Some people are lucky enough to live their lives according to plan.
Some people marry their high school sweethearts, go on missions, finish graduate school, build hotshot careers, move from place to place as they choose. Some people have exactly the number of children they want, in exactly the amount of time and exactly the manner they expect.
I imagine it would be nice to be someone like that. Wouldn't it?
See, that's not how my life works at all.
I like to make plans, really. I've tried for years to map out my weeks, my months, my semesters. But the last few years and, especially, months of my life have shown me that sometimes it doesn't matter what you plan. You can make decisions, actively pursue a certain course, do everything possible to stay on it ... and in the end the Lord has a different plan for you. For me.
Lately, I've been thinking (surprise) about what it means to be a parent. What it means to announce to the world that you are expecting a baby, when you know too well that a hundred things could go wrong in the subsequent months and you would have to explain. What it means to bring a baby home and welcome it into your life, knowing how little you have to teach it and just how much you have to learn. What it means to accept unexpected turns in your life, without turning away from that God who sent you down this path.
Planned or no, it takes great faith, being a parent. I think it takes more faith than anything else in the world.