Plans?

I've still been struggling with my lack of retirement plans. It seems I should have some, but beyond helping Joe and Rita get into their house, I don't. (And they SHOULD be in there sometime in the next few months.) Without plans, I feel adrift, directionless. I always told my kids they needed to have plans, because that way they'd know what they were deviating from - and here I am, not following my own advice.

Since I retired last October, I've tried several times to scope out a tentative path, but each time, life just didn't work out that way. (No thanks to COVID-19, which seems to delight in upending not only my plans, but those of most people on the planet.) 

Then, earlier this week, I stumbled across an editorial in the New York Times. The article isn't typical of them. I usually read the paper for its political and national news; to find a feel-good story about bread and roads and traveling and plans or the lack thereof was a surprise twist in my daily reading.

The author, Emily Scott, is a Lutheran minister; her story in the paper talked about leaving a long-term assignment and taking six months on the road in a camper van to recenter herself. (Sound familiar?) She experienced the same disconnection from time and place I did back in the long ago when I was able to take my similar journey. She speaks of Jesus gathering people, yes, but also scattering them in ones and twos to carry on his ministry. She speaks of her longing to share bread; to share a meal with a large group around a crowded table, bumping elbows and passing the food.

I read the article several times, convinced it was written just for me, placed in the paper because my soul needed to hear her message.

She ends her piece by saying:

In Erie, Pennsylvania, I rolled into a campsite and backed my van up to the edge of the great lake, surrounded by Harley-Davidsons. I shared a beer with a biker who had one thing to tell me about my trip: Don’t plan a thing.

“Because all my plans will fall apart?” I asked.

“Not only that,” he answered, “but because when you don’t plan, things will happen you wouldn’t believe.” He winked, his bristle of mustache rising mischievously as he smiled.

During this pandemic, I can’t depend on communion each Sunday as I used to. But there will still be bread. Here, on the road, between the old life and a new one, we have the opportunity to be remade. Who will we choose to become?

The pandemic has changed our lives. Like when I took off in the camper van, when it subsides we will not be where we started, nor will we be able to go back there even if we want to. This is a scary time, yes. But that doesn't mean there isn't wonder to be found ahead on the road.

I needed the reminder. Thank you Rev. Scott

Link to original article:  https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/19/opinion/start-looking-and-youll-see-roads-all-over-the-bible.html