Do you have this problem? Every summer I construct a beautiful list of all I hope to accomplish. The list bulges with practical tasks, personal goals, and artistic dreams.
The problem with my list? Much of it doesn’t get done. Some items never get started. So now August is waning. Must I once again face this annoying form of personal failure?
Not this year! I’ve decided to rethink the whole situation. First I’m going to redistribute some of the not-done items into new categories. The first division—the Too Late To category—goes like this:
By late August it is too late to
- plant spring peas
- do spring cleaning (phew)
- prepare for summer by purging outgrown summer clothes
- gather boxes of books to donate to the library’s summer reading program
The next category is tricky. I had to shove some things to fit, but the No Longer Relevant category can be helpful too.
By August’s end, it is no longer relevant to
- pair up summer shoes (where is that left sandal?)
- shift summer clothes to the front of the closet
- find last year’s pool noodles
See how nicely my list is getting trimmed?
Except . . . these aren’t the most important things on my “What-I-Didn’t-Get-Done-This-Summer” list, and probably not on yours either. Maybe you intended to take an on-line Italian course this summer. Or learn cross-stitching from your elderly aunt while she still sees well enough to teach you. Or remodel a bathroom. Or finish the manuscript for a book. We can’t so easily shove these items off on a cute list of irrelevant things, can we?
So, let’s try a different direction. First, no matter how much we “get done” in a lifetime, critical things will remain on our “to-do” lists at the end of our lives. We may enter this world with a clear agenda, but I doubt very seriously we leave it that way.
Proverbs and allegories may help us feel better about our incomplete lists. Remember that famous bit about “the best-laid plans of mice and men”? I don’t recommend Aesop’s Ant and the Grasshopper in this case. Instead, consider stories that herald the misbegotten character who creates something of beauty while others are too focused on pragmatic duties.
Along that line, consider the relevant Bible stories. Probably the best one instructs us that Martha was fully missing the point, multi-tasking in the kitchen while Mary garnered wisdom at Jesus’ feet.
Plus, sometimes we just aren’t meant to get things done. A passion that has guided our efforts throughout our lives may not lead us where we intended. Poor Moses didn’t get to enter the Promised Land. I think about that one often.
Finally, let’s construct a new type of list. I’m proposing the “Unexpected-Summer-Moments-that-We-Now-Cherish” list. What fits there? How about getting to know a neighbor better while walking your aging dog (who pauses to rest near her sidewalk)? List the sparkle in your granddaughter’s eyes when she entered the blazing stadium the night you decided to take her to her first minor-league baseball game. Don’t forget the joy of leafing through old photo albums with your grown son after they fell out of the closet you’d intended all summer to organize.
Watching, relishing, caring. These items do get checked off our list, if we stop and think about it. We can build a list dedicated to cherishing intangible things that give us needed inspiration, rest, and refreshment. A list with the subtitle “Unexpected Bringers of Joy.”
For that matter, not getting things done can have a positive side. Last night, I picked a book out of a half-filled box of “giveaways” only to find a particularly useful chapter on the history of Italian Renaissance Theater. The illustrations on those pages helped me sort out a thorny lecture for one of my fall tours.
Am I grasping at straws? Perhaps. But one thing is for sure: it really is too late to accomplish my summer list (or yours). So let’s stop beating ourselves up! Are you with me on this one?
Instead, let’s rejoice in the hope that springs eternal in the human breast. Let’s turn our thoughts to our “autumn” list and a new set of hopes and dreams. How fortunate we are to awaken each day to things we want to accomplish. Imagine the dismal state of awaking to a blank slate—a life of not caring, not wanting much of anything. Embrace that joyous commitment towards the things we are able to do, for these will continue to fill our hearts.
