For about a month now I’ve had in my mind to do some real spring cleaning. There’s literally a pile of winter coats on the floor in my bedroom that I have a framework of plans to take to the attic (see what I did there?). Meanwhile outside, I have garden soil and plants still in their containers waiting to be planted. But where’s the time?

I did start the work a few weeks ago. I diligently washed down all the patio furniture, outdoor rugs, sofas, and pillows with soap and water. I wanted to enjoy the beautiful outdoor space we’d created now that the weather was staying reliably warm. But, as the aspirational projects began to pile up, my progress began to slow.

Now here I am swinging in one of those cone-like rocking chairs on my back patio surveying the unfinished projects. Raindrops are beginning to fall, and I have no energy to offer to any of these projects on this sleepy Sabbath morning.

Often in the past few weeks I’ve wondered, is something wrong with me? Why can’t I make progress? Why can’t I just buckle down and finish the tasks at hand?

This morning it dawned on me. There’s too much to do. I’ve overextended myself this time. And besides, I don’t want to push myself like this anymore.

I give myself some grace though. After all, it these ideas started from a good place. Who doesn’t want freshly planted flowers or a newly re-mulched lawn, or summer clothes rotated from the attic in replacement of winter clothes…

The issue isn’t want, it’s space and time.

One of my favorite passages in scripture is the story of Jesus visiting his good friends Mary and Martha. He’s a guest at their home and Martha found herself busy doing all the things, while Mary found herself doing one thing at the time. She knew what was most important to her, and she choose without reservation.

It’s instructive in our divided attention economy that even the act of choosing one thing to do can become overwhelming. Where do we begin? Even the question can invite analysis paralysis, and soon we find ourselves stuck, unable to start or keep going. Maybe that’s an opportunity in itself.

In an alternate world, I could have pushed through this morning to finish a few projects. I could have planted those flowers and put down the mulch and even started on a few of my attic or garage projects. But I also inevitably would have worn myself out physically. There are tradeoffs.

Instead, I’m sitting here swaying back and forth under the shade of my patio enjoying the light spring rain. It’s one of my favorite sounds. It seems like the choice was made for me this morning. Sometimes it’s the abundance of options that’s our biggest obstacle.

SDW3