Broken Dreams and Beautiful Changes

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All my life God has been busy shaking up my plans.

At fifteen I was determined to be a world-renowned television journalist. I would be known as brilliant, politically savvy, and never tied down to such mundane things like a husband and babies. I praise God for turning my mixed up priorities and desires around.

When I was twenty-one I prepared to attend a four year university three hours from home; I was going to join the choir, be known for my hard work, and make a difference. After discovering that I would not be able to wear a headcovering, plans changed. I later found out that I was accepted to attend a three month mission training school and, with some trepidation, packed my bags for Ghana, Africa. Those three months were life altering and an amazing gift from God.

By twenty-three I was intending to graduate the next year with a degree in elementary education. Afterwards I was to journey somewhere far off—maybe Mongolia, Ghana, or Detroit, Michigan—and utilize my skills while ministering in the name of Jesus. However, my plans where turned upside down when my counselor and I discovered a missing math class. It seems one cannot progress without the important stuff (like algebra). Hah! So with a broken heart I laid aside my plans . . . two more years. Two more years.

By this time I felt like I was going nowhere. Several of my friends were getting married, graduating, or going off to the mission field . . . sometimes all at once. “Lord, I’ve tried to be faithful here at home. I’ve tried to be useful but it seems like I’m getting nowhere.” I know God just smiled down on me; His will was perfect, His shaking up of my plans where necessary. During this hard time I:

began to find joy and contentment in serving in my local church.

 was able to be at home during a time when I was needed.

 began to make quality friendships with my fellow students on campus.

watched God meet all my financial needs through a long, you-can’t-drive-to-school-on-fumes winter.

 became (I still had my moments J) at peace with my single state.

 was finally at rest with where God had planted me.

All in all, last winter was a season of fear, destroyed plans, and discouragement. It was also a season of watching the Lord God work in and through my wee life. So amidst my (I hate to say it) sighs and worried frowns there were times of pure trusting in God and rejoicing in His unknown will.  

And then one early spring day my dad came home and mentioned this guy from church. It seemed his mom, who cuts my dad’s hair, thought her son and I might be able to hit it off or at least become friends. I laughed. This young man was normal in that my conservative dress and ways were sure to make him roll his eyes and turn the other direction. (Yes, I had a serious case of pride and prejudice going on!) Dad informed me of all the honorable traits he knew about and I listened out of curiosity. He sounded great: a Christian man who stood apart from the world, hardworking, and took care of his family. But he was just that; a nice brother in Christ who would never be interested in me.

Then one Sunday his dear mom pulled me to the front where I could meet her son. It was a quiet, short conversation in which I noticed that he was great with kids and had lovely blue eyes. I was duly impressed with the comical calmness he showed after his niece spit up all over his arm. (Remember my post on babies? J) But that was it. No sparks. No confirmation in my heart. Only a quiet Sunday conversation.

Then the phone rang on Monday.

It was then that I realized this young man was not only a hardworking, Christian man who took care of his family and did well with children. This was a young man of sincerity and earnest heart. We talked briefly when he asked me out on a date. A date. My goodness! Frannie doesn’t go out. Is he sure that he called the right girl? I mean, I wear dresses and headcoverings and watch Tangled far too often. I’m headed to the mission field and such things like romance, well, I never thought it would come my way.

Needless to say I eventually went on that date. And then another. And then another. We’ve spent a lot of time in my family’s living room awkwardly laughing over my granma’s blatant approval and my granpa’s story about the time he was caught between the two ends of an inflatable raft without a paddle. We’ve attended a wedding where every fellow guest seemed to radiate the inquiry “Oh, Frannie brought a man along; are you . . . courting?” J We’ve had our moments of miscommunication like the day when he said “I’d like to be more than friends” and I heard him say, “I just want to be friends.” (Trust me, that is one astonishing miscommunication there . . . so glad we got that straightened out!) And we’ve had our moments of vulnerability like the time I shared my past with him totally expecting him to walk away and he didn’t.

I am learning so much during this season of life. I’m learning how to trust—my trustworthy God and this wonderful man. I’m learning what I believe and why. I’m learning how to express my feelings. And I am learning that sometimes God changes our plans only to replace our broken dreams with something far more beautiful and good. I’m seeing that my dreams can be completed in ways far greater by means far more wonderful than I ever imagined.

This was a really l o n g post but so many of you expressed interest in my story I couldn’t help but share it. And guess what, dear readers? This is only the beginning.

With lots of love to you!

Frannie