(Cover of my soon-to-be released new book.)

One of my joys in life is helping in children’s church. I love finding an object lesson to tie in with each story. This time, I had found the perfect fit. The lesson was on gifts of the Spirit. Confidently, I held up a lemon in one hand and an apple in the other hand and asked the children which one they would rather eat. To my chagrin, ALL of them replied, “the lemon.”

Sometimes our plans fail.

My plan for the day was simple and fail-proof. I would write all morning.

The editor had promised to have my newly finished book back to me so I could make the final corrections. She didn’t.

I had my husband dressed and ready for the ambulance to pick him up for his trip to the cancer doctor across the water. At the last minute, he decided to change clothes. The phone rang and it was the vet’s office wanting our collie Savannah back for injections to treat her severe pancreatitis. The phone rang again. It was a gas engineer needing to check the boiler in our rental house. We weren’t expecting him, but he had already come across the water and needed to get into our house.

I helped my husband out to the ambulance in his wheelchair, took the wheelchair back to the house, and put Savannah into the car for her trip to the vet. I hadn’t had time to walk her yet, so I took her for a brief walk before I took her into the vet’s. She had diarrhea. Before the vet could take her temperature, she had to clean Savannah’s bottom.

I got back home to find a delivery from Amazon on the porch and the gas man waiting across the street in his van. The delivery contained a broken jar of dill pickles and pickle juice pooled at the front door. The gas engineer followed me inside, but the boiler is in the attic and I couldn’t find the thingy that opens the trap door to the attic steps.

The vet had asked me to take a photo of the label on Savannah’s food and email it to her so we could make sure the food wasn’t part of the problem. The memory card on the camera was locked. I couldn’t figure out how to unlock it. So I took Savannah’s food out of the freezer and copied the ingredients into an email to send the vet’s office. By this time, the engineer had found the thingy to unlock the steps and had inspected the boiler, but he couldn’t find the outlet for it. While searching, he slipped on the waterlogged back deck and almost fell. His foot went through a weak place in the wood. Fortunately, he was able to extract his foot without damage to either himself or the porch.

I hit the “send” key on my computer for the email to the vet, and went to help the gas engineer search for the outlet from the boiler. Neither of us could find it. The engineer needed to use the toilet before he left, and I realized much to my chagrin that I had never finished cleaning it yet—a job I had started at 6:30 a.m. when I got up. Because Alan can’t walk and has to use a bedside commode and I have to empty it into the toilet—the toilet needs to be cleaned rather often.

I heaved a sigh of relief when the gas engineer left and I could return to my plan. Spending the morning writing.

I glanced at the clock beside my desk. It was noon.

“A person’s heart plans their way, but the LORD directs the steps.” Sometimes He directs us into patience-building excursions.

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