A HOPEFUL HEART ◽ YOU
Leave a Little Room
by Christina Oberon
There is something I have decided I want more of in my life. Nothing. Or, more specifically, a day with nothing to do.
I recently told my husband that I would love for us to start protecting at least one day a month where there is simply nothing on the calendar. No appointments, commitments or places we have promised to be. No plans for how we are going to spend our “free” time. Just a day that belongs to us. It sounds so simple, but I honestly can't remember the last time a day like that existed.
As adults, there is almost always something we could be doing. There are errands, appointments, work, school, kids’ activities, birthdays, family obligations and everything else that makes up a full life. An empty square on the calendar can quickly begin to look like an opportunity to put something there, so we do. And none of those things are bad. I love making memories, traveling, celebrating people and having things to look forward to.
But I also love rest and that comes from knowing nobody has to be anywhere. It eases stress waking up and realizing the day has not already been decided for you.
Maybe we sleep in, make a slow breakfast and take the dog for a walk. Maybe we decide at noon that we want to go somewhere. Maybe we stay home. Or maybe absolutely nothing noteworthy happens, and that is the point. I have become so accustomed to measuring my days by what I accomplished that doing "nothing" can almost feel irresponsible. If there is open time, shouldn’t I use it? Catch up on something? Make the most of it? But I am starting to wonder if making the most of a day always has to mean filling it.
Sometimes having nowhere to be gives life a little room to unfold on its own. There is time for a conversation that lasts longer than expected, sitting outside because the weather feels too beautiful to go back inside, or my son suddenly deciding he has something he wants to tell me. There is room to read another chapter, pray, be creative, change my mind, be spontaneous or simply be present enough to notice my own life. Some of my favorite memories were never written on a calendar. They happened in the spaces between, and I am craving those spaces these days.
Our calendars can change in an instant. Seasons come and go, children grow, people we love get older and things we assume will always be there sometimes aren’t. I still believe in making plans and having things to look forward to, but I don’t want to become so busy planning life that I forget to leave room for actually living it.
With as busy as life can be, an obligation-free day every month may not always be realistic. Maybe sometimes it is an afternoon, a Sunday morning or even a few hours intentionally left without plans. Maybe it is simply resisting the urge to fill every opening that appears on the calendar and allowing something to stay open just because it can.
I want to start looking at an empty day on the calendar a little differently. Instead of seeing a blank space and immediately wondering what I can put there, I want to occasionally circle it and protect it. Nothing to do. Nowhere we have to be. No expectation that something memorable needs to happen. Just a little room for rest, for God, to watch a sunset, for spontaneity and for the ordinary moments. A little room feels like what I need.