I moped around yesterday reading an old journal, having to look at the cover to see if I wrote it last week, last year, or last century. Adjust truck carburetor. Write customer info form and more of the same old stuff. Twenty years of writing To Do lists, writing down the same stuff as I do today, and I still struggle to get it done. Am I that messy? Looking askance, I straightened my toga like a Roman soldier and promised to gird myself and be more disciplined in doing, forgetting the wise words of Wayne Dyer: “Remember,” he said, “you are a human being. Not a human doing.” Most of the time I forget.

I sat to read a few chapters of Tobit this morning, too, and a few things came clear.

We always have the little things stacked on our shelves. Hundreds of things. We always have the truck to work on, groceries to buy, and things to paint. Always.

The journal is twenty years old. Twenty years. What have I done in twenty years to offset this daily drudgery? I married Mal. We have twin girls. I changed careers and moved across the country. Mal works on her Masters. I write again and have a few thousand readers. I spent a couple weeks on life support and was reminded of what are the big things are.

It’s a good life.