I wake up with such high hopes for the day. Some nights I fall asleep contemplating/praying about the next day and what I want to accomplish. Before I get out of bed, I mentally outline the day and start to pray about each aspect of the day. Basically, I beg God for mercy and grace to strengthen my hands and my mind to work hard.

I thought things were going pretty well Thursday. And then, the two year old kept interrupting. She just kept finding reasons to come to the school table and ask for something whine. By about 10:30 that morning my whine-meter had peaked. She asked for some juice and I obliged. The older kiddos and I got back to work, when not three minutes later, Abbey spilled the juice. Needless to say, my plans for the day did NOT include a big spill. You can add to that list of things-I-don’t-plan: sibling squabbles, running out of milk when my daughter would like some pudding, the van not cranking when we’re running late, the dryer shutting off mid-cycle, falling and breaking an arm.

Honestly, the worst interruption on Thursday was the news that Granddaddy didn’t make it through his surgery. He went in to fix a serious problem. The surgeon never expected him not to make it. Sure, there was the chance that he wouldn’t, but no one thought there would be major complications that would cause his death. We make our plans, weigh our options, say we’ll see you tomorrow, but the only plans that stand are the plans and purposes of the Lord.

The events of the last couple of days have reminded me of a Sara Groves song, What Do I Know. (Bold type parallels our lives right now)

I have a friend who just turned eighty-eight and she just shared with me that she’s afraid of dying.
I sit here years from her experience and try to bring her comfort. I try to bring her comfort.
But what do I know? What do I know?

She grew up singing about the glory land, and she would testify how Jesus changed her life.
It was easy to have faith when she was thirty-four, but now her friends are dying, and death is at her door.
And what do I know? Really, what do I know?

I don’t know that there are harps in heaven, or the process for earning your wings.
I don’t know of bright lights at the ends of tunnels, or an of these things.

She lost her husband after sixty years, and as he slipped away she still had things to say.
Death can be so inconvenient.
You try to live and love.
It comes and interrupts.
And what do I know? What do I know?

I don’t know that there are harps in heaven, or the process for earning your wings.
I don’t know of bright lights at the end of tunnels, or any of these things.
But I know to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord,

Death is swallowed up in victory.

O death, where is your victory?

O death, where is your sting?

But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord
Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:54-56