Many are the plans in a (wo)man's heart...

...but it's the Lord purpose that prevails.~Proverbs 19:21

I had big plans for the night. Big plans that were well thought out and carefully crafted. I'm a planner. It's what I do. This whole fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants or 'wing it' philosophy is not for me. So when I decided I was moving two months ago, I began a list of what needed to be done in the upcoming eight weeks to ensure a smooth (or at least as smooth as possible when a move is concerned) transition where everything flowed smoothly and there were no wrinkles. The week before list was even more carefully crafted and quite a bit more detailed. Each day had specific tasks, which ensured that everything was done and ready for moving day, but divided up the awfulness that is packing so that it didn't become so overwhelming. Tonight was the last night of packing (gone all day tomorrow, go out to camp on Thursday and don't back til Monday morning, move as soon as I get into town on Monday), and the kitchen is the one room left.
Things to get done tonight inlcuded: Pack kitchen, bring recycling to center, go running and eat supper. I purposely ate a light supper so that I could go running right away and not feel icky. I stopped at the recycling center on my way to the Y, and got to the Y at about 7, which would get me home at 8, which would be just enough time to pack the kitchen and get a good night's rest. And everything went according to plan right up until I walked in the door at the Y.
Three summers ago I met a girl from Fergus when she came to camp. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something very special to me about her. Over the years, I've seen her around town, and she knows that I work at camp, which automatically makes me cool in her eyes, and I always talk to her for a little bit when I see her. I've thought of and prayed for this girl almost every day for three years, and I don't think she even knows my name, and I don't care. She was at the Y one day last week when I was there and we chatted for a little bit. Tonight when I walked in the door, she came running toward me and yelled "I was hoping you'd come tonight!", and gave me a big hug. Then she informed me that she knew why I was there, to go running (she said it with a little bit of sass), and I told her she was right, but I'd like it if she walked around the track with me. We walked for quite and while and she just couldn't stop talking. There is so much going on in that little 11-year old head (and heart). After a while she got tired, so we sat in a corner and she talked some more while I stretched (I hadn't given up on my running plan yet), and then she asked if I'd play basketball with her. So we went downstairs and played a couple games of HORSE, then some one-on-one, then we played soccer and she showed me skills. Then two other boys wanted to join our little soccer clinic, so they came over and played with us. Then one of the boys wanted to show us his new game, which was some variation of handball, and we played that for a while.
Gabby's ride came to pick her up a little before 9, so I left too - without running. Now I'm at home reliving this story - kitchen completely unpacked. And I don't care. Not even a little bit. I don't know if I'll stay up late tonight to get it done or wait and do it Monday morning and postpone the moving til that part is done. I don't have a plan yet. But tonight was a beautiful reminder that even my best laid plans pale in comparison to God's plan, and I'm so thankful that tonight, God's plan for me was so much more than a run and packing some boxes.