I really thought this space would be something other than what it is at this point, but I’m starting to see that I can be okay with the direction it is going. Maybe I can be more than okay with it.
With the death of my sweet mother-in-law, I see first hand how precious the written words she left behind are to loved ones. She didn’t leave many behind, but the way they poured over the few she did touched me deeply. I knew then that the purpose in my writing has been right in front of me all along.
Yesterday I spent a few hours trying to reclaim my schedule - the way I spend my time - by working to combine my beloved planner and a bullet journal I have started half a dozen times. At some point I just stopped and moved on to the next thing when my youngest daughter asked me to go run some errands. She didn’t want to interrupt me and said we could wait until I was done, but I knew it was the right thing to do because I was starting to feel really icky in the midst of trying to do something I have come to believe is a total waste of time and effort. This coming from someone who has clung relentlessly to her planner for most of her adult life.
Planning seemed an essential tool when raising a large family. Having my ginormous calendar on the wall near the phone saved my sanity during those very busy years. Although the kids are grown now, it’s still a busy household, but in very different ways. The calendar still hangs in the same place right next to the menu board - another life saving tool - and it still helps keep me sane. These days planning seems more like a distraction though. There surely is a reasonable place in between too much planning and none at all. Today, I’m just planning to do the next right thing.