I begin each day with a series of small motions that tell my brain it's time to wake up and go out into the world, not reset the alarm for another 20 minutes. I turn on my bedside lamp, throw off the covers, collect my empty water glass from the night before, turn off the alarm, unplug my cell phone from its charger, and march myself into the living room. Shower, clothes, makeup, shoes and exit. With any luck, I've left enough time to get coffee somewhere on the way to work. Pretty efficient.
So is it enough to have a system that works? I mean, is a morning routine really the best thing? I always hear the women in my life talk about better organization, better planning, laying things out the night before, making lists, thinking through things ahead of time, calculating, preparing. Things need to go smoothly. We hate being caught unaware, surprised by an unforeseen circumstance that we weren't ready for. "If I'd only known, I would have been able to plan better." There's a sense of urgency, to coordinate, gather resources, be responsible. It's all over the place. So where is it all going? What part of that is healthy?
And why do I hate surprises?
We are all just control freaks. It starts with the pony we wished for an never got. We learn that hoping doesn't help us, and actually makes it hurt worse when we are denied...So why even dream? Figure we could save ourselves some trouble and just go on living. In fact, we talk like we expect the opposite of happy surprises to happen in our lives - "Gee, with MY luck..." Pretty dismal. Sad, really.
When in fact, we're built to be the stubborn sapling that refuses to die the first time it feels winter and is stripped of all it's warmth and leaves. No, it thinks, surely there will be an end to this unhappy season. And come spring, it grows just a bit. It's a little deeper and wider. And if it holds on through its next winter, things just get better - more branches, more leaves - more receptors to enjoy the summer sun. Bad analogy? Maybe...
But I think it works, somehow. We are built to hope. Hope for Heaven, hope for a Redeemer to come and make sense out of all these longings and shortcomings...it's written all over us. We need it. And without any hope at all - without a vision - we'll shrivel up and die (metaphorically, I think - death on the inside?). So even though having hoped and been disappointed seriously sucks (believe me, I know), at least you know you're alive, and staying that way. It hurts, makes you feel like you just got stripped bare (see dorky analogy in previous paragraph), at least you are still there thinking, "I'm naked!" But you're also thinking, "I remember having leaves before...yes, there were leaves. I wonder, should I expect some of those to come in the future?" We always have that choice, I think, whether or not to hope.
Ok. (I really do have a thought here somewhere.)
I do hate surprises. But I think it's sad. I think we're meant to expect God to be the delighted Father he is, and lavish us with good stuff. Even some of the stuff we keep telling him we'd like. We should stop bracing ourselves for more disappointment, more pain. Stop expecting to be let down, and trust God to make the road safe for us - be it valleys or mountainsides. Some of each makes it a nice mix, I suppose. But we'll never get blown away with the joy of getting what we hoped for, if we never hope to begin with. I want that joy. I've had it a little, in life, but not enough. And it's my own dang fault. I don't hope, and I miss out on so much of that exciting time before the present comes (I hope it's a bike!!) because I don't want to "get my hopes up." What a horrible phrase.
Ladies and gentlemen, I'm getting my hopes up.
So maybe my little daily routine is just another way of controlling for my circumstances - making sure there are as few surprises and possible. But how boring is that? I'm not made for that, and I know it.
Maybe tomorrow I'll mix it up.
I'll probably still take a shower though.
2 comments:
Hmm.
Now see, I don't consider my planning a way to control for surprises. For me, it's what I do to make sure the things that I consider priorities in my life actually get done.
Just because something is very important to me doesn't mean I will not go into an inappropriate state of hyper-focus on something that I could care less about.
I also plan to make sure I don't get paralyzed by the fact that I am at home all day long with barely any human interaction.
My planning is a natural outgrowth of what I like to do.
I like to eat breakfast with my husband in the morning, so we have time together, so I have to get up with him which means I need to go to bed earlier which means I need to start winding down at a certain time because I have a really hard time falling to sleep. I like to make sure dinner's ready when he gets home, and I don't have a kitchen, so I need to cook before my MiL gets home.
Also, I think that by having routines and planning it makes me more able to respond to unexpected things that happen during the day whether good or bad. If my house is clean, it doesn't matter when Ron says a couple of guys or coming over to record in the studio that evening and it balloons into three times that number (including several people I have never met before in my life).
*shrug* This may be slightly incoherent. It's my take on the whole planning thing.
Personalities, too, I think. I have always had the feeling that I'm not as "together" as I ought to be, or that I'm letting people down by not being as organizied with myself or my thoughts. This all goes away when I am with God and he reminds me of the quirky way he made me - and that he gets a kick out of it. I like the way it feels to have a plan, but I like the fact that I keep a sleeping bag in my trunk during the summer, just in case.
I have always expected God to give me a husband who would delight in staying a little flexible with me. I don't know how it will look, but I really get happy thinking that he'll want to take me camping on the weekends and vacation somewhere we can hike and breathe and delight in Creation.
That itch to not be buckled down used to make me feel immature - but now it defines me. I know it's in me for a reason, and it has nothing to do with the fact that I intend to be a wife and mother and have a house and a dog and a job and a car and friends and a relational root system. It's not a means of escape - it's a healthy unrest that keeps me thinking about where I'm happiest - when I'm out physically experiencing how big and wide and intense my God is - ALL that he has made, for us to know him. It's amazing.
It always blows my mind to think back to what I learned in 10th grade Botany about the structure of a flower, and it's petals. All flowering plants follow the same pattern when it comes to the number of petals, and their layering. The numbers of the inner ring, all the way through to the outer follow a number sequence (it's slipping my mind, the name of it) but it's there. All the time. Intricate order in what is widely accepted as a symbol of free-spirited spontaneity.
It seems to me that there can be a perfect balance. The flower wears it's order under it's beauty without any fuss at all - it's just out there enjoying the sun. (Is the metaphor too sappy??)
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