"Nothing is engraved in stone," I've written again and again. "Respond to what's actually happening, not what you think should be happening."

So…It turns out that following my own advice is a whole lot harder than giving it.

If you're like me, you created plans years ago. You made them back when you were younger, fitter, and healthier. Maybe you were more active, spent more time outdoors, and did Ironman Triathlons on a whim. Perhaps you had better vision and hearing. It could be that you were more resilient in the face of stress. Maybe you didn't have other folks depending on you then, and you do now. Maybe you had folks to depend on then, but you don't now.

The very nature of life is that it changes. Our responsibility is to adapt when it does.

The plan you had then worked for who you were then. But maybe it doesn't now. Maybe you need to take a good hard look at your situation and adapt accordingly.

Know when it's time to change your survival plan.
You wouldn't tell somebody to remain in a house that was becoming unsafe simply because they'd spent years stocking it to the rafters and turning it into the perfect survival retreat.

Sometimes circumstances change. A location becomes unsuitable. Resources become scarce. Your physical abilities change. So many different things can happen to our well-laid plans. There's an old Yiddish proverb that goes, "Der mentsh trakht un got lakht."

The translation?

Man plans. God laughs.

Ain't that the truth? Sometimes, the smartest preparedness decision might be to leave your carefully constructed Plan A behind.

This has been a recurring theme for me, and the music has only sped up over the past few years as my health went to heck in a handbasket.

I always thought I'd end up living in a place like Grace, in The Widow in the Woods. It would be up in the mountains, amidst the trees, with a bubbling mountain stream and wind chimes as a soundtrack. I would live in an adorable little home you could only find if you knew exactly where to look for it. I would be surrounded by books, animals, and gardens. There would be a delightful greenhouse apothecary where I concocted mysterious things. My pretty kitchen would have herbs drying in the windows and home-canned goods lining my pantry shelves.

But, here I am, not even 60 years old, and already pretty dadgum gimpy with serious health issues. This was not in my plan. In my plan I would still be rambling around Europe having adventures and seeing the world, only to retire to that home in another ten years or fifteen years or so.