This week has been one of those weeks that I wish I had more time for resolutions, to-do lists, life in general. I want to do everything right now, attack seven different things at the same time. My brain has been buzzing all week, jumping from one thing to another, leaving monstrous to-do lists in its wake.

How am I going to do all the things I want to do? My list from work. My list from home. My list of resolutions. My list of responsibilities. All the people I’d love to spend more time with. And all the things I wish I could do to relax: nap, read, write more.

I want to do a million things, but I only have 24 hours.

The problem is I’m not trusting the fact that God has given me enough time, all the time that he knows I need. In response, I haven’t used much of that time with him.

This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten to this place. I’m in familiar territory here with my to-do lists and manic goal-setting, pretending to think it’s possible to stuff a week’s worth of work into one day. I get this way at the beginning of new calendar years, at the start of new school years, around my birthday, after vacation, after I read an inspiring book, when I’ve had an ah-ha moment, when I start a new project. I leap right in and forget that I’m only human.

It’s not that leaping and goal-setting are bad, it’s just that I’ve forgotten how to prioritize (and, along the way, misplaced my sense of reality).

Please tell me I’m not the only one.

Now, more than ever, with the world at our fingertips, opportunity around every corner, and all kinds of glittering entertainment at our beck and call, it’s really hard to focus. It’s hard to pick out the things that are important, to make time for the one thing needful.

I think the only way to do this is to sit down with Jesus every day so that he can teach us what the needful things are. Right now when I hear his words, “come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest,” I think about bringing my armloads of dreams and hopes and resolutions, my crumpled bits of writing notes, my scattered brain full of running to-do lists and laying it all at his feet. Setting it all down.

Every day I need to hear him say, “Your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:32-33).

Every day I need his words to shine into the dark, harried corners of my life, bringing me back to Him, trusting him with the days ahead, keeping me sane and focused at just the hour at hand.

When I do, I find that my path is littered with opportunities, all the ones that he wants me to have for the day: to enjoy the hot shower, to find a missing Lego, to listen to a friend’s story, to pick up a piece of trash, to type out the article, to quietly say no so that I have time to pray, to fall asleep next to my quickly growing children, to walk more gently through the day.