When I have a plan, I'm like a dog with a bone. And if you take that bone away from the dog... the dog will growl... and maybe even bite (not too hard).
It's one of my many, many flaws.
I make the plan. I stick to the plan. You want to change the plan? Um... nope. The plan is the plan. So it can't be changed. Sometimes the plan is only in my head and was never voiced out loud. I get that. But the plan should not be changed.
Ugh! I can't tell you how my insides feel when the plan is changed. It doesn't feel good. It feels gross. I want to throw myself down on the ground and throw a big old wobbly (fancy English word for tantrum - it sounds better when I say wobbly, though, doesn't it?). But I can't do that. Cause I'm a grown up woman (or so they say) and grown up women are supposed to be mature. So what I do is one of two things: 1) the silent treatment or 2) get very very snippy. Sometimes the silent treatment turns into snippy.
It's a problem. It's one I've given to God many times but one I seem to like to pick back up and carry around. It's annoying... for both of us. God and me. Plans change, always. I pray I can see plans as something fluid instead of something so concrete. It would make life easier for me and my family. It's just part of my ever constant struggle with control.
So there it is. Adjusting my sails, daily... sometimes by the moment. Letting go of my ideas and opening myself up to others'.
It's a good thing.
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