My plans and dreams had been too small, too tame

I always imagined that when my grandchildren entered this world, I’d be a quaint little old grandmother—the kind that knits booties and bonnets for new grandbabies. The kind that sits in a rocking chair and sings infants to sleep.

But I was in for a surprise—and not a welcome one. Both God and my husband ganged up on me and hollered “Africa!”

I told you recently about a hippo that charged me: I escaped with five seconds to spare. How many other grandmas have been charged by a hippo?

And then I received an unpleasant introduction to pit latrines. How many other grandmas have ever had to use a pit latrine?

Originally, I had thought our rough wooden outhouses with black toilet seats were bad, but compared with pit latrines, those elevated, black toilet seats were, in my opinion, things of beauty.

I myself, however, was not a thing of beauty.

Without electricity, I couldn’t use a blow dryer or curling iron, and my hair was a disaster.

Nor could I use an iron, and my clothes stayed as wrinkled as when I wrung them out and pegged them on the line to dry. (They’re not clothespins in East Africa. They’re clothes pegs.)

Women wore skirts because, back then, Kenyans believe trousers revealed too much of a woman’s body.

I wore safari boots with my skirts and, oh, if my friends back home could have seen me! Everybody—my friends, my relatives, and even I—had always expected I’d live a genteel life in a little white house with a picket fence and a rose garden.

Instead, I was camping in Africa—with limp hair, wrinkled clothes, and no makeup.

Little by little, I was realizing God had not planned for me to be a genteel, quaint little lady.

Sometimes we need to let go of our dreams and plans

because God has bigger, better plans.

When that happens,

we need to figure out who we are

because we’re not who we thought we were—

I didn’t even look like what I thought I should.

I was transitioning into a different person

and a different dream.

I’d have to make other plans.

Letting go of old dreams and embracing new ones

is uncomfortable.  So uncertain.

But on the other hand,

since my plans and dreams had been too small, too tame,

what did God’s ongoing plans for me look like?

And would I embrace them with joy?