Giving Up On Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving there are so many moving parts that it is impossible to nail down an exact plan.

Who’s coming when? We tried to come up with an exact schedule, and then gave up.

Will there be enough beds for everyone? We tried to come up with an exact schematic, and then gave up.

Enough cribs for the littles? We tried to figure it out exactly, and then gave up.

How many people to plan on for dinner? We tried to come up with an exact count, and then gave up.

All we know is that people we love will show up when they can, everyone will have some sort of place to lay their head, babies will be tucked in at night, and there will be plenty of food for everyone. Because we’ve given up on having it be exactly as we want it, we are free to give thanks that it is turning out exactly as it is.

Which might just be exactly the best way to do it.

The Days Of Our Lives

How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Annie Dillard

I have a love-hate relationship with time. I love that I have it and am grateful for every moment that is mine. I hate how hard it is to corral it, and to create a framework that enables me to spend those moments in meaningful ways.

There is no question that time is one of the most valuable resources entrusted to us, and like any other asset at our disposal, it is about so much more than mere management. It is about stewardship.

What will we do with the time we have?

It seems like a question worthy of some serious consideration, and today was my day to consider.

Taking different colored sticky notes, I created four categories, and the endeavors and activities that fall under each. Putting them up in separated columns on the wall, I began moving the pieces around to reflect my priorities. It wasn’t an exercise in creating a longterm plan. I was building a platform for creating a life.

When the picture felt complete, I began playing around with the calendar function shared on all of my devices. I use iCal exclusively for organizing my days, and so assigned a different color to each category so that my calendar visually mirrored the sticky notes on the wall.

While providing ample time for each category, I also built in margins. Times that provide a buffer and build in a sense of spaciousness. Looking at this newly emerging framework, I was reminded that just because there is open space on my calendar doesn’t mean I need to fill it. I began to get a glimpse of how knowing what matters will help me know what to do when, and make more clear what is mine to do. And, what is not. The further along in the process, the more I could see how I can better connect who I am at my core with how I live out in the world.

It’s still a work in progress, and hopefully will be until I run out of the moments that are mine to live. I can expect that for the rest of my days the unanticipated, good, bad, and otherwise, will show up and blow a carefully planned day out of the water, because time is meant to be fluid, not rigid.

Annie Dillard is right.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Which means, of course, that to be good stewards of our lives, we must first become good stewards of our days.

In case you’re wondering, my categories were: Molly; People; Vocation; Everything Else. In that order.

What are yours?

Paris Clock Photo: Tom Pierson

Time Traveling

The further I go in life, the more I am learning to trust that timing usually works out for the best. Suddenly an appointment gets cancelled or a meeting is called at the last minute, and I realize that the timing is better than originally planned. A calendar that was too full opens up, and days that were heavy with commitments lighten up. Conversely, when space opens up on my calendar it makes the room needed for the unexpected opportunity, the urgent need, or the last minute change.

When we hold on to our time with the death-grip of control, it becomes almost impossible to encounter what life brings our way with a sense of curiosity, grace, and adventure.

Instead of controlling time, I am practicing cooperating with it. It’s actually pretty fun…most of the time.

Photo by Stanislav Kondratiev from Pexels

Just Three Things

It’s been a crazy few weeks filled with good work, people I care about, unexpected adventures, and I wouldn’t change any of it. Being present for everything and everyone has meant letting other things and people slide until today. This morning I identified three things to accomplish by the end of the day. Just three. No more, no less.

• Organize and clear my desk.

• Get the mental clutter out of my head and down on paper.

• Write a blog post.

With an organized desk, an epic brain dump, and this blog completed, I’m ready for new adventures.

What three things could you accomplish that would set you free for new adventures?

The Sweet Sound

For almost everyone I know, this week has been more than a little challenging. As in, nothing, and I mean nothing, has gone according to plan.

In the midst of all of the apples from our upset carts, the challenge has been to find one more note of grace with which to encounter our circumstances and one another. Sometimes we did it well, other times not so much, but in the end, we’ve found our way together to the other side of this week that no one expected. From plummeting temperatures to icy roads, a sudden case of the flu to babies waking up too early, cancelled appointments and long anticipated plans delayed, grace has once again won the day.

Grace…how sweet the sound.

MARGINS

Today is my sister's birthday. This post is shared with gratitude for the best sister a girl could ask for. Thank you for teaching me about the need for margins. They make all the difference. And... Happy Birthday Margie!! Where would we all be without you?

The Need For Space

Imagine a book in which the pages have no margins, or a photo where the image fills the frame with no space in which to sit.  The empty space is as important as the rest.  For it is the emptiness in which the words fill the page, the art the canvas, the photo the wall.  Without it the power of the words and beauty of the image is lost. Or at best, diminished. In order to be fully there, they have need of some  space.  So do we.  We have need of margins in which our lives can reside.

And yet.

The urge to fill my time with doing feels relentless, the willingness to simply stop and rest like a foreign language. Doing means I am getting somewhere. Doesn’t it?  Or in the constant going am I spinning my wheels, and in the doing am I coming undone. The ancient text says there is a time to work and a time to rest.

And yet.

How to find time in the midst of days that seem too short, calendars too full, the very real needs that press upon us, and the list that never ends? Like most things, it starts with one thing. Getting up thirty minutes earlier so as to linger over that first sacred sip of coffee.  (A no brainer.) Arranging my days more carefully. (Effort required) Shutting the door for thirty minutes of solitude in between meetings. (Often impossible)  Or maybe just five. (Usually doable)  Saying ‘no’ just once. (Scary at first, f-ing liberating as skill develops)  Not answering the phone just because it rings. (That’s an option?) Disconnecting from the internet so as to log on to my inner one. (Learning to surf all over again)

In order to write our stories well, to make something lovely of the lives we have, space is required. Margins can be as expansive as a silent retreat or sabbatical, as far away as a remote island, as close as a walk around the block, or as brief as a deep breath.

Where might a bit of space exist that is there for the taking?

Photo by Tom Pierson

First posted in September 2014 on Matters That Matter