Finding Joy in the Uncertain Future (As a Planner)

If you opened my Notes app right now, you’d find about 50 pages — both current and deleted — filled with schedules and to-do lists I made for random off days. Most of them were created simply to visualize what the next day might look like. You’d also see detailed itineraries I made for visitors, with time-stamped activities we might get to — even if it was overly ambitious. Oh, and God forbid we take a detour from the plan… Lol.

Sometimes, I wish I weren’t quite like this in every area of life. But the truth is, I’m a planner, through and through. One look at my mom’s jam-packed planner, and you’d instantly know where I got it from. Having structure and clarity, especially in the pockets of life where it feels possible, genuinely brings me joy. And I think many of you can relate — maybe not to the extreme — but to the simple human desire to know what’s ahead.

This habit started early. I remember in middle school, when I knew I’d have to confront a friend (which terrified me as someone who sprints from conflict), I would spend days preparing what I’d say. Even though, come game time, my nerves would probably throw half of it out the window. Or when I struggled to make kind friends as a kid, I’d plan outings with my mom weeks in advance, just to have something stable to hold onto when everything else felt fleeting.

Now, as an adult, this same planner instinct shows up in new ways. I’ll watch nurse practitioner vlogs on TikTok during my downtime. I’ll browse the suburbs of Georgia online, even though I have no plans on moving anytime soon. I’ll pray (and pray again) for clarity about things that are still far off. As a Christian, I know God is in every detail — both now and in the future. He is the author of our stories! But you and I both know, fully trusting Him when the timeline is unclear is the hard part, especially when the desire to fill in the blanks yourself creeps in among a lack of patience for His answers.

In our 20s, I honestly believe we’re further from having control over the future than in any other decade of life. Maybe that’s just my bias talking, but there is so little “figured out” at this age (whatever that even means). But really, we’ve only just dipped our toes into careers we’re hoping to love and succeed in. There’s no clear path like there was in school — no step-by-step syllabus. It’s murky. And full of change.

Change is so inevitable at this time – in my own life, I can see it in how the strength of the children I get to care for as a nurse is reshaping my entire perspective on life – life itself can even be the thing to change in an instant. I can see it in the way that nearly every close friend of mine is living in entirely different seasons, when we all seemed to be walking in sync just 12 months ago.

I have this pink sparkly journal that was gifted to me as a sophomore in high school, and I have been writing in it since. It holds prayer requests, anxieties, life updates, reminders to my future self – all of it. On November 12th of 2023, as a first-semester Senior in college, I sat in my bed and listed out all my worries concerning the future at the time. Line after line, it reads:

“Where the heck will I live lol.

What kind of nurse will I be?

Will I be near family?

Will I have friends move with me?

Etc Etc Etc.”

Those are the moments I wish I could talk to my past self. I’d say:

Hey B –

You ended up living in the cutest area of Atlanta, Georgia, in a little apartment with your best friend from home, Ash, who basically moved her life to the south to experience her first year out of college with you. You got your dream job as a Pediatric Hematology/Oncology Nurse at CHOA. People are going to look at you with a lot of sadness in their eyes when you tell them this, but don’t waver – You’re right where God wants you. You’re not quite near your mom, dad, and brother in California, but you’ll be 25 minutes away from your sweet aunt, uncle, and cousin, and it’s everything you didn’t know you needed. And though not many friends moved with you to Georgia, the ones who did are so special, and wait ‘til you see how cool the girls you get to work with are.

If you look back on your own life, I’m sure you can think of decisions that once felt enormous but eventually worked out (whether they followed your plan or not). That’s the thing — my questions did get answered, but not without some twists and turns. There were missed opportunities, rejections, and days filled with doubt.

But this current version of my “future” revealed itself with a kind of beauty I never could’ve scheduled or scripted.

Worrying about the future is normal, and even sometimes a good thing. But worrying about the future never made it better, and it’s definitely never helped the present.

I wrote this post for anyone else whose mind runs anxious loops over the unknown — the unplanned — the future you can’t even start a new Notes page for. This is my reminder to you (and to me):

I am learning to find the joy in the not knowing. Instead of resting in the joy we absorb when knowing what the next page reads, let’s embrace the weird, beautiful discomfort that is found in the unrevealed future that might just hold the best chapters of our lives.

We were never meant to carry the weight of what is truthfully so far out of our hands.

People say, “Life moves fast,” and that phrase has never felt more true than it has in the last four years. Our job during this life on Earth isn’t to predict the future – it’s to stay grounded in the present. To count our blessings – both the easy and the hard. To take the passenger seat on this ride.

Because maybe the moment we planners stop trying to orchestrate every detail is the moment everything changes. We may see that all that we ever lost sleep over has been forgotten, and all that we have prayed for is right before our eyes.