unsure

I like to have a plan. I like knowing what is happening next: first there is A, and then there is B, and then we move to C. That’s the natural order of things. Plans equal safety -whenever there is a plan, there is a way to execute things properly.

Lately my life has resembled something closer to alphabet soup. First I go to G and then I’m back to E and then I’m forced all the way to Q.
My neat little list has been ripped into shreds in the face of the unexpected. 

But, the good news is, God knows. 
He knows what the future holds, even if right now everything looks like a muddled mess. 
Quite literally. 

Maybe you’re struggling, too. Maybe things are uncertain and terrifying for you. Maybe you’re not sure where the next paycheck is coming from, or whether or not your family member will make it to spend another Christmas with you, or if you’ll ever be able to stop living out of sloppy-thrown-together boxes… 
Or maybe school is killing you, and your mom won’t get off your back, and the dog next door won’t shut its snout for long enough for you to get some shut-eye. 

Maybe all of those perfectly planned ideas of how your life would be are sitting in a pile right next to you (along with your unfolded laundry). 

Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. 

Even though we can’t see it now, God is spelling out something glorious. 
And He wouldn’t be able to do that with our neatly organized rows of alphabetized plans - He isn’t mandated by our schedules, He doesn’t follow our mortal intentions. He is not chained to our demands. 

Whatever it is you’re going through, whatever it is that’s got you nervous, whatever it is that has you up at night… it’s gonna be okay.

He has you, even if you don’t think you have yourself.

-31Women (Ansley)

I. We’re fifteen and you’re holding me tighter than anyone ever has. My world seems to be falling apart, but you seem to be the only one that can keep me together.

II. We’re sixteen and you’re whispering sweet nothings in her ear. And it’s not anyone, it’s my other best friend. I don’t know why, but I hate it. You both asked if it was okay and of course I said yes because what else would I say? You catch my gaze from across the room. You can read me like a book and see something off, but instead you send me back a smile.

It’s been four months and you guys were over before you started. I’m with him and you hate him. He’s sweet and funny and cute and a good distraction from whatever is missing.

III. We’re seventeen and we’re as normal as ever. Maybe too normal. We kissed, but nothing happened. I pretty much told you how I felt, but nothing happened.

It’s been six months and you have her. You say you’re not together, but I see the way you talk so closely so no one hears and the way you sneak off together when you think no ones looking. I don’t know why you won’t tell me because I’m happy for you.

IV. We’re eighteen and haven’t held an actual conversation in three months. You’re busy with this and I’m busy with that. We walk past each other without a single glance. My heart breaks everyday we don’t talk. I miss my best friend.

It’s been two months and you’re standing in front of me telling me everything that’s gone through your head since we’ve last talked. It’s nothing I would’ve expected and makes me feel almost guilty for being mad at you. You keep apologizing and telling me you don’t deserve me, but we both know that’s not true. I take your hand and take you back downstairs and keep dancing.

It’s been two weeks and we’re back to normal. We keep avoiding the conversation about me going to school in a few weeks and you staying here. You know it’s going to happen because your gazes are longer and your touches linger.

V. We’re nineteen and we manage to be more mature and immature than ever. We’re sitting on the roof just outside my window telling each other all the things that’s happened, which isn’t much because we pretty much covered all of it when it happened. The feeling of content and safety come back to me within minutes of holding your hand.

It’s been three months and I’m back at home with you. That feeling is coming back, but every time I open my eyes you’re there and I’m not as scared as I used to be.

—  We’ll see when we’re twenty