A Waste of Time

Here’s the thing about Type 1 Enneagram people. We are ALL about list-making. It is physically impossible for us to sit down and relax until every last thing on our list is done. Don’t try to tell us it can wait. It can’t. You just don’t get it. If we wait, the list will haunt us in every idle thought for the rest of the day. My husband has been reminding me to eat every day for the last fifteen years because if he didn’t I would keep going until my blood sugar dropped to the point of fainting. (Okay, maybe not, but at the very least I would get especially irritable and become a living breathing impression of a Snickers commercial.) Now that I think about it, that’s probably why he suggests in such a gentle, “Don’t poke the bear” kind of manner. It’s self-preservation. And here I thought he was just lovingly concerned for my health. I should put “eat” on my list of to-do’s and eliminate the problem, but I don’t want to become one of those neurotic people that schedules every second of their day right down to their meals and bathroom breaks. That would nudge me just over the line into the obsessive-compulsive category and I refuse to be labeled (you know, besides being a self-proclaimed “Type A” and an Enneagram 1). The aging out of day planners and the ushering in of reminder apps have left me wondering how I ever accomplished ANYTHING without Siri. She’s my assistant; my unpaid, overworked, and heavily glorified intern. I haven’t used a sticky note or found a crumpled-up sheet of paper in the bottom of my purse for years thanks to her. She is my second brain, holding all my random thoughts, ideas, and late-night “Oh shoot, I almost forgot!” notions at well past midnight. I have a love-hate relationship with her though. I swear she sounds annoyed and almost, dare I say, bitchy, at times; like she’s somehow holding a grudge against me for all the ways I use and abuse her. Her volume is always loud, even if I have the switch turned to silent mode. In my heart, I truly believe it’s her passive-aggressive way of expressing her anger. She’s a computer program, volume is her only weapon. At least, I hope it is.

I get both teased and applauded for my organizational prowess, which makes sense because it truly is a blessing and a curse. My lists and my refusal to quit until a job is done are sometimes heavy burdens. One of my greatest weaknesses is becoming a slave to my “to-dos.” I can get sucked into the rabbit hole that is checkboxes all too easily. Just last week my husband had the morning off, so once we dropped the kids at school he went back to bed. I envied him. The blankets were begging me to snuggle underneath them for just one more hour. My list could wait. But I just couldn’t make myself do it. Instead, I paid bills, returned emails, meal planned, and did a load of laundry, all before bothering to get dressed or eat breakfast. My husband woke up ninety minutes later with no regrets. Technically I got far more done than he did that day, but I’m betting his choice benefited him more than mine did. The problem with being a list maker is the list is never really finished. For every three things I cross off, I add five more.

The flip side to having an extreme affinity for accomplishment is that I also have a strong affinity to rest. This is why I so rarely allow myself to sit down; I know if I settle in with a good book and a cup of coffee, I won’t get back up. I’m often asked how I have the time to be such an avid reader. I’ve read nearly fifty books this year already. I always answer by saying, “I find that if I completely ignore all my other responsibilities, I can get a lot of reading in.” It’s funny because it’s true. I’m a sucker for a good book, and I will read for hours at a time if I’m given the opportunity. My pajamas go on the minute I decide I’m done for the day. I find my spot on the couch next to my husband, (or a bowl of cookie dough, whichever is more readily available), and I don’t do ANYTHING else. It is rare for me to “take a break” and then pick right back up where I left off. I either finish or I quit, and when I quit, I quit hard. I either have to do all the things or nothing at all.

When we moved into our new house, I was tempted to make it my mission to unpack every single box, hang all the things on all the walls and get our house feeling like a home as soon as humanly possible. It would have been very easy for me to do exactly that. Siri nearly overheated I was adding things to my list so often. (I kid of course. That couldn’t happen, though she did sound more tired than usual). The accomplisher in me wanted nothing more than to work tirelessly for several straight weeks until our house had no projects left. I started to get invitations from new friends to join them for lunch, coffee, or an afternoon get-together. I wrestled with thoughts of, “Maybe once I feel more settled, once my list is shorter, I’ll make time for new friends.” God wouldn’t hear of it. In His infinite wisdom, He quieted my busy mind and my need to finish things and He reminded me of what makes a new place feel like home. It’s the relationships, not the empty boxes. So I said yes. I said yes to every single invitation, no matter how drawn I felt to spend entire days, “getting things done.” I may regret not getting to the grocery store some days, but I will never regret agreeing to meet a new friend. In just one month I have the makings of a community; a group of beautifully eclectic women who have embraced me into the folds of their already full lives. I have reveled in our commonalities and delighted in our differences. Is my house finished? No, it’s not. My to-do list is just as long as ever. Does it bother me? Yes, until I’m sitting in the hospitable warmth of a new relationship and I remember how vital it is to my emotional health that I stay engaged with people. My list will always be there. I’ll get to it when I can. In the meantime, I need to show up for myself by showing up for others. More importantly, I need to show up for Christ. I can’t very well invest in relationships with others if I’m not first investing in my relationship with Jesus.

