It was a different kind of Easter to say the least.  For one thing, Harry wasn’t doing sound for the services at GCC. No eggs were dyed. We sang none of the songs you’re supposed to sing on Easter and listened to a mini-cantata. And we spent a few hours at the nursing home with my grandmother following lunch at the new all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in town. Can you eat sesame chicken on Easter and still call it Easter? I’m still not sure.

It may have been different, but I’ll never forget being in the nursing home that afternoon.  My mom, the amazing unstump-able pianist that she is played every song suggested to her–mostly old hymns like “Old Rugged Cross,” “How Great Thou Art,” “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” and “My Jesus, I Love Thee.”  After we sang “My Jesus, I Love Thee,” my grandmother said, “Now that was an old one.” We didn’t know Evelyn before that afternoon, but she sang her heart out. 

My grandmother doesn’t remember why she’s at the nursing home.  Or the fact that her sisters have passed away.  Or how to plant flowers like she used to do every year.  Or how to make chicken n’ dumplin’s. Or that the 30 cards on the wall were in honor of her birthday.  Or that her legs won’t work the same way they used to and she shouldn’t try to stand without help.  Or how to eat enough food to nourish her body.  Or that she shouldn’t be worried about me and Harry finding a place to sit, food to eat or calling my mom to tell her that we made it safely.  She doesn’t remember the Scriptures she had committed to memory without prompting.  

But she remembers the songs and she sings.  At 91, she sings the sweet melodies and harmonies that she’s sung all her life at perfect pitch.  

She remembers how to laugh most of the time.

And she remembers us.  And that’s enough.

Proverbs 16:3 “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.”

I want someone to tell me that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but life isn’t always like that.  Often, I have to be content with the opportunities in front of me and satisfied that God has provided those and trust Him to use them in my life.  Often, I have to struggle with contentment because I wrestle against perfectionism in every aspect of my life–something that makes me a good writer because I enjoy the revision process, but makes me a tortured soul because I find it hard to allow things to be imperfect even though they so often are!  

I find this verse really comforting because I am the worst kind of planner–the one that thinks that if the plan is good enough, I shouldn’t encounter any problems along the way.  Ha!  But I can read this verse and remember that no matter what I’m doing, it is the Lord who establishes my plans.  I don’t have to be tortured–just committed to the work He has put before me….encouraging a friend, finding staff for an elderly client, communicating with a case manager, singing on the worship team, doing laundry, making dinner for a friend, writing an article or spending time with my grandmother while she struggles to remember where she is and what this life is about.