INK ARIA

PLANNING FOR SPONTANEITY

Renee Gehman

We had just arrived in Dushore, Pennsylvania—home of the only traffic light in Sullivan County. Now in the kitchen of our family cabin my parents and I stood in that moment after a long car ride where you feel compelled to plant your feet in one place and just be.

Compulsion soon relieved, I asked my dad for an estimated time of departure for dinner in town. Well, apparently my dad was still in his moment, and I had interrupted him, because he threw up his hands and said, "Renee—when I come up here, I don’t plan anything." Then he proceeded to tell me about a recent TV special regarding the correlation between families who pack their schedules full and families who produce "troubled" teenagers.

I knew I was too old to become a troubled teenager, and I wasn’t convinced that bodily nourishment counted as an activity that contributes to the corruption of families. Of course, my dad wasn’t implying either of these things; he merely wanted to point out that not every hour of a person’s life needs to be planned out. Organized life does not always equal good life. Sane life—yes. Boring life—quite possibly. Lived-deeply with-all-the-marrow-sucked-out-life—probably not. To have a plan is practical and comforting, but the ability to be spontaneous is a healthy and necessary skill in this wonderful world of inconstancy.

There are those who are naturally spontaneous; others, such as myself, need to have spontaneous activity practically forced upon them through mockery and other methods of insult. My friend Ryan is from Spain, where people are generally very laid back, very flexible. Whenever Ryan would suggest something to do without giving me at least a week’s notice, my tendency was to decline, usually because it would mean rearranging the schedule I had just written out by the hour for the next five days.

One night Ryan flat out told me that I was incapable of being spontaneous. Shocked and offended (and very much in denial), I responded with, "Well can you do something spontaneous two Saturdays from now? We don’t have to plan what it is, we’ll just wait for the day and then do something random." To which Ryan argued that an event doesn’t qualify as spontaneous when scheduled to occur two weeks in advance.

Then I surprised us both by challenging him to accompany me on a drive up to Maine. Neither of us had ever been to Maine, we had always wanted to go, and here I was, unflexible Renee, ready to embark on a bonafide spontaneous road trip at 9:45 at night. So off we went, without even a map to guide us, figuring Maine is north of Massachusetts, so we’d just drive north.

Indeed, within a couple of hours we spontaneously came upon a road sign that read, "Maine—the way life should be." Unfortunately for us, life the way it should be turned out to mean all businesses closed by 11:30 p.m. and everyone in bed resting up for another day of correct living. However, we did find a nice beach to walk along before heading back, and all in all it was an evening well spent.

Alas, that refreshingly liberating act of spontaneity was perhaps not as life-altering for me as it should have been. Even now, as I type this article, I look to the left of me and there are two lists—one an inventory of everything I’d like to get done today, and the other a more detailed second draft of the first:

6:30 clean room;

7:00 pick out two of six hymns for Sunday;

7:30 breakfast;

8:00 work on column;

8:45 hem dress.

And this goes on until 6:45 in the evening, at which point I allow myself a choice of three options for the rest of my Saturday night.

I like my lists. Crossing items off a list gives me a sense of accomplishment, and completing a list empowers me with the sensation of being in control. And it is a good feeling but also something I feel compelled to relinquish as of late. As Proverbs 19:21 puts it, "Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails." Which is bad news for my aspirations to have it all figured out but good news when I consider who really does have it all figured out.

So what to do when I am too busy following my schedule to remember this good news? What to do when I find myself insisting on knowing the way things are supposed to play out? Now back at school, I consider the décor of my living space and am seriously contemplating the construction of a sign for my wall that reads: "Don’t forget to be spontaneous." Or maybe "Spontaneity is the spice of life."

Of course such a dangerous little reminder could potentially lead to a crazy night when I close all my textbooks and have a snowball fight with complete strangers . . . or jump in the pond . . . or stay up past midnight drinking hot chocolate and pleasure-reading. But at least it could make me more flexible with my time.

And the more flexibility I allow for in my schedule, the easier it is for me to give up my need to have the next hour, the next day, and the next five years planned out.

And as I begin to accept little moments of spontaneity here and there, as I release my grip on the wheel that guides me through my life, it becomes easier for me to remember and find comfort in this promise from God— "For I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

After all, giving God the wheel is the most practical way to be spontaneous. And so long as God is in charge, I think I can be flexible.

But I do still want to know when I’m eating dinner.

—Renee Gehman, Souderton, Pennsylvania, is a senior at Gordon College in Wenham, Massachusetts, and assistant editor of DreamSeeker Magazine.