My last couple of posts could be taken as my advocating being lazy or getting by with as little as possible. This is not the case.
I’ve been talking about normal limits. But setting those limits in stone is a bad idea. If someone I live with needs a ride to Urgent Care on my Sabbath, of course, I’m going to do it. If a project needs to be done before snow, I will work far harder and more hours than I usually would to get it done. If a friend calls and says he has to move this Saturday and desperately needs help, I’m there. I’m more than willing to violate most of my limits on occasion. This is especially true when the reason it helping someone. And, because my limits mean I have margin, I am often able to push beyond my limits without significant harm to myself, my schedule, or my relationship with my wonderful wife.
This last year my new limits were a huge help. We had a lot of things come up. I had a whole lot of doctor visits much of the year and our daughter-in-law’s health issues meant we were needed to help her and to help with our grandkids. Because I had margin to start with, and because I cut back in other areas to accommodate the extra time on those things, I got through the year with burning out physically or mentally. If this had happened a decade ago, based on my the limits I had at the time, the result would not have been pretty!
I pray this and the previous two posts give you something to think about as you set goals and limits for 2021.
Image Credit: © Yury Zap | stock.adobe.com
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I love that you balanced the other posts with this one because for some reason they weren’t resonating with me until you did. This post somehow made the others more undestandable for me.
Interesting serenipity…Barb sai dlast night that my pushing past limits is important to those around us, that I set an example. I didn’t really want to hear this, because the responsibility’s big, and the door to rest (and a measure of sanity) is thus firmly closed.
Ah, well. Never really wanted to live forever, anyway. And maybe the best of us is supposed to be reserved for others.
My life has to be epic,
and I must die young,
a never-grown-up septic
for those I walk among.
They call me inspiration,
make ’em strive for better,
and all my protestation
doesn’t really matter
for blokes see what they want to see,
and seeing makes it real,
even if it isn’t me,
so cobber, here’s the deal:
I will give my bloody all;
just pick me up, please, when I fall.