This is, by far, one of my most favorite times of year. The start line of a brand new calendar. Filled with more hope and more possibility. There’s more goals I want to accomplish and dreams I want to see unfold.
And this morning it just kind of hit me. What if one of the things I need “most” in my quest for “more” is actually “less?” Having just come through the holiday season, I’ve seen “more“ show up in countless ways. More toys than we have space for in our house. More stuff than I have room to pack in my suitcase. More food at the table than I would ever be able to eat. More lists of things I need to do than I’d ever have the time to accomplish. And the days and weeks and months roll on and there’s another brand of more that starts to take root. More fear than faith. More doubts than confidence. And more busy doing than simply being a d enjoying. More working than pausing. And I start to feel like the more I attempt to do, the less I actually get done. I’m distracted at every turn and I start believing the lie that “I’m not enough.”
It’s a cycle I’ve seen play out over and over again in my life. So this year, my plan is different. I’m going to ask myself a new set of questions. Where can I start trimming back? In my diet? My cupboards? My closets? My finances? My to do list? My calendar? My packing? And so on. Because I have this strong sense that “less” really is “more.” Stuff seems to be busting out of the seams in every aspect of my life. And I have a feeling it’s distracting me from my purpose and taking up valuable space in both my head and my heart. I try to manage it, organize it, move it, and reorganize it. And it makes me tired just thinking about all of it.
So for 2018 what if all I need is less?
Less doing, more being.
Less stuff, more freedom.
Less judging, more loving.
Less wishing for something in the future, more living in the present moment.
Less fear, more faith.
Less of me, more of God.
What if I discover that in needing less, I actually have more? I can’t wait to see what 2018 has in store.
