What Artemis II Taught a Mom of 10 About God’s Plan

Life is Bigger than Our Plans

Like many around the world, I found myself riveted by the journey of Artemis II.   Most especially, I found the notion of being 252,756 miles from home and out of contact with all other humans other than the three in the cabin with me to be both awe-inspiring and terrifying.  Looking out beyond what we can see, into the vastness of space, one had to feel both overwhelmingly small and oddly connected with the Creator.

God made all of the cosmos because God is not interested in slaves or robots but in giving people the freedom to experiment and discover just how imaginative He is.   God’s plans are always bigger than ours and better than ours, even if ours are good.

My plan as a young married woman was to get a doctorate so I could run a school.  God’s plan involved wrestling with the raising of ten people, and returning to teaching where I would be regularly humbled by the energy and humor, the kindness and capacity of my students.   Staring out at them in the classroom is staring out into the unknowable cosmos, knowing that each of them is a universe of gifts.   Sometimes it is a joy, and sometimes it feels overwhelming.   I don’t want to fail any of them.   What I have to trust is God’s plan for me, is to be a good steward of all I encounter.

Growing a Relationship With God

That includes home base as well.   I finish typing, and my second son comes in to visit. We talk.  It’s a real visit, the kind that happens only rarely, because he’s a runner and in graduate school, and so conversations always feel rushed, if not caffeinated and rushed.   It winds all over, but eventually, I ask him about his faith life. He laughs and gives that shy smile; he doesn’t believe, but he doesn’t quite know.

I point out that he runs even when the weather is bad, and he doesn’t feel it.  Growing a relationship with God involves times of stillness, times when we stare out and don’t feel it, the weather is bad.

He counters that you can’t get someone to love running just by taking them to run.  They’ll hate it, because their bodies hurt and it’s hard.   I point out, but if you know the good, often, you’re willing to try.  He didn’t ask me to run, but I think that’s his point.  I don’t want to, and so he and I are at the same spot, him not going deeper into God’s heart, and me not exercising.

Sigh.  I may have to start now.  He smiles.  I do too.  We both give each other something of a “Maybe.”

I’m reminded of staring out at the cosmos- of asking him to recognize if, in the midst of doing things, he finds himself wanting more, that more is God tapping on his very healthy heart, asking for a deeper relationship.   He listens. I can hear him making the same point about me being a better steward of my own body.

I promise not to nag, and he does too, but we will be issuing more invitations to each other, trying to push that maybe to a yes.   The Holy Spirit plays a long game, longer than the cosmos or half marathons he runs or the rosaries I pray.   Life, love, all of it is bigger than we tend to imagine for ourselves, and it’s a good thing that this is so, because left to our own devices, we might be content with maybe, and miss out on the healthy, happy, holy joy of a one day discovered yes.