I never thought I’d be widowed, well at least not so soon. Seriously, I thought my husband would be healed of his cancer. My belief was based on Exodus 20:12: “Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.” If my husband did anything right, he honored his mother. [Personally I think he honored his mother a bit too much, but that’s another story (and another confession) for another day.] Therefore, I thought he was a shoo-in for healing. I had it all figured out.
I was wrong. Not the first time either.
I always have to figure things out. That’s my problem, well, at least one of them. I have this urge to guess what God will do next, what anyone will do next, what will happen next, what will be said next. I predict imaginary conversations all the time. Well if he says this, then I’ll say that, and if she talks that way to me I’ll just say this to her, and if I say that to him maybe he’ll say this to me. It’s tiring, all those made-up conversations. And it never happens the way I think it will. Never.
And now that my psyche has been armed with the knowledge that things never happen the way I think they will, it really gripes me when an idea of how something might happen pops into my head, because then I know that, even if it’s a really good idea that I would use if I were God, it won’t happen. My ego thinks that somehow I’ve managed to eliminate one of the ways God would have used, like he’s saying, “Aw, Clarice, see what have you gone and done? Now I can’t use that idea because you thought of it.”
Pretty stupid, huh? Hey, I’m just telling you the truth– well, not the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth based on God’s Word, but the truth based on my limited thought life. Why can’t I just let life happen and live in the present? Could it possibly be that easy? Apparently I don’t think so.
So even after years of being widowed, I continued to live in a small town called Projection with its rocky winding roads and steep hills that just circled back to a very shallow mucky dating pool. And, Lord help me, I kept trying to figure things out on my own.