September 12, 2023

By 9:00 am Monday morning I felt as if I had put in a full day. I had completed the transition from summer to fall decor, changing the quilt and the drapes in our bedroom, along with adding a pumpkin here, a pumpkin there. I vacuumed the bedroom, cleaned the first floor bathroom, and re-organized the tumble of pillows, rugs and table runners in the narrow pillow closet (Yes, I have a pillow closet.)

I started the fall decorating Saturday afternoon after Bruce lugged up the bins full of pumpkins and other fall accessories from the storage area in the lower level. The last few years I have slimmed my collection of fall stuff, but I don’t think anyone would notice!

Beginning in the kitchen, I emptied many of the green Depression glass storage containers and replaced them with vintage copper canisters, bowls, and covered pots for a warmer glow.

I made good progress, but by late afternoon I was worn out and needed to stop. How grateful I was supper was easy–a yummy leftover soup–another sign of fall. (Artichoke, spinach, chicken and brie soup) Following Sunday morning church and potluck lunch, I continued the process, hoping to pronounce a satisfied “Done.” before it was time to fix dinner.

That didn’t quite happen.

What used to take me a day and involved more changes now apparently takes me three. Well, not quite three full days–but effort spread over three days.

In my younger years I could and did press on, cleaning as I re-decorated, until I accomplished the desired look for the new season.

Now I need to pace myself. I need to take breaks–sit down and read the paper or a couple chapters in the current book. I need to plot my movements more and think more strategically about how many times to go up and down the steps. I need to stop earlier.

Instead of encouraging myself to do one more thing, I have to reassure myself that it is ok to go to bed with bins still stacked in the dining room and pillows piled on the garret floor. Tomorrow is another day.

My pace as a 75 year old is different from my pace as a 65 year old–even a 70 year old.

A History of Completion

I have a strong family history of working until IT is done–whatever IT is.

My family moved many times when I was a growing up, and the mode of operation was to unpack every box, hang every picture, fill every bookshelf, and stock every cupboard until it was done. DONE. My parents created home for our family quickly and efficiently, and then life in our new community began.

I adopted that habit, that way of being, and by and large it has served me well, except when it doesn’t.

At times that need to check something off the list, no matter how complicated or time-consuming, sets up an unrealistic expectation. That expectation does not take into account the reality of who I am now.

When I meet with spiritual direction clients, I sometimes ask them to consider “What is possible now?” That question requires pausing and taking a breath. Or in my case these last few days, a break.

Pausing and Pacing

Perhaps the day will come when I no longer choose to create seasonal looks in the house. Perhaps the day will come when the pillow closet is empty and I only have a few favorite items to mark a holiday. Perhaps the day will come when hometending is no longer a spiritual practice for me, a way to honor the ordinary, to experience the movement of God as the seasons of the year follow their usual cycle.

Right now, however, I still love this process, but I just need to pace myself.

An Invitation

Have you noticed any changes in yourself that require a different pace? I would love to know.