“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.” ~Allen Saunders

Dear Universe,

The other day I found myself reminiscing, sifting through old travel photos.

I think maybe the limited scope of my scenery—thanks to this pandemic—is making me crave adventure and faraway lands more than I ever have.

Traveling has always been one of the things that fill me up most. (If you’ve followed me for a while, this comes as no shock as many of my travel adventures are documented here.) To not have any trips planned and to not know when I’ll ever hop back on a plane—or even a partake in a road trip at this point—makes me long for the carefree, easy-going days when booking a flight or packing a suitcase didn’t seem like a foreign concept.

Looking at the photos made me smile and laugh as memories from the past flashed by.

There was a trip David and I took to Barcelona, pictures of my best friend and I gallivanting around Italy, multiple trips to London (of course) and then, I stumbled upon snapshots of my latest trip to Egypt.

Instantly, all the emotions came flooding in. I felt my family’s love in group shot after group shot. I recalled the sounds of the infamous traffic in Cairo, the aroma of all my favorite foods, and the beat of the music I miss so much.

I remembered the road trip to northern shore of Egypt where the sand is as white and as soft as flour, and the sea is a bright, bright turquoise I’d never seen before and haven’t encountered since.

(No filter necessary.)

But there was this one picture that made me laugh harder than I had in a while.

Before I explain why, let me set it up with a little background. The first time I traveled to Egypt was in college. I was like a little puppy dog, filled with all the energy and excitement to see family I’d missed and family I’d never met. I could barely contain my sense of urgency in seeing all the sites—the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx being top on my list.

And so when the day finally came, I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

One of my uncles, who had graciously been showing me all the sites, and made me wait days to get there—as to build up my knowledge and anticipation—took me.

It was majestic. It was as breathtaking as one might imagine. It was the stuff postcards are made of. So I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I got my camera ready and prepared to take an obsessive amount of photos. I wanted to capture it all.

And that’s when my camera broke.

I’m not kidding.

There I was in the middle of the most soul-shifting place I’d ever been, a place I’d dreamt of my whole life, and had just spent an entire semester learning about, and my camera missed the memo and died.

My uncle took me to a tiny-tourist-trap shop that appeared like an oasis in the middle of the dessert. It happened to only sell—you guessed it—cameras, from high end to disposable, and I felt that maybe lady luck was with me, after all.

He explained to the shop owner that my camera broke and asked if he could fix it. The man examined it, but just as I feared, the camera could not be brought back to life.

So I did the next best thing. I bought a disposable camera. It would have to do. And that camera caught my very first camel ride; it captured my ear-to-ear grin as I posed in front of these sacred sites. It was a day I’ll never forget.

But the camera let me down. When I eventually got the photos back, they were dull, and blurry. The Great Pyramids looked much further than they actually were, making these majestic structures seem minuscule and underwhelming. It was the Great Disappointment.

And so, fast-forward thirteen years later to my second trip to Egypt. I knew a trip to the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx was mandatory. Redemption was coming.

This time I came prepared. I had three, fully charged cameras—my phone, a small digital camera, and my larger, professional one.

I harassed my cousin all day to take me, but it was an especially hot day, so he made me wait until later in the afternoon to finally make the trek.

As we got closer, my excitement was bubbling over. I triple checked the trio of cameras. I was ready. They were ready.

We got out of the car and walked up to the gate. My cousin chatted with a few employees. As they went back and forth in Arabic, my heart sank. It wasn’t good.

They had closed early. It was the holy month of Ramadan and because of the intense heat, there would be no more tourists allowed in. This enraged my cousin, who all day had seemed completely disinterested in taking me, but because he loves me and knew what this meant, he put up a fight. He argued how we weren’t tourists, how letting in the two of us, even for a little while would be no big deal. We would just run in, take some photos and run out.

My cousin did his damndest. I hadn’t seen him that fired up in a long while.

It didn’t work. This of course angered him even more and he stormed off to the car, sand swirling in his wake, me trailing behind him.

Inside the car, his rant continued. He sped off in a tizzy, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. The amount of profanities—in English and Arabic, and the complete absurdity of what he was saying made forget the sadness as my disappointment dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Sometimes when plans go amiss you simply need to curse, laugh or cry—or a healthy dose of all three.

So when I found this picture—that I took crammed against the gate—the closest I would get to the Pyramids on this trip (we were leaving the city that day to head to those turquoise waters) I had to laugh.

(And this one too.)

And it wasn’t because I could hear my cousin’s hysterical rant all over again—though I could.

It was because it made me think of one of my favorite quotes: “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him about your plans.”

It reminded me that we can prepare all we want, coordinate, arrange, envision and draft blueprints of our ideal future, but there will always be other factors we haven’t accounted for or considered—simply because we can’t possibly imagine everything that will come our way.

We can have plans a, b and c (and cameras 1, 2 and 3) and sometimes it doesn’t make a difference.

Cameras crap out the most inopportune time, gates close minutes before you arrive, and plans are derailed by pandemics.

Life will always throw you for a loop, no matter how much you visualized, hoped, prayed, and planned. Most of the time all you can do is laugh, curse or cry….

And roll with it. Trust there’s a reason behind the delay or the emphatic no or the twist of fate.

Sure. Have a plan, but expect the unexpected. Have a vision, but hold loosely to it. In general, it’s better not to hold any particular plan or outcome too firmly. When you do, you don’t leave room for it to be better than you’re imagining.

Yes, make commitments. Be a responsible person who shows up to those commitments with every intention of keeping them.

Yes, dream big. And work towards your dreams as if they’re already yours.

And yes. Make plans. Make grand ones.

But know sometimes life won’t have the same vision as you. Sometimes life has something completely different in store.

Life won’t always work on your calendar and your timing, but instead runs on divine timing.

Just when you think you know where you’re going, or feel like you finally arrived, life will throw you a surprise or two or three—some of these will be minor, but some will be of the most epic proportions.

Some will immediately thrill you and some will terrify you to your core, shaking the very foundation you were counting on to firmly carry you through all your days.

If you want to keep going, and not be paralyzed by holding onto how you think it should be, instead of how it could be or how it will be, you must be willing to shift, shimmy or shake in a new direction when life presents you with these moments you never planned for.

Because consider this. Maybe these moments aren’t there to throw you off track. Maybe they are there to get you back on.

Because your perspective and your ability to see both sides of your situation is the best gift you can give yourself.

You always have a choice in how you see what life is presenting you.

Problem or prayer answered?

Misfortune or miracle?

Impossible or inevitable?

Devastating or destiny?

Was I annoyed I missed the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx? Yes.

But I also felt so loved in that moment. To see my cousin fight for my dream, and get so fired up doing it, touched me more than I ever let on. And instead of being angry or wondering how I could get so unlucky both times, I laughed so hard I cried. I still remind my cousin of what he said that day in the car (too vulgar for me to type here). And the memory—one of my all-time favorites of us—brings me happiness. What a gift.

Maybe I’ll find my way back to the pyramids someday; in fact, I’m sure I will.

But I’m open to the reunion coming at the right time, when all the elements are finally working in my favor.

I’m open to the experience being exactly what it needs to be.

There are some things in life you can’t prepare for.

Instead, you just have to show up, with open arms, an open heart and an open mind. You have to be willing to accept however it turns out, knowing what’s meant for you will never miss you.

You have to remember that when you want something, the Universe only ever has three responses: yes, not now, or I have something better for you.

Things aren’t going wrong. They are going exactly right.

Sometimes you have to ditch all the plans you put in place and be open to the obstacles and challenges.

Trust that your inner compass knows the way.

Trust that the detours are leading you to your destiny.

Trust that it’s all working out to be Great—greater than you can imagine.

With Gratitude,