Our senior pastor gave a powerful sermon this morning about the importance of making wise choices with our time. He encouraged us to ask ourselves two questions when we’re assessing what we should give our time to. First, how important is it? Second, how long will it last? To say I felt convicted would be an understatement. I pride myself on productivity. The number of things I’ve accomplished in a day is my barometer for success, and, (if I’m being completely honest), for worth. If I can’t point to tangible evidence of tasks I’ve accomplished, I feel ashamed and embarrassed for wasting my time. This pressure comes from no one but me. My husband will be the first one to genuinely say, “Good for you!” if I admit I sat and read my book all day or ordered pizza instead of making dinner. Finishing a book doesn’t boast as much as finishing the laundry though, and yet, one could argue it was equally important. For me, reading is an antidote to stress. When I get lost in the pages of a great novel none of life’s little problems can touch me. A well-written story is a welcome distraction from reality. Being an avid reader also broadens my knowledge, my vocabulary, and my perspective. Reading makes me a better writer, and writing is my ministry. So how important is that to-do list? Will those tasks matter all that much in the end? Maybe sticking my nose in a book from time to time is time well spent. Even more, it’s so important I spend time in the book, in the words that can give life to my very soul. It pains me to think how much time I’ve spent looking at a list instead of at Christ. I hate to admit I often choose good fiction over my Bible, and I spend more time talking with people than talking with Jesus. I needed to be reminded how easy it is to stray from the Lord by things as innocent as tasks from Siri, a coffee date, or a new library book.

I was shopping at Walmart with my children this afternoon when my six-year-old said he needed to use the restroom. I pointed him to the men’s room at the end of the aisle and told him to come straight back to me when he was done. While waiting I chatted with my daughter and consulted my shopping list. After what seemed like more than enough time, I decided to walk toward the bathroom to see why my son hadn’t returned. When I got to the end of the aisle I looked to my left and saw him wandering aimlessly, looking desperate. I called to him and a look of relief washed over his face. “Mom! I thought I lost you!” he wailed. After reassuring him he was safe, I asked him why he didn’t come straight back the way he came. “I got distracted,” he admitted. That’s how I am with God sometimes too. He doesn’t move. He is steadfast. It’s me who strays, and I do it one little step at a time. With every step my son took away from the bathroom today, he got further away from me. His attention was drawn elsewhere. He became so distracted that he didn’t even realize how far he’d wandered from me. That’s what my list-making, my “just one more thing,” attitude does. I get pulled away from what matters with every new task I add. I don’t prioritize God and yet He patiently waits for me at the end of the aisle, wondering when I’ll realize that nothing on my list will last. The satisfaction of crossing things off is only temporary. There are still things on the list tomorrow aren’t there? It doesn’t ever go away. What a waste of time.

I have always resonated with the story of Mary and Martha, the two sisters who had very different views on what mattered most in the company of Jesus. Mary welcomed Jesus into their home by sitting at His feet, hanging on His every word. Like me with a good book, she ignored all other responsibilities and allowed herself to become immersed in His presence. Martha, on the other hand, got straight to work on her list of hostess duties; preparing food, setting the table, and making every inch of their home presentable. Luke 10:40 says she was, “distracted with all her preparations.” She spent so much time readying her home for Jesus that she failed to see Jesus. She missed Him, and thereby lost out on a precious opportunity to know Him. I get Martha. I AM Martha. I love the way Jesus gently admonishes her. “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things, but only one thing is necessary,” (Luke 10:41). My accomplishments won’t matter in the end; they won’t reconcile me before the Lord when I take my final breath. How willing was I to put down my list and just listen to God? How often did I sit at the feet of my Savior, relishing His words and basking in His presence? How loudly and frequently did I proclaim His saving grace over my life? How many people did I share His love with? Those are the things that count at the end of the day. Those are the things that determine my value. All else is a waste of time.