It All Begins Here

It All Begins Here

It All Begins Here

Holding Plans Lightly

I am a planner.

Not a “kind of” planner… a details-on-details planner. Especially at Christmas.

Every moment accounted for.

We’ll leave here.

Go there.

Eat this.

Do that.

This year was no different — except it mattered more.

I was getting both of my adult children home for just a short few days, and when time feels limited, I feel the pressure to make it count. So I planned more than usual. I wanted everything to be just right. I wanted to soak up every minute.

We had the brisket on the smoker, timing it perfectly for a 6:30 Christmas dinner. Except—for the first time in the entire smoking-brisket history of the Caudle family—it finished early. (Who even knew that was possible?)

Then came the curveballs.

Plans shifted with young adults.

Communication wasn’t quite what we thought it was.

Micah celebrated Christmas with his girlfriend’s family, so we pivoted.

Then we traveled north to be with my family… and then pivoted again when Micah needed to head back.

Expectation after expectation had to be released.

And if I’m honest, that’s hard for me. I like knowing what’s coming. I like control disguised as “being prepared.”

But somewhere toward the end of Christmas, something shifted in me.

I stopped gripping the plans so tightly.

I let go of the timeline.

I loosened my expectations.

And suddenly… I enjoyed myself more.

It reminded me of this truth:

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

Proverbs 16:9

Planning isn’t wrong. Being prepared isn’t the problem.

The problem comes when we clutch our plans so tightly that we leave no room for God’s plans—or for life to unfold differently than we imagined.

Holding plans loosely doesn’t mean we don’t care.

It means we trust more.

As I step into 2026, this feels like a lesson I needed.

A reminder that flexibility is a gift.

That joy often lives on the other side of releasing control.

That God can do beautiful things in the spaces we didn’t plan for.

So I’m still going to plan—because that’s who I am.

But I’m learning to leave room.

Room for God.

Room for change.

Room for the unexpected.

What plans are you holding too tightly right now—and what might happen if you loosen your grip just a little?