When Plans Change

Most of us are planners—whether we admit it or not. We sketch out timelines, set intentions, imagine how the story will unfold. Even when we hold those plans lightly, they give us a sense of direction, control, and hope. Plans tell us who we think we are and where we believe we are headed.

And then… plans change.

Sometimes the shift is dramatic and sudden—a diagnosis, a loss, a call we never expected, a door that closes without warning. Other times, the change is quieter: a slow realization that what once fit no longer does, that the path we’re on is misaligned, or that the dream we were chasing has gently but firmly evolved.

The week of January 25th, I had a plan. I was scheduled to leave Albuquerque early Wednesday morning to attend a conference where I would be speaking about clergy mental health and the work of Chrysalis. I was excited, prepared, and packed. And then plans changed. The day before my departure, I had a diagnostic mammogram that indicated an issue. Instead of getting on a plane Wednesday morning, I had a biopsy. By Friday, I received the results: an intraductal papilloma—a noncancerous tumor. While surgery is still ahead to have it removed, the news itself brought relief. Enough relief, in fact, that I took myself out for a celebratory coffee and a cookie!

When plans change, it can feel deeply disorienting. In these moments, our instinct is often to rush toward resolution: What’s next? How do I fix this? How do I get back on track? But perhaps the invitation is not to rush, but to pause. To sit with the discomfort. To acknowledge the disappointment, the fear, the anger—or even the unexpected relief—that can surface when plans fall apart.

Scripture is full of people whose lives did not unfold according to plan. Moses did not plan to lead a people through the wilderness. Ruth did not plan to leave her homeland. Peter did not plan to deny Jesus—or to become the rock on which the church would be built. Again and again, God seems to work not through perfectly executed plans, but through open hearts willing to respond when plans change.

There is a difference between having no direction and being open to redirection. When plans change, we are often invited to loosen our grip—on certainty, on control, on the belief that we know exactly how the story should go. With time and perspective, many of us can look back and see that the unplanned detours shaped us in ways our original plans never could. They expanded our compassion, clarified our values, and deepened our trust—not because the disruption was easy, but because we stayed present to it.

When plans change, it doesn’t mean we have failed. It may mean we are being formed. The question is not whether our plans will change—they will—but whether we can remain open, curious, and grounded when they do. Sometimes the truest path forward only becomes visible after the map we were following no longer applies. And sometimes, grace meets us not at our intended destination, but in the quiet pause—coffee and cookie in hand—where we realize we are still held, still guided, and still very much on the journey.

Blessings to you in the unplanned…

Kelly