I have this giant, ever growing, list of creative projects. Some are ongoing things, like my "Essay Per Week" project this year and my "Biweekly Spoken Words" project (man is that one slipping through the cracks!) and my "Fail 12 Times This Year" project.
Others will require me (because of the way I work) to focus intensely on one at a time. Things like three different color books, a book of silly poems for kiddos, a short non-fiction book on singleness, a children's book series, a series of novels . . .
I have been in the process of rearranging my life a bit - making more time for these projects, because I believe it's where God is asking me to focus.
But sometimes I look at my list and realize how it keeps getting longer and I realize how I keep getting older and there is just no way I will keep up.
I realize some of these projects will require things I don't have, like money and certain collaborators.
I freak out a little. And I freeze up a lot. And I stress about which to do first. I worry about which ones will never get done.
I wonder about dying tomorrow and leaving them all undone and whether anyone will care, and I decide they probably won't, so why bother doing any of it in the first place. (My brain sometimes runs away to terribly overdramatic place.)
And then, thankfully, I realize I'm missing the point.
Thank God for too-long lists, for passions and goals which exceed my time and talents, for projects to fill three lifetimes.
Because if it was in my power to do it all, I would. I would set my goals and make my lists and check my boxes. I would travel from one checkpoint to the next, marking off each accomplishment and moving on to the next with only the finish line in mind.
Thank God for too-long lists because a short list, a list I could feasibly complete in my own power, would make me its slave. It would have me running around grasping at the wind.
Instead I am free, as intended. Free to follow. Free to abide. Free to be content in each day, whether in the middle of a project, deciding where to begin, or dreaming up something new.
Free to unclench my fists. I might have hours left on this earth or decades - I can be fine with either when I stop pretending I can control it and focus on falling more in love with the one who can.