My schedule stays jam-packed most days. If I wanted to do more, I could the invitations are always there. But capacity is real, and I’ve learned to celebrate the nights and weekends when nothing is on the calendar. That stillness feels like a win.
A conversation with a retired leader brought this home. He told me that shortly after he stepped away from his role, his to-do list suddenly went quiet. He checked his email and found no tasks, no requests, no invitations. And underneath his words was a quiet lament — a longing to still be in the thick of things.
It reminded me of a lesser-known scripture I’ve always appreciated:
A reminder that God assigns both the work and the season — and neither lasts forever.
Today, I’m grateful that I can hold the tension between where I am, where I was, and where I’m going. This season of nonstop invitations won’t last forever. And one day, the outreach will slow down simply because I won’t occupy the same seat.
But right now, I can appreciate the paradox: What drains me a little in this stage of life is the very thing others long for in the next.
And that contrast is teaching me how to be present, grateful, and grounded.