Failure to Plan

Yesterday, while closing up at work, a kamikaze dove flew into the glass door about a foot from my face.  I first screamed, then cried as I watched it slowly die on the ground next to me.  I walked away after a minute feeling extremely shaken.

This morning I was reading about different omens on the Internet.  What does it mean when a dove (the symbol of love and peace) murders itself right in front of you?!  Putting my mind at ease, a coworker decided that maybe there was some reason I needed to stay at work a minute longer that day.  Some purpose for that glitch in my plan that I may never know...

I share this disturbing little anecdote because it illustrates things that have been on my mind on a larger scale lately.  If there's anything I've learned about plans, it's that they change... and that most often it's disappointing. Even heartbreaking.

I've thought a lot lately of those moments... those changes-of-plan... the rifts in the continuum of my life that have brought me to this point.  Things like:

A trip to the mailbox revealing the 'small envelope' from the university I planned to attend.

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The last text message to the person I had intended to marry.

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The heartbreaking phone call from a sister that somehow let me know that everything had changed.

That's about the time I stopped making plans. Big plans anyway.  The funny thing is that when I think about the last four (unplanned) years, they seem like the most fulfilling and character-building years of my life.  I wouldn't trade them for the world.

Maybe sometimes the disappointments have a purpose. My new plan? Not to have a plan. 

I'm clearly not the one in charge.

Brave

Confession: Patriotic songs make me cry. (Please keep this quiet as it is privileged information.) July 4th has long been my favorite holiday. Last Sunday while singing the song "America the Beautiful" (and fighting back an embarrassing onslaught of tears) I began to think about the different expressions of bravery that went into the founding of this country.

 This led me to recognize the different types of bravery I've witnessed in my life firsthand.
- A dad working day after day doing something he doesn't love to provide for the people he does.
- A brother learning to walk again after an accident which left his legs shattered, then returning to finish the mission he'd begun.
-A sister widowed in her early thirties doing her best to raise three little boys.
-An aunt cheerfully fighting cancer...again. And so many others.

Bravery is around me every day, and in this day when we pause to celebrate the spacious skies, pilgrim feet, patriot dreams and heroes proved... I wonder... What kind of brave am I?