When Enough Never Feels Like Enough

Being human sure is complicated.

The struggle to make 'good' decisions, live with and through hardship, treat others kindly, and find balance is real.

Amid all these experiences, expectations, responsibilities, and decisions, how do we determine whether we're doing enough?

By whose standards are we measuring ourselves?

And are those standards helping us grow in wisdom, love, and faithfulness—or leaving us perpetually feeling inadequate?

Do you ever struggle with your humanity, Dear Loved Ones?

With your thoughts and feelings? Your past, present, or even future choices? With making what you hope is the best, 'most right' choice?

With creating and maintaining balance amid the demands of your personal life, professional responsibilities, spiritual practice, or world dilemmas?

With your physical, mental, emotional, financial, or energetic well-being? With who you are, what you've done, or how you wish you were?

With feeling frustrated, overwhelmed, depleted, or exhausted? With navigating hardships—or perhaps even successes? With being kind while also being firm?

How about experiencing gratitude and joy even amid the suffering in the world around us or how life keeps going regardless?

Do you struggle with what supposedly makes life meaningful, why we're here, or what it means to be human?

For a moment, I'd like to explore the relationship between our expectations, our perception of our accomplishments, the grace we extend—or withhold—from ourselves, and our perseverance.

All while living in and navigating through an ever-changing world that ebbs and flows with humanity's own continual evolution...

It's nearing Tuesday evening, and while I have more ideas and open drafts than I will likely ever get to explore—let alone finish LOL—I feel rushed.

I set a goal for myself. For Faithful Focus Media.

I didn't announce it, but I aspired to complete one article a week.

To start, I picked the Dear Loved Ones series, and Friday mornings at 11:00. I planned it so that I would be ready for Shabbat—which starts Friday evening. It felt like a good place to start.

One article a week. I can manage that.

I even found myself thinking something like, "Once I can do that, and even get ahead, perhaps I can consider adding a second weekly—no… monthly. Monthly would be more promising. That way I can even do more than one type of article or series…"

Then, as if by some Divine plan, I got five articles—a mini-series about comedy and the space we share—prepped, completed, and scheduled.

Now, I knew my hubby and I had a lot going on, so I didn't expect to maintain that, but I was pretty stoked!

I hoped that maybe, just maybe, I could do more sooner than I originally thought possible. But wouldn't you know it, life threw me a curveball…

They just keep coming!

And while that is just how life goes, I feel like my batting average has to be crazy low. Then a thought hits like lightning, and I wonder what would happen if I stopped being so mean to myself, Dear Loved Ones.

If I supported myself.

Encouraged myself the way I often encourage others.

If I cheered myself on.

I bet I'd be reminding myself just how often—and how well—I not only hit the damn ball, but keep stepping up to bat.

And while it's super hard for me to even pretend to put this out into the universe—for many, MANY reasons—I cannot help but wonder about you, the one reading this.

How often are you there for someone else?
–Supporting them, cheering them on, uplifting them?

All the while criticizing yourself for everything you do—or don't—get done, or measuring yourself against whatever impossible standards you've set?

Why does it feel so hard sometimes to acknowledge, recognize, and accept that we don't suck?

Why is it so hard to practice the grace and compassion toward ourselves that we might encourage someone else to grant themselves?

Why do we judge ourselves so harshly?

And why is it sometimes so difficult to discern the truth about ourselves?

When does our desire to do better become an inability to acknowledge the good we've already done?

Perhaps part of the challenge, Dear Loved Ones, is learning to distinguish between correction that helps us grow and condemnation that leaves us feeling perpetually inadequate.

And perhaps it's worth remembering that our human limitations aren't something God has overlooked, will ever forget, or even use against us unfairly.

The Bible ever reminds us of God's justice and goodness.

Psalm 103 reminds us of Adonai's mercy and compassion toward those who fear Him. God remembers that we are dust. He knows our frailty, the weakness of our flesh, our limitations, and our fallibility.

And yet, Adonai extends grace.

It's now Wednesday morning, Dear Loved Ones, and I'm still wrestling with these and many other thoughts. There are so many things competing for my finite time and attention.

Responsibilities around the home, animals needing care and wanting non-stop attention, projects, goals, ideas, and tasks waiting to be completed–more than I know what to do with.

And then there's the world beyond my home.

A world filled with people who are hurting. Problems that need solving. Relationships and communities that need healing and restoration.

Things I know I cannot heal or restore on my own.

Things that, ultimately, only The Holy Trinity can fully heal and restore.

Even so, I cannot help but wonder what part Adonai might have me play, and how He might use me for His good. And yet still, my thoughts spiral.

How on earth can anything I do really make that much of a difference?

Does my writing matter? Sharing food? Encouraging someone who's struggling? Acknowledging a stranger, saying thank you, have a nice day, or giving someone a compliment?

Can these seemingly small things really make a difference?

But then my husband reminds me of a favorite story about someone walking along a beach, tossing stranded starfish back into the ocean.

It matters to that one.

Perhaps you've experienced something similar.

Perhaps your life, thoughts, and responsibilities look nothing like mine, but you know what it's like to feel as though whatever you accomplish, there's always something else you also 'should' be doing.

A book to read. A friend to help. A spiritual practice to study more deeply.

A work project. A family member in need. A social engagement. A cause to support. An upcoming election, sporting event, exam, or holiday to study and prepare for...

Something you hope to learn or do.

The never-ending cleaning, laundry, dishes, errands, or to-do list that only ever seems to grow no matter how much you check off that list.

Even something as ordinary as growing or buying groceries and preparing a meal can feel overwhelming amid the demands of everyday life.

And perhaps, somewhere along the way, we begin measuring ourselves not by the effort we've given, the growth we've experienced, or the good we've accomplished, but by everything that remains undone.

As tempting as it sometimes might be, I don't think the answer is to abandon our goals or responsibilities, but to somehow find balance.

To somehow extend grace not only to others, but also to ourselves. To those closest to us, and those whose lives may never intersect with our own.

To recognize the value of our contributions–no matter how small they may feel–without demanding that they solve everything.

To remember that grace and compassion shouldn't be selective or confined to one direction, but rather practiced with wisdom, accountability, and dare-I-say even gratitude.

And... that if we hope to bring this lovingkindness into the world, we must also practice with ourselves and those we interact with daily.

I wonder whether we sometimes confuse our worth with how much we accomplish. And whether, somewhere along the way, we exchange faithfulness for unrealistic expectations of performance and perfection.

Of course I want to be someone 'knocking it out of the park'. Someone accomplishing all the things, inspiring and helping others, making my Heavenly Father proud... Someone others can depend on.

Of course I want to honor my commitments, to continue learning, to grow in wisdom and in faithfulness... To use what Adonai has given me with discernment, understanding, intention, etc., and grace.

But while I strive to live by Christ's example, I am still human, living in a complex and complicated world.

Perhaps the desire to be faithful and live a meaningful life can become entangled with expectations that aren't actually required of us.

What if in our efforts to do more and become better, we forget to acknowledge that it is Adonai who makes all things possible?

Then I wonder whