Sometime...next year

I was driving my kids across town to meet friends a few days ago, and we became stuck in a colossal traffic jam. It was midmorning—definitely not “rush hour traffic”—and I didn’t see any signs of a car accident. Yet, we were inching along the highway at a snail’s pace. I started to see signs stating, “road work ahead,” but we were still a couple miles away from the work zone. What was wrong?

 Finally, I saw it: the highway was changing from two lanes to one lane. Far ahead of us, I could see the “State Law: Merge Now” sign with an arrow designating the merge point. And between that sign and our position in traffic was a long line of cars, all crammed into the right lane—while the left lane lay blissfully empty. Everyone was merging extremely early. Eventually, only one car was in front of ours. I watched, amused, as that car sat with its right turn signal on; waiting and waiting for an opening so it could join the slow procession of cars in the right lane. Even though an empty lane stretched in front of this car, it sat and prepared to merge exactly where it was.

 I used to do that exact thing.

If I knew that I eventually needed to change lanes because they were merging, I would do it right now—even if it meant sitting in a traffic jam while cars soared through the near-empty lane next to me. I wanted to make sure that I was taking care of things immediately and that I wouldn’t get stuck later on. In my mind, merging very early made sense—and I brought this approach into the rest of my life, too. 

I lived by the adage “never put off to tomorrow what you can do today;” I brought an urgency into my work and plans that was good at times but could also cause me unnecessary stress and overwhelm. Even if things weren’t urgent, an incomplete plan would cause my anxiety to build. What if it would never get done? What if I would get stuck in a project later on? What would other people think of me if I delayed something? I wanted to be in control of things and to ensure that they would be completed as I wanted, as soon as possible. I wanted other people to think well of me, to see how “on top of things” I was.

However, I’ve slowly begun to see the value in letting go of control; of not trying to micromanage every situation or task I encounter, and of not trying to control what other people may or may not think of me.  

I’ve started to realize that not everything on my “to do list” is urgent, and that even if I can do something right now, it doesn’t mean that I should do it right now. In fact, I’ve noticed that some things turn out better if I take time to think through a situation before addressing it.

In learning to let go of control and delay some tasks, I’ve also rediscovered the gift of rest. I used to think that I could only rest after completing everything on my “to do list,” and while I would experience rest, it usually followed a frantic push to get everything done before a self-imposed deadline. Yet, when I let myself rest before everything on the “to do list” is completed, I’m often able to more efficiently tackle those remaining tasks when I eventually get to them.

On at least three occasions last week, I told other people I would put something different off until next year. Each thing that I’m delaying is something that I could’ve tried to cram in before the final days of Advent. Just a few years ago, I probably would have tried to get all of these things done as soon as possible. But right now? If something is not a totally urgent, serious matter, I’ll do it in 2025.

It has been a wild year for many people, our family included. And if there’s one thing I’ve seen, one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: God is in control, and he will open all of the doors that need to be opened.

In these final moments leading to Christmas, my time is far better spent resting in God than trying to frantically finish every task on my list. God, our King and Creator, is taking care of everything.

“O King of all nations and keystone of the Church: come and save man, whom you formed from the dust!”-today’s O Antiphon