It was a chilly morning in mid-December and I was mentally processing my to-do list during my drive to work like always. It included the usual run-down of the day’s meetings and project deadlines, but also much more than what appeared on my Outlook calendar.
I could feel my anxiety mounting as I remembered the other 67,000 things it felt like I needed to accomplish before noon:
- Stop at the post-office to overnight gifts to my nieces and nephews that have been sitting in my car for 2 weeks. (Why do I spend more on 2-day postage than the costs of the gifts? Every. Single. Year.)
- Call our insurance company to debate a claim denial from a recent car vs. garage door incident from our newly-driver’s-permit-enabled youngest son.
- Contact the yearbook ad people to beg for any remaining senior year farewell ad spots because I missed the deadline.
- Find an appliance repairman to come fix our broken washing machine which has resulted in 2 weeks of dirty laundry piling up in the kitchen.
My heart was pounding beyond the effects of the quadruple-venti-soy mocha from Starbucks I was sipping, and I started to feel light-headed. I pulled my car to the side of the road, closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and reached out to God for help.
But within an instant, I was awash with guilt.
