Ever get overwhelmed by your to do list and rant and rave about it? Yeah, me, too. But, here’s a different way of looking at it.
Years ago when we first got cable, my kids discovered the Disney program, Phineas and Ferb. It quickly became a favorite for the whole family, us parents included. The kids were all under 12, the prime target age for the show, and were all into singing the theme song or quoting lines from their favorite episodes. A popular refrain in our home, usually from FishPapa was “I know what we’re going to do today, Ferb.”
As a mom who homeschools and works at home, I often pine for those days when there was “nothing to do” and I had to find something to do. There is NEVER nothing to do!
When did this happen, anyway? I guess it must have been college when there was always something I could or should be doing. I’m not the only one, right?
Saturday morning, after breakfast was served and kids had done kitchen jobs, I escaped to my room for some journaling and quiet time as well as some planning for the day. As I contemplated the 12 hours between that moment and bedtime — I mapped it all out on a piece of paper because I’m a visual person — I found that there really weren’t enough hours in my day.
At least not for the things that needed doing or the things that I thought were valuable and important for the Saturday in question:
- prep lunch
- clean out fridge
- plan meals for the week
- shop for missing items
- hockey game
- make pizza dough
- clean off my desk
- pizza and movie night
- write posts for the week
- do some freezer cooking
Clearly, these were all good things, good things that weren’t going to fit into the space of 12 hours. Not without some very clever physical and mental gymnastics. And honestly? I’m getting too old for all that.
My typical MO is to feel frustrated that I can’t do it all, to bemoan the fact that there is just soooooo much to do.
But in that glorious moment, God gave me thankfulness. Thankfulness for all these good choices. The things on my list are all things that I truly enjoy.(Even the messy desk and cluttered refrigerator are good choices because their end result is beautiful and brings me joy.)
I can’t say that the Pollyanna moment came from some stroke of brilliance on my part or that I will always feel this way every time I am overwhelmed by what’s on my plate. At least for this week, my prayer then was/is simple:
Thank you, Lord, for all the good things that I can choose from today. Help me to choose wisely.
Unlike Phineas and Ferb, I don’t know on any given day what I’m going to do, as in what I’ll actually accomplish. I can’t predict whether or not the day — or my children — will obey. I may start out with a great list, but inevitably life happens.
So, for this week, I’m choosing to be thankful, thankful that there are so many good things on my plate to do and not to do, as the case may be.