I clearly remember our last Christmas with Neil. We spent it in the hospital without tree or decorations. Our daughters were there, and we feasted on pizza from a gas station while we snuggled on a bumpy hospital bed enjoying TV Christmas movies. We all knew what was coming, but we put aside the future in favor of the present. It was one of my favorite Christmases. We eat Christmas pizza in Neil’s honor ever since.
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My daughter, Jordan, recently ran her first half marathon. As with her sister before her, I planned to cheer from various vantage points along the course.
“See you at five miles, ten and the finish line!” I called, dropping her off as close to the starting point as I could. The early morning air was chilly and brisk, full of excitement as other runners were dropped off and other families wished them good luck.
Only after she got out of the car did I realize two important problems. The first was that many streets were closed that morning to accommodate the runners. The second was that I do not know Richmond at all. My GPS did not acknowledge the closed roads, and the detour signs were inconsistent. I gave up the plan to cheer at the 5th and 10th mile markers and decided instead to head out of the downtown area to a park the course passed through. I figured at least there would be parking at a park and said a quick prayer for God to help me find my way.
Unfortunately, all the roads that accessed the park were closed, and there was no easy go-around. I drove around aimlessly for a while, in and out of charming neighborhoods, where people were still asleep or at least warm inside enjoying their coffee. I pulled in front of a little bungalow, just as a couple and their dog came out. I rolled down the window and asked if they knew where the marathon route was.
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Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about trust. Such a simple word to say; such a difficult thing to do.
I realize I don’t quite trust anyone but myself. I spend a lot of mental energy devising back up plans: an alternate dinner in case my daughter forgets its her turn to cook; a dog sitter list in case my regular one cancels at the last minute; a different route to work in case there is flooding or road work. If I’m honest, I don’t even trust God; I ask for His help but always have a plan of my own in case He doesn’t come through. I waste so much time preparing for events that never even happen. What an exhausting way to live!
Maybe it grew out of the knowledge that no one is perfect and that even those we love can let us down. More likely it grew out of my ongoing need for control -another simple word, but one that can wreak havoc on my life. I bet you can relate.
Control is illusive. Every time I think I’ve come up with a contingency plan for the problems in my life, something unexpected pops up. Every time I think I have my schedule – or my house, or my patients, or my diet or my exercise, etc. – under control, something unexpected derails me.
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Every now and then, its good to sit back and take stock. It’s the sort of thing people do on their birthdays, or New Year’s Eve.
Neil and I did it every summer on our annual visit to the Outer Banks as we sat out on the balcony after the girls went to bed. From our high perch we could hear the ocean and see the stretch of houses that lined the streets of Whalehead Beach. We often sipped on a glass of wine or feasted on a cup of coffee and extravagant dessert, but despite the changing accompaniment, the conversation was consistent.
Life is peaceful and relaxed at the beach; what can we bring home to make life peaceful and relaxed there, too?
This is how we decided to make our house more open by tearing down the wall between the kitchen and dining room. This is how we came up for a landscape design for a simple swimming pool. This is how I decided I couldn’t work in the ER for my whole life.
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It is 92 degrees on this second to last day of September. Thunder rolls in the distance, while heat lightening dances overhead. The air is so humid that the dog and I are sweating and panting after the first few steps of our walk.
“Where are the cool, crisp days of autumn?” I lament.
Then I recall how just a few days ago at work I shivered in my white coat despite three layers underneath, and secretly prayed the office air conditioner would break. That day I longed to feel warm.
And in just a few months, when I go out for a walk in the snow, today’s weather will come to mind. I’ll wish for my sweaty T-shirt and shorts instead of my heavy boots and stuffy parka.
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