I Changed My Mind.

“Remember:  You can always change your mind.”

Upon learning of last-minute obstacles suddenly present in a seemingly well-thought-out plan, I recently shared that advice with one of my kids.

I can recall many times when I could have used that reminder.  When so focused on plans and expectations, I accepted feeling stuck.  Thinking, “I can’t change my mind now.”  With age (and hopefully some wisdom) I’ve come to feel that way far less often.  In fact, these days when things pop up to interfere with my plans, I realize it might be God’s gentle way of redirecting me toward His plans for me. 

If I offer my adult kids advice, I suppose I’d better be prepared to lead by example. 

Case in point:

Mere days after my monologue about how we can, even at the last minute, always change our minds - life handed me the chance to prove I believe it. 

With the earliest days of February rolling by and inching us ever closer to spring, my husband and I decided that if we hoped to fit in a winter getaway, we’d better do it soon.  We wanted to pay a long-overdue (thanks a lot, 2020 and 2021!) visit to his parents in Florida.  We can both work from mostly anywhere, and for now, grown-up kids and life’s circumstances offer us some freedom. So, for the first time ever, we could plan that trip with no real time constraints.  We discussed the possibilities:  Some places along the way have long intrigued us.  Now we could stop.  We could take time to see other friends and family in the area.  Penciling in a target departure date, we agreed to leave a return date to-be-determined.  We’d go where the wind blew us and just wait and see when it blew us toward home.

I approached the week leading up to our departure with that loose plan in mind.  Turns out, as with most plans, it was good to hold it loosely. 

Because I received a phone call…   

The who, what, and where of this part of story aren’t mine to tell.  Those things don’t matter in the message I hope to convey by sharing my perspective of it. 

In fact, the details told me much less about the urgency of a call for help than did knowing the character of the one who’d made it:  Someone I’ve known and loved dearly for almost my whole life.  A strong, capable soul far more accustomed to receiving and responding to others’ calls for help than to making one. 

So, when I answered that call and heard, “Can you get here the day after tomorrow?” only one response even entered my mind: “Yes.” 

Up to that moment, our plans had sounded like fun.  But now?  Just like that:   

I changed my mind. 

I “sacrificed” nothing in doing so.  After that call, I wouldn’t have chosen to go anywhere else in the world.  It helped that I’d already semi-prepared to travel nearly 1,000 miles for an undetermined amount of time.  I just needed to shift those plans and go almost exactly the same distance, but in an opposite direction, for very different reasons. 

Even though my plans had changed, I encouraged my husband to proceed with visiting his parents.  I knew they’d empathize with my last-minute absence. 

We booked a flight that would get me where I needed to go in a hurry. 

Time passed in a blur, as abandoning the small stack of things I’d begun setting aside for Florida, I switched my focus to gathering only what I imagined needing to show up and provide support through an unexpected challenge:  Comfy leggings and tops.  Walking shoes.  Pajamas and the most basic toiletries.  My Bible, Jesus Calling, and my book.  As I stashed it all into one bag – which airline and TSA rules would require I check – my sense of apprehension grew...

I do not like to fly.

Eight years of motorcycle race travel with our son taught me to roll with thousand-mile weekend road trips like a champ. 

I’ve never learned to roll with flying. 

I don’t necessarily fear crashing (although, I’d always prefer not to…)  Then again, given even an inkling that I’d board a flight anytime soon, I might have skipped reading two books featuring plane crash plotlines since December. 

But I for sure struggle with heights and small spaces.  I’ve experienced the cold sweat and tunnel vision that accompany legitimate panic.  What if that happened to me on a plane - alone?  Also?  I’m used to independence when I travel.  I like taking everything I want to take.  I don’t like an airline having the power to delay or strand me in some unfamiliar place.  …Alone?  Wearing a mask?  More thinking equaled more angst.  I tried to ignore it.  What choice did I have?

By the end of my one day to prepare, I felt mentally overwhelmed - to the point of tears.  My husband and son each offered to drive me to the airport late the following morning.  At that point, considering all the emotions I had going on, choosing between them felt like too much.  

So, I went to bed. 

Summoning my inner Scarlett O’Hara, I declared I’d think about that tomorrow.  Wrong.  I thought about it all night:  How I dreaded everything about flying.  How unqualified I felt to know how to help with the situation I’d face upon reaching my destination.  

I barely slept at all.    

Still, as it always has so far, morning came.  Dragging myself out of bed, exhausted and no more certain of anything than I’d been the night before, I texted my husband.  …Who should drive me to the airport in a few hours – when I really didn’t want to have to go there at all!? 

In a fit of distress, my thumbs kept going, “I wish I could just get in my car and drive…”  

But I can’t.  Not now…

“Can’t” becomes a funny word for me at times like this.  It doesn’t signify that anything renders me technically unable.  Rather, it means choosing to do something that defies other people’s logical sense - and assuming all the risk involved:  What if they’re right, and I’m wrong?   

More unsettled than ever, I tore into making my bed and, off-the-cuff, implored God, “What should I do??”

I’d love to say that right then something miraculous occurred.  Or that I at least found out my flight had been cancelled.  Or that I received any other clear sign.  Unfortunately, that’s just not how it usually happens for me. 

But something did happen.

My mind settled just enough to consider:  Why can’t I just get in my car and drive?  How different might I feel if I could?  Yes, I’m expected to board a plane in several hours. But I don’t have to…

Allowing that thought, I felt the most crushing part of my anxiety about the situation begin to lift.

That’s when I knew:  Though it might sound illogical to everyone else, I did have my answer.  I could step out of the raging current dragging me toward the airport.  I’d rather start a one-day, thousand-mile drive alone.

Finally, I felt some peace.  Sometimes we don’t have a choice.  Most times - we do... 

When I ask God for a clue, I’ll take peace as His answer any time. 

I changed my mind. 

I spent the next hour quickly showering and (blissfully liberated from airport rules) packing things I no longer had to leave behind:  My pillow and blanket.  Another bag with snacks and some wine.  More shoes (just in case!)

I broke the news of my change of plans to my husband, kids, parents, and best friend.  Reactions ranged from “Whatever you think…” to “Why??” to “By yourself??” to “I’m relieved for you.” 

By now, I only had one regret:  That I hadn’t let myself change my mind sooner. 

I could have slept better and started this journey earlier!    

My sweet son loaded my still-meager-for-me (but better than I could have taken on a plane!) baggage into my car.  Closing my door, he reminded me, “Be careful where you stop… Remember, if you start to get tired, turn the air colder…”  I reminded him that I love and would miss him. 

Then, I drove away. 

I drank my coffee.  Listened to the latest episodes of all my favorite podcasts.  Finished half an audiobook.  Contemplated what I could offer when I got where I was going.  Prayed for the wisdom to help.  Prayed harder to do no harm…

I noticed the clock:  The hour when I would have arrived at the airport; boarded the plane; taken off; landed for a layover.  

I drove.  Watched the miles count down, one at a time. 

Some might think I’d chosen the “harder” way to cover this distance, but to me, it felt… right. 

Eventually, my thoughts and my heart began to settle.  I could see things so much more clearly than I had amidst the disorientation of trying to figure everything out at once.  I thought (maybe because we’d just finished watching The Chosen) of Peter when Jesus granted him the power to walk on water.  Step by step, Peter was making it – until he looked ahead at the strength of the wind.  Only then did fear begin to sink him.  But loving Jesus reached out his hand.  Helped him.  I have that same Jesus.  Just like Peter, I only ever need to take one step; one mile; one day at a time – remembering that He is with me.   

I changed my mind.  Again. 

I called my husband.  “I left some clothes on a suitcase for Florida.  Take them with you?  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll make it for at least a few days.  I do have a car now…”  At that point, if I got the opportunity, why would 500-more miles stop me? 

I drove.

Toward a watercolor Smoky Mountain sunset.  Through places I’ve only heard of in country songs.  Passing through map dots, I felt comforted and humbled by the realization that, even so far from home, I was never too far from friends I’ve made along the way in this life.  To think:  Had I not changed my mind, I’d have flown over and missed it all.

Thirteen hours after I left my driveway, I pulled into another… Remarkably, at the exact time my last flight would have landed. 

I gave and received hugs, then settled in for whatever came next.  I’d made it.  To exactly where I wanted to be.    

Nights and days passed.  We talked.  Sat quietly.  Did fun things.  Faced hard things.  Slept.  Stayed up late.  All of it strengthening already beautiful bonds.  In some ways, it feels wrong to say I enjoyed the time without adding something about wishing it had been under different circumstances.  But I can’t truthfully say that.  Not when I learned so much from walking through it, exactly the way I did.  From doing what I needed to come running when called; to show up and be present; to face any circumstance.  That feels like loving to me. 

Five days later, I felt the peace to move on.  Bags loaded, sunglasses on - I hit the road again. 

And drove. 

Nine hours later; another sunset in my rearview mirror; my husband guided me into an oceanfront driveway.   

…The next few mornings brought 4-mile walks on the white sand beach.  

The afternoons - weekday margaritas (with chips and guac!) in chilly February sunshine.

We visited places that, until now, we’d only said we would “someday.” 

I kicked off my shoes and ran onto the sand to photograph a breathtaking full moon over the ocean.

 I enjoyed a shorter, yet sweet, visit with my parents-in-law. 

All made more special by the awareness that, had I not changed my mind, I would have had none of it.      

Ten days and 2,300 miles later, I pulled back into my driveway - better for having experienced it all.

Maybe you’ve lost your sense of peace with a plan or decision that once seemed right to you.  If so, I encourage you to consider how it might feel to change your mind.

The next time I remind my kids that they can always do so, maybe they’ll feel a little more inclined to believe me.  Not because of anything I say, but because of what they’ve seen me do. 

Maybe they’ll trust that I have learned a thing or two about how, sometimes, we find life’s truest blessings along paths we didn’t plan to take.