Who's drivin' this bus anyway?!

I've been told that I can be a little obsessive compulsive,(I like the word "driven") a wee bit of a perfectionist,( I prefer to say "detail oriented") and that I am sometimes..er..inflexible (I like to use the more positive word, "focused") Now, mostly this just my kids that say these things. Okay, my kids and my friends. Alright then, my kids, my friends and my Mom. Whatever.    
       We've all heard the saying, "when God closes a door he opens a window".  I've been struggling lately with what God's plans are for me and for my not-so-ordinary-life. Without going into all of the boring details,I have been in a limbo-like holding pattern for quite a while now (9 weeks and 3 days, but I'm not counting) and I got a phone call this morning that put an end to my waiting, at least for the time being. (or the next nine to twelve months, which ever comes sooner) It was not the holding-pattern ending I was planning for.
     What the...?! How could this be? I was so sure of what the outcome would be (and even when it would be) that I currently have a garage half full of moving boxes, and I had designed invites for a packing party. (OK, the part about me being obsessive may be accurate) But, that was just me being proactive and walking in faith, wasn't it? (I could have sworn it was...)       I know I'm not the one driving the bus, I'm just a passenger. I get it. Really. (Well, for the most part I get it. I'm "focused" remember?) I am not the one in charge, I need to ask for guidance; to be still, and  listen, and watch for signs, but I still have that knee jerk reaction of "oh-no-I-am-quite-sure-that's-not-the-plan-He-has-in-mind-for-me" attitude when an answer seems to appear that isn't what I had been planning for.  After I had a good long one and a half minute cry at my desk with the door closed, I decided to stop the pity party right then and there and do my best to bloom where I am planted, and "live where I live" as the card designer likes to say. I tell ya, this let go- let God stuff is sometimes so much harder than it sounds. I wiped off what was left of my mascara, reminded myself who was really driving the bus, and took my seat near the big newly opened window.