I learned this lesson years ago.
As a matter of fact, I had a cute little picture on my fridge of a sinking ship that said. “Another day, another disaster”.
That was before I had actually lived through disaster.
Now it’s engraved on my heart as well as my mind.
I think I’m in control. I think my “to do” list determines a day. I think I can set the alarm and set my agenda.
But I’m not. It doesn’t and I can’t.
Last week I was rocking and rolling, moving and grooving. Making molehills out of mountains and working my list.
Today I’m sitting in my chair, heating pad on my back, barely able to move.
My body hates me.
This is the hardest part of chronic illness and lifelong grief-I want to be able to plan ahead, make progress, achieve momentum and finish tasks. But I just can’t. I can’t be sure when I go to bed that the next day is going to be anything like what I hope it will be.
If you think weather forecasts are unpredictable, they are solid compared to my life.
And while I absolutely, positively accede God is in control, is sovereign, does not answer to me or anyone else and can order my life and the world as He sees fit; I would love, love, love to have two days in a row that followed a pattern of positive progress.
So I’m just a *little* bit frustrated.
I know I need to adjust my expectations.