To Do Lists

Seasons change — from spring to summer, from fall to winter…

Each time has its own beauty; I am grateful to live in a place where all four seasons are distinct. (Ask me that in late February, and I might not be so grateful…)

Seasons of life change too; and sometimes it isn’t so easy to navigate through those changes. Even when they are thoughtfully planned with prayers and guidance from The Lord, they are not always pain-free.

It was difficult for me to embrace the stress and anxiety that came from those changes; sometimes it was impossible to keep my own timeline from ticking away inside my brain. Mental to-do lists have flashed across my closed eyes for months now; real to-do lists were on my phone, on sticky notes, scrawled on the backs of envelopes…

The constant pressure of not enough time left me crabby, weary, and unfocused. Double that for Mr. H. C.

So it was with great joy that I deleted the last to-do list from my phone last week.

The sign is finally in the yard.

We are weary, yet hopeful, trying to ignore the stories of people having their house on the market for five years.

We are grateful that it is finally listed, yet wistful, for not only is it a beautiful house, it was a good home, full of living and dying, laughter and tears, love and memories.

And we want nice people to buy it and love it as we did.

Who wants to buy this lovely house?

Only nice people need apply.

There’s been much chaos in my life lately….

Dashing between two houses, fixing up one to live in, fixing up one to sell, both of us working jobs, and trying to balance everything? I am failing BIG TIME!

We went into this with our eyes wide open; we knew it would be hard and busy and no downtime.

After two years? I’m tired. Mr. H. C. is tired. We have iron-poor blood. Burnout with a capital B; Exhaustion with a capital E. I just want to sleep for three weeks straight.

In about three weeks the job that I have loved for nine years will be ended, our city house will be on the market (or soon will be) and we will be gently moving all summer (or until the house sells) to this unfinished cottage.

(Please understand: I am not whining or complaining. I still love the cottage. I can’t wait to get here–I just want to wimp out about the rest of the work we have to do!)

To Do List

Just looking at this ToDoList makes me tired. (You might notice that Write Blog Post is not on the ToDoList.) And this is only my list; it doesn’t begin to cover Mr. H.C.’s list.

Lately we’ve only been at the cottage on Sundays. There’s no time to do projects, so it has been a day of rest for me. (Not for Mr. H.C. — he has to get the tractor out and mow because the grass is growing like it’s spring or something…)

At first I fought it and called it forced rest. But today I am sitting on the porch with my glass of cider, heeding these rules:

We need this weekly rest. God knew it and named it — Sabbath rest. It is restful to sit here and look at the sky and the trees and listen to the bird song and the trill of a woodpecker. Today it’s a little chilly, so I have a blanket and a kitty for warmth. Yes, there is a breeze.

There’s a ton of stuff I have to do. I see my ToDoList when I close my eyes. I hear the world’s voice in my worries: If you don’t get that house on the market by June, it will never sell. And then what will you do? You need to be more efficient with your time. Etc. Etc.

And then sometimes, when I’m listening, I hear the still, small voice: Peace my child. I am in control. Give me your worries and submit to my time.

That’s what a Sabbath rest is for, and it is why God ordained it. He knew we would never stop working, shopping, tending, doing, (add your verb here) long enough to listen for His voice.

And so for today, I am efficiently using my time — resting and listening and banishing any visions of a ToDoList that might flutter across my eyes.