I’m sure I’m not alone in being frequently overwhelmed by my to-do list. Or rather, lists. Sometimes it seems I’m wearing so many hats that I might as well be Bartholomew Cubbins.

Many of us could probably do with less on our plates, but for the purpose of this article, I’d actually like to focus on what a blessing busy-ness can be. While I’ve had a few near panic attacks of late, I have also had a positive realization that I hope might be helpful to some of you. That realization is this:

Having things to do is a blessing. They are signs that I’m really living.

Sometimes I feel as though I am desperately waiting for the next chance to rest. Rest is good. The Lord built rest into the very fabric of creation, so we know that it’s divinely recommended. But is rest the point of living? No. The point of living is to be useful. Yes, we can (and often do) take on too much. But if we strike some kind of balance between rest and busy-ness, then having chock full days of errands and chores can truly be a blessing. They are a sign that we are deeply alive, humming with uses. 

We read a lot of children’s books in our house. One of my longstanding favorites is “The Pout-Pout Fish” by Deborah Diesen. The Pout-Pout Fish follows the tale (or should I say “tail”) of an Eeyore-esque fish with big pouty lips. As he gloomily encounters his underwater friends, they each urge him to try being a little more pleasant. But the Pout-Pout Fish is stuffed to the gills with excuses for why he is incapable of change:

“I hear what you’re saying, but it’s just the way I am.”
“I’d like to be more friendly, but it isn’t up to me.”
“But I haven’t any choice. Take a look and you’ll see why.”
“With a mouth like mine, I am destined to be glum.”

He follows each of these excuses with the same refrain:

“I’m a pout-pout fish
With a pout-pout face,
So I spread the dreary-wearies
All over the place.
Blub 
Bluuub
Bluuuuuuub”

Poor Mr. Fish. He is stuck believing that just because he looks pouty, his personality has to match. I can’t help but think how often human beings wind up stuck in a similar merry-go-round of melancholy. 

“Then the blind and the lame came to Him in the temple, and He healed them. But when the chief priests and scribes saw the wonderful things that He did, and the children crying out in the temple and saying, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” they were indignant and said to Him, “Do You hear what these are saying?”
And Jesus said to them, “Yes. Have you never read,

‘Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants
You have perfected praise’?”
Matthew 21: 14-16

This part of the Palm Sunday story has always filled me with joy. I love the idea that little children are the paragons of praise. Where the chief priests and scribes saw a threat, the children saw salvation. While Jesus healed the blind, the chief priests and scribes clung to their spiritual blindness and dismissed His power. But the children believed. They saw His wonders and didn’t doubt Him. In this way, children are also paragons of belief. Their willingness to be led—the very definition of innocence—is what makes children so profoundly special. 

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that many favorite children’s games revolve around sight. “Peek-a-boo” is a classic example. Young children simply delight in covering their eyes, pretending that they can’t see or be seen, and then, magically, they appear again as soon as they take their hands away. “I Spy” is another game that comes to mind. What a simple, but effective way to reinforce a young child’s awareness of the colors and shapes of the world around them. These types of games encourage the players to watch and notice—to embrace what’s right in front of us and to rejoice in the fact that it’s there and that we’ve found it.

God is our refuge and strength,
A very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear,
Even though the earth be removed,
And though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea;
Though its waters roar and be troubled,
Though the mountains shake with its swelling. Selah

There is a river whose streams shall make glad the city of God,
The holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved;
God shall help her, just at the break of dawn.
The nations raged, the kingdoms were moved;
He uttered His voice, the earth melted.

The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah

Come, behold the works of the Lord,
Who has made desolations in the earth.
He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two;
He burns the chariot in the fire.

Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!

The Lord of hosts is with us;
The God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah
~Psalm 46

I don’t know about you, but I often have a very hard time slowing down. World news, an over-dependence on my distracting cell phone, and bouncing between to-dos can leave me feeling like I’m in constant motion. In Psalm 46, the Lord tells us to be still, but He doesn’t pretend that achieving stillness is easy. The psalm paints pictures of roaring waters, shaking mountains, and raging nations—images that call current events to mind a little too easily. And yet, amid all of these troubles, the Lord calls us to be still. And in that stillness, He says, we have the blessed opportunity to know Him.