I mean…..maybe not but….doesn’t life feel like the biggest lion you’ve ever seen right up in your face some days? Everything’s going along fine and then out of nowhere your well laid plans get blown up and the sound feels deafening, the plan is dead in the water and there is no solution that feels achievable; or, at best, acceptable….to your way of thinking.

Over 15 years ago now, I needed a place to live. My marriage was done, my days of being a staying at home mother limited my income choices and thus the outlook for a sunny forecast seemed remote. Our mediator made sure the provision for my contribution as a wife was somewhat fairly divided up and I found a place to rent that was way lovelier than I expected to find. Although on a busy street, it had an old charm to it, a gas fireplace, lots of windows and plenty of space for my kids. I was grateful, except when the ambulance sirens ripped by and we had to stop talking until they had passed because we couldn’t hear each other. I went from a low paying job at Panera Bread to a “chance” walk-in to a private airport where they hired me on the spot. I would be making enough to support myself for the first time in my life.

8 months in, my father unexpectedly inherited an historic house from a friendship he had begun with an elderly man who didn’t know how much he needed a friend. He passed away, leaving his beautiful home to my father as a thank you without ever having told him beforehand. My father was stunned and I was more stunned when he came to me and handed me the keys. “I want you to live there,” he said. And so we packed our belongings in Kroger paper grocery bags, 5 at a time ,and shoved what we could of the furniture into the trunk and made the 15 minute trip back and forth across town for two weeks. Friends helped with the couch and the beds and we spent the first night on the porch swing marveling that this would be our home. We found a picture in the local museum of our house and the American author, Mark Twain, sitting under our big tree. My son and I, both writers at heart ,were thrilled to follow in his footsteps.

Years went along, life happened, some good, some not at all good. I began helping an elderly couple with things their bodies wouldn’t allow them to anymore; grocery shopping (before delivery was a thing), laundry, organizing the pantry, etc.) and realized, not only how much I enjoyed it but that it was lucrative. After several more people got wind of what I was doing and asked for my help, I left my airport job and began my own business. It was a bit of a risky leap but worth what it felt like to feel the wind beneath my proverbial wings.

I’d already told God that I felt like the home we were in would be a “temporary” thing and to please give me a nudge when it was time to leave. 12 years went by and I began to “hear”…now is the time. Okay, God but….How? When? Where will I go next? One day soon after I began to sense the winds of change, my daughter was tying her shoes, looked up at me and said “I think we should sell our house.” I was surprised but then, why should I be? This is what I’d asked God for 12 years ago. So, my friends’ brother, who is a realtor came alongside. “I want to help you.” I made the house ready and he pounded the “for sale” sign in the yard and two days later COVID shut the world down.

GREAT, God. Great timing. I’ll just settle in here for the long haul. One week later we got an offer for exactly what we expected to get. God is good, indeed, I said! And then the next day they got cold feet and withdrew the offer to a much lower number because COVID and all it wreaked was scaring people. I had just been reading through the Old Testament, all those battles and numbers and journeys through deserts. I noticed a thing. God doesn’t always make sense. Why does a kid fight a giant and win? Why does the smaller army slaughter the bigger one? My realtor called me to discuss the offer. I know it’s disappointing, he said, but I still think you should consider it. It’s completely up to you. And then I heard myself say, with no hesitation…”God always uses the smaller number.” Within 30 days I handed over the keys and picked up the check. Oh, and where did I go? To an apartment my realtor owned and let us stay in rent-free while he rehabbed the building. God, is indeed, still good.

I’ve moved since then to a place with the bigger kitchen I wanted and all the windows I could ask for. I love where I live. I’ve continued to wrestle lions some days, and felt like I’ve lost. Other days I am astonished at the plans I would have never dreamed of making, landing on my doorstep. I’ve learned something else, too.

I have a friend. Almost 3 years ago, she was 2 years into the happiest marriage she could have dreamed of after a devastating first one. She was beautiful, vibrant, 43 years old and the mother of 5 children. She wasn’t feeling “great” one day and went to the doctor. Let’s do a couple of tests, he suggested. The evening of their 2nd anniversary they were driving to dinner and her cell phone rang. They pulled over to hear the news. Cancer. 7 weeks to live. That hadn’t been the plan. Not at all. Treatment for more time became treatment for comfort and they realized she really wasn’t going to make it. In the 7 weeks she had, she communicated everything she wanted her children to remember, changed the lives of many hospital workers and woke up from sleeping, apologizing that the agony was “taking so long.” Am I dying well? That was her question between waking and sleeping.

Plans are made. Some happen beyond our wildest dreams. Some disappoint our expectations of a “fair” life. But my friend, whose plans took a heart stopping turn? Her constant mantra before and after diagnosis was “run to the hard.” Run, don’t walk, towards the hard with an open hand. If the lion faces you, stare him down, even if you die staring. This is your one life, my one life. The risk of living is a risk worth dying for.

And no matter the odds, God always works with the smallest number. <3