By Cathy Hird

I go find my son. "Change of plan," I say to him. He looks quizzical. "The tractor overheated out in the lane. We need to go with Dad and figure out what went wrong." Five minutes later, the three of us jump in the truck and head back.

We were supposed to take the same vehicle to town and look at water bowls for the barn. One of them needs to be replaced right away. But haying takes priority in this season, so getting the tractor fixed comes first.

This happens all the time on the farm. We talk over the job list, put a plan in place for the day, and then adapt. Often it is an equipment issue that sidetracks what we think is going to get done. Sometimes it is an unexpected shift in the weather. At other times it is the birth of a lamb or a sick sheep. No matter how good our organization, things are not going to go the way we plan.

So you would think I would be good at "going with the flow." For 27 years, the farm has been trying to teach me to be flexible. But still, I am a planner. I organize my day. I make lists. I look ahead and have things laid out days, weeks ahead. I like to be in control. The farm still has a lot to teach me about letting things happen the way they will.

How do we learn to live in the moment, to accept with grace the sudden shifts in direction? How do we deal with the surprising challenges that life brings?

Someone else might answer this way: "We need to understand that everything happens for a reason. God has a plan. There is something God wants us to learn."

I would not say that. I do not believe in a God who moves us around like pieces on a chess board. I do not think that God decides what is going to happen each day to every person. Rather, when something hard happens, I think we can lean on divine wisdom, transcendent strength to get through what we have to face.

The problem with humanity, especially those of us who are nurtured by western culture, is that we want to move things around like chess pieces. We tend to think, "I should be able to do this; I can make my own choices for my life."

We forget we are limited beings with only so much power. It is hard for us to give in to the forces around us - whether that is friction on a drive shaft or nature's need to rain. We fight against the limits of our power and freedom.

When we are aware of our limits, we may slow down. We may remember that we cannot anticipate all the consequences of an action. If we remember there are problems we do not have the ability or strength to fix, we may not barrel straight ahead and cause these problems.

When I start a day, I need to remember that I alone do not decide things. I am in relationship to the world around me. Forces of nature decide whether we get sun or rain. Sheep are living creatures. My family has a say in what happens, and emergencies happen in my congregation. My day intersects with all these people, all these forces, all these creatures. My plan is just one strand in the web. My strand is important, but not the whole.

When we take into consideration, as much as we can, the intentions of the world we are walking through, we will plan differently. At least, we will accept the sudden changes of direction with grace and even hope.

Lao Tzu, whose wisdom helps me as I try to live in the moment, wrote, "Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like."

I also listen to the 14th Century Christian mystic Julian of Norwich, who wrote, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."

Cathy Hird is a writer, minister and farmer living near Walter's Falls.