There have been some notable achievements in our house recently. This morning, I hung the washing out all by myself. At lunchtime, I unpacked the dishwasher and put things away. After seven weeks, I no longer have a pot on my ankle. Hurrah! I can wear normal shoes (in pairs!), paint my toenails, play football for my local team…okay, I made that last one up. However, I did come away from the fracture clinic with an expectation that I would soon be able to resume my normal activities and routines.
Unfortunately, things didn’t work out quite as I’d envisaged. I’ve now developed tendonitis in my left foot as a result of over-compensating for my right these last few weeks, which has turned out to be far more painful than the original injury. I’m still hobbling around on crutches, but now the limp is on the other side. I find myself getting confused over which foot I’m supposed to be protecting, and yesterday I had to explain to a puzzled physiotherapist why the “wrong” one was bandaged up.
Thankfully, the discomfort is beginning to ease, but it’s made me think about how I respond when things don’t go according to plan. By preference, I’m a creature of habit. I like to know what’s ahead, to feel that I’m in control of my life. I work really well when I’ve got a deadline to meet, whereas open-ended tasks can leave me floundering.
God reminds us in Isaiah that his ways and thoughts are very different from ours (Isaiah 55: 8, 9). This sounds obvious, but I so easily forget that God’s perspective on life may not be the same as mine. He knows the way ahead, even when the path is unclear or appears to veer off at a tangent. When circumstances combine to frustrate my plans, I can take comfort from the knowledge that God sees everything, and that his purposes are greater than my own.