Good morning, it’s 28 degrees outside! Brr. Apparently we’re done with simple long sleeves and have entered the “where are my gloves?” phase. It’s the beginning of November in the midwest, so bring on the hot chocolate (one cup only, watch the carbs).
It’s also open season for insurance plans, and both my financial advisor and the friend who has been my agent/advocate all year on health bills insist on letting the government system handle that mess. Chronic issues mean my days of avoiding doctors are over, and “catastrophic only” coverage no longer fits. As if to clinch it, a simple med refill yesterday included “You’re getting regular blood checks to watch potassium levels, right?” Um, sure.
Here’s the catch-22… finding a primary includes choosing an insurance, finding an insurance includes choosing a primary, and both include choosing a state. My life has grown in Indy, parent-care means Ohio or a lot of freeway miles, and fragmented life has worn out its welcome. Simple answers have been suggested by those who don’t know all the questions. There’s a blog about that, when I have more time on the keyboard than the gas pedal.
I have a meeting in Ohio Sunday before I hit the road again, then a week to help pack the office in Indy because our lease is up, possibly including a fast-pack of my lodging an hour away from there. After an initial visit with a new doctor in Indy, I return to Ohio because one parent has a surgery in a couple of weeks and the local eye doctor wants to follow up on recent findings and any med adjustments made in Indy. Meanwhile, the other parent is recovering from a sudden onset of “something like gout but worse.” Timing canceled an intended visit to South Bend with a stop in Plymouth and the month of gathering with writing friends in Indy, but allowed two gaps for deaf event weekends in Indy and KY. One was more for pleasure, the other more for business, and involved cancelling a road trip to Iowa, but kept me near OH when the next medical event popped up.
Meanwhile, the baby who owns the quilt I’ve been working on since before she was born is almost 7 months old, and I have fabric for another born late September. But quilt-sewing by machine is not really a portable activity.
Got whiplash yet? I do. But here’s the thing, whether your calendar is full of cancellations and adjustments like mine, or you’ve given up and thrown the thing in the trash (tempting!), I can say with certainty that Jesus isn’t surprised. He has planned for all possible contingencies, which allows for free will while getting His purposes accomplished with or without one human’s aid. He also finds ways to give us little reminders that He sees and cares about every detail, down to bobbins and gas pumps (blog articles for later). So life really is about the relationship you have and the opportunities for others to observe and crave that kind of stability. Especially when one can’t answer a simple “where do you live?” without laughing.