There are only so many hours in a day.
Of course you know that.
All too well at times.
And there are two ways to make that statement.
With acceptance and grace, or with the belief that you let yourself down. Again.
I prefer to say it with a shoulder shrug and an "Eh, so be it," ease rather than a furrowed brow as I race around the house or garden as the sun goes down, trying to squeeze in just one. More. Task.
(Although I'll admit to being there at times, too.)
I can't do it all.
Neither can you.
And I'm not waving the white flag of surrender to all that is left undone. Rather I'm embracing what I have accomplished and forgiving the rest.
Yesterday we picked apples from a nearby organic orchard. On a whim. We went there for cider and came home with bushels of seconds.
And the next thing I knew I was processing sauce long after bedtime.
And as I lifted the last batch out of the water and headed upstairs to bed, I saw the bushel and a half of apples left to process.
There was the crossroad.
And we all stand there dozens of time each day.
Which path would I choose?
Instead of work-left-undone, I saw abundance. Nourishment. A fine day at the orchard with my kids, climbing trees. I saw 25 pints of apple sauce for winter. I saw September.
Because how we perceive this day is this day.
In truth I've abandoned my green beans, luscious as they are. I have more than my garden's share of tomatoes dropped off the vine and rotting in the garden. And just yesterday I realized that I missed elderberry season all together.
Fail. Fail. Fail.
But I've been laughing and reading books to my kids. Working hard on my business. Digging potatoes, seeding the pasture, and filling the freezer.
Win! Win! Win!
So to hell with what I haven't done. I've done plenty.
Even if that list contains only, "Woke to see another day."
What I've done is enough.
Who I am is enough.
And yes, my friend, the same is true for you.