Gravity.

The other day, I told a friend of mine that I felt like Sandra Bullock off of Interstellar when she is barreling out of control in space and can't stop spinning. I was expecting him to show me some sympathy in my time of self-proclaimed insanity. Instead, he said, "Don't you mean the movie Gravity?" 

Yes. I did. But seeing as though my brain has been a mess as of late, I got my space movies confused. 

It's one of my talents.

Another one of my talents is that fact that I can make a mountain out of a mole hill in record time. 

Thinking about the future is a great way to send my brain into a full on roller coaster ride. I start with one simple thought, and before I know it, I'm deep into an elaborate web of questions and concerns and doubts about everything in space and time.

Am I listening closely enough? Are there supposed to be neon signs with flashing arrows pointing me in one specific direction, or are they subtle signs, that I have to uncover like a secret agent, and I'm too unobservant to catch them because I'm so wrapped up in trying to be a secret agent? What if I'm actually supposed to walk through door B, but can't seem to pull my hand off the doorknob of door A? Have I actually missed the bus to my best future because I was binge watching Gilmore Girls? What if I don't deserve the best future because, frankly, I bite my fingernails, and I really have no concern over world politics, and hate washing my hair? If I cared a little more about global warming and personal hygiene than I cared about Sonic Happy Hour and having a nice sun tan, would I be better prepared for the future ahead?

See?

Spiraling. Out. Of. Control.

But that's the thing... 

Control. I had control over my life for a while-- a false and fleeting sense of control-- yet I had control over the plan for my life. I believed in the plan. I believed there was a plan and I was on the plan and I was headed towards a lifetime of happiness and greatness and babies and warm cookies and job security and hard wood floors. But then the plan, my plan, was taken away. I'm off the plan. And I loved that plan. 

I tell people that God is in control. His timing is perfect. His ways are higher than my own. I trust in Him wholeheartedly to make my paths straight... so I feel more in control. Internally, I'm trusting myself to make decisions and know what's best for my life on my time. I don't want to lean not on my own understanding. I really don't want to have to lean at all. I want guarantees and immediate answers. I want to see what's up ahead so I can know if I need to brace for impact or if I should change lanes before I get there. I don't want surprises. I just want certainty and a life that follows a pre-determined outline. 

What I've come to realize is that I believed in the plan that I constructed for myself more than I believed in the fact that God could provide for me without my assistance. He doesn't need my suggestions or my reminding or a laminated copy of the itinerary I wrote once upon a time. That "God's timing is perfect" mindset is really great, until His timing feels so not perfect that you basically want to scream and curse and pull all of your hair out. 

So here I am.

Desperately and boldly acknowledging that I am not the captain of my ship. I'm not the head honcho. I'm not mission-control. I'm not actually in control of anything. If I rely on my own strength and guidance, I will forever be Sandra Bullock, spinning aimlessly in space. While being in space might be kinda cool, it won't be cool for forever. It will get exhausting and, not to mention, I think I'd get dizzy pretty quick. 

So, I have no conclusion for this blog. 

Because, well, I have no conclusion for my life plan. 

All I know is that there is a plan.

And it will be good, eventually. 

Even if it does not seem good right now.

I know that pretty much nothing is certain in life.

And I can't plan/prepare for anything.

All I know is that some days you have days when you feel like Sandra Bullock in Gravity.

But... Some days, you feel like the Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality, and it makes those "spinning out of control" days all worth while. 

(Also, shout out to Weatherford born and raised General Thomas P. Stafford for taking that sweet pic of the earth while in space.)