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"If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.

-- Woody Allen

It's the first week of January, and some of us have already broken the resolutions we made so earnestly just before midnight on New Year's Eve. We already feel disheartened. But when the grand things we resolve seem unattainable, we sometimes revert to a more sensible course: We make plans.

Plans for the future are a bit like resolutions, in that they are repositories of hope. Certainly no one plans to make a mess of life. Plans are more concrete than dreams or even ambitions. They are more likely to be based on the reality of one's gifts and options: We may dream of being rich, but we plan to get a degree. The longer we age, however, the more we understand that the plans we made while young often have little bearing on our actual experiences.

Real-life examples, solicited from friends, follow.

One friend definitely did not plan to be twice widowed by the age of 37. But at 50, she is philosophical: "While my life has not in any way, shape, or form followed the path I envisioned, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have a good man who loves me, a son who constantly amazes me, family and friends who are beyond precious, and work that is fulfilling. What more could a girl want?"

Plans can be diverted by outside forces: "When I was in high school," says a friend, "I decided that I wanted to go to the only leprosarium in the U.S., and help people. But before I finished college, they found a cure for leprosy and closed the leprosarium." She has since found alternate ways to help others, in her career and as a tireless volunteer.

"As a 42-year-old college student," offers another, "I definitely know my plans took a sharp left turn somewhere. I believe plans are just an outline for our lives and there is someone out there who has more concrete plans for the direction we are supposed to take . . . Sometimes we think we know what is best for ourselves, but then we have to give into the higher power and ultimately go with what is happening. If my plans had come through, I wouldn't have the kids I do nor the life I have now."

A wise friend says, "I am not sure how many people set off in one direction and maintain it, but I am willing to bet that it is less than 1/3. In my humble opinion, it shows how versatile and adaptable the human spirit is. Our vision is probably one of a quality of life and whenever possible we select a vocation that gives us that quality. I have always maintained that it is better to work a job that we are happy with, even though it may not be the most lucrative. We are willing to do surprising things to maintain the vision. Of course, it is easier to make these types of decisions when we are younger and less constrained by family responsibilities."

And another, older and wiser, ventures somber advice, "The bottom line is: Do almost everything exactly the opposite of the choices I have made over the last twenty years ... So many opportunities squandered by immature choices." (He is actually a wonderful role model of love and loyalty in adversity.)

Our plans can be thwarted by illness, as a dear retired friend attests. "My wife and I went through some tough times that would have destroyed most marriages. We decided to stay together, learning from our mistakes, and really became one with each other as a result. Our golden years were great for a long time until the most insidious disease took over her life. We have been living with Alzheimer's for eleven years. The glorious years together still live in my memory but not in my wife's memory."

Death can destroy our plans. A friend who lost her mother in a car crash caused by a drugged driver shares from her heart: "I was never the type to daydream of my wedding when I was young. Never had a timeline for when I would marry, have kids, etc. It was when I was engaged, I imagined having the wedding up in Napa at a winery. That is actually what my mom was doing . . . scouting out locations the morning she died. They were in and out of the car so much, she stopped putting the seatbelt on . . . So, I guess you can say my plans went awry. The number one reason my husband and I ended up getting married in Fiji was because we thought a more formal affair would have just intensified the fact that my mom was missing from the wedding party."

"The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men / Gang aft agley," wrote the poet Robert Burns after upending a mouse nest while plowing a field, lines translated as "The best laid plans of mice and men / oft go astray." Well, they do. But my husband, my very best friend, concludes, "As I'm living my life, I feel like the path I'm navigating is convoluted, circuitous, winding crazily, jumbled. But when I look back on where I came from, the path behind me is absolutely straight. I see that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, and God knew I was going to get here all along."

We make our plans, and then we play it by ear. Although perhaps laughing, somehow God sticks with us, every step of the way.

These are the opinions of Valerie Schultz, not necessarily those of The Californian. Email her at vschultz22@gmail.com