When Plans Change

The plans were set.

Each of our family members were off on adventures of sorts. One camping, one to the grandparents', and the other three of us to our national youth conference in Ohio. We were all excited. The itineraries were finalized. The plans were communicated. The laundry was done and suitcases partially packed.

And then a routine play at the plate resulted in a broken leg for our son, Ryan. As I drove him to the ER last Wednesday night, I knew in my heart his leg was broken. And as we sat in the ER that night and I heard the word "surgery," I hurt for my son. Here it was the beginning of summer, and his baseball season was over. There would be no more long, hazy days of biking or swimming or hiking. What disappointment for a teenage boy.

I also knew what had to be done. There was no other choice. I wouldn't be going to Ohio. And he wouldn't be going to his grandparents'. And somehow, it was good.

Now I'd be lying to tell you that there was no sense of sadness at this revelation. Of course I love and adore my son. Of course I'd give the world for him and there was no other choice but to stay at his side. But there was a definite ache and disappointment as the realization hit that I was no longer going to the conference I'd anticipated for years. For the past number of years, I knew it wasn't my time to go. I had little guys at home. My ministry was with them, and while there was no shortage of capable, loving grandparents to care for them, I never got that sense of release that I should leave them for a week and go to this conference. But this year was different. With two teenagers and an 11-year-old (the oldest whom was going along), I was quite certain it was finally my turn. Add to that the fact that this particular conference was being held in the city where my husband and I had lived for 5 1/2 years in our early mariage, and I was beyond excited. We'd get to catch up with a bunch of our former "kids" and meet their families. And on top of this was the conference itself. What an awesome opportunity to worship with our own kids and 5,000 students from across the country; to hear the teaching of God's Word and be further equipped for sharing the gospel. I was looking forward to it. All of it.

So here we are 5 days after "the incident." All of my other guys are at their previously scheduled events. And Ryan and I are here. I've observed his quiet strength, his determination, his courage. I've learned that he is so very easy to please. He's non-demanding and gracious. He's grateful. Now with potentially 8 weeks in his cast, I know it's still very early. But he has the sweetest, most engaging disposition. He doesn't complain. Yesterday morning as he and I were leaving for church and I tried to juggle quite a few things at one time, he said to me, "Mom, you're a trooper." That's Ryan. Downplaying his own needs and still offering encouragement.

He and I have shared unexpected one-on-one time. I've enjoyed his antics, his humor, his observations about life. I've loved the sound of his laughter. I've seen the appreciation in his eyes when his buddies stopped by for a surprise visit and hung out with him for an afternoon. He's been reminded of the love that people have for him. And I'm grateful.

This has been my opportunity to pour into his heart...to connect with him...to serve him. And somehow, this boy is pouring into my heart, too. I can honestly say I'm grateful God changed my plans. This isn't Plan B. It's been God's Plan A all along---a retreat of sorts for my boy and me. Oh, I thought God wanted me to go to some big conference and minister to a bunch of wonderful high school girls. I had it all planned, all figured out. But God had other ideas and opportunites for ministry...right here within my own 4 walls.

And I'm so very glad He did.