Plan
the first 2020 issue, on the 395th day of 2020
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Hi, hello, welcome to the first issue of In A Word of the decade. I know the new year conversation is over, and “plan” is kind of a new year-y theme, but stay with me. It’s not my fault these two weeks have been the longest in our lifetimes.
In this issue, you’ll find an essay on why “dreams” freak me out, my new planner, a meal planning tool, a birth plan humor piece, a closing benediction…so much good stuff.
Listen to the audio version here.
The future freaks me out. For the obvious, collective reasons, but also because of the pressure I feel to have a capital P “Plan” for the next year, or five.
I fear that if I don’t meticulously plan my every move, I’ll go nowhere. This fear is amplified by the (false) impression that everyone else is working from their own flawless Master Plans.
Me, seeing other people’s plans as the Great and Powerful Oz when we’re actually all a little scared and a lot human. Photo: Warner Home Video
At a retreat with my mastermind group last fall, I was on the “hot seat,” meaning the other women listened to me talk about a problem, and then helped me gain some insight about it. In the middle, tears and vulnerability flowing, Courtney asked a piercing question with all the tenderness in the world: “Do you let yourself dream?”
I’d just written an issue of In A Word themed around the word “dream,” and discovered that I had some dream baggage. The subtext I heard in her question was that I was limiting myself, thinking too small, afraid to fail.
I’m more of a head down, one-step-at-a-time doer than a dreamer. I am not a visionary, and I’ve often felt unimaginative and small in a generation steeped in side hustles, startups, and passion projects.
I get anxious around the dream conversation because I (wrongly) believe that other people have more control of themselves than I do. I assume they have clarity about the future, immovable confidence in their callings. I assume they can see miles ahead, while I flail in the fog.
“No one knows what they’re doing,” is a cliché by now, but it’s worth repeating. There are different approaches, but we all must contend with the unknown, and ourselves.
Some people see a wide open calendar and feel exhilarated by all that possibility and potential. Others, (me), immediately want to start grounding those pages in time and place. I love structure that doesn’t suffocate, that leaves margin for course changes, for happy and hard surprises.
What I have to look out for this time of year, whether I’m using Powersheets or a bullet journal or a Get to Work Book, are the existential pressures I might be putting on my plans. Often, I’ve unconsciously hoped my plans would spare me from disappointment, insignificance, melancholy, and wasted time.
My problem isn’t with goal setting generally, but with pinning contentment, worthiness, wholeness, and connection to some future outcome. Contrary to what I’ve subconsciously believed, achievement is not a viable modality for wholeness and connection.
Worthiness in particular is to be embraced, not chased.
Nothing we do in 2020 will make us more worthy of love than we already are. And no matter what we do (or don’t,) we will be different a year from now. Much of what will change and what will change us will be out of our control.
I’m making my plans for 2020 less like the world is my oyster, and more like I’m the grain of sand inside the oyster: in the dark, transforming day by day under God’s tender care.
While I was thinking through my angst around dreaming this week, I read this in a newsletter from John Mark McMillan. A good, timely reminder. (The photo is by Rebecca Lynn Olson.)
When the Doorman Is Your Main Man, centered on an unplanned pregnancy, might be my favorite Modern Love essay. (I also loved the episode of the show Modern Love based on this essay!)
I’ve used a lot of different planners. They’ve all helped me toggle between the big picture and the day-to-day. But when Erin shared the Sacred Ordinary Days planner in The Swipe Up, I could not click “add to cart” fast enough.
This planner follows the liturgical year instead of the calendar year, and integrates spiritual practices like the Daily Office, Sabbath, and Examen with the typical planner-y elements I know and love. One of my goal setting challenges is compartmentalizing everything and then struggling to reintegrate them in my one life. This is particularly true for my spiritual life.
(If you’re unfamiliar with liturgical practices but intrigued, check out the Sacred Ordinary Days resources page.)
My meal planning “system” has been broken for a long time. (Because it’s so much more than cooking.)
We started using the app Plan to Eat last month, and we love it.
The truly genius part is that when I add a recipe to my plan, it automatically makes my grocery list. Mike and I can both see the recipes, the list, and the plan. (Use their free trial option if you’re curious! My recipes are public so you’ll be able to see them through my link.)
I love PlanToys for well-made, sustainable kids’ toys. This pull along puppy has been a favorite, as was this baby roller toy.
Some last links worth a click:
Jamie and Jeff’s Birth Plan (I laughed so hard at this.)
May we greet interruptions as teachers, leading us beyond our finite vision and best laid plans.
As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on anything this issue calls to mind for you. Simply respond to this email to let me know.
Gratefully, Jacey
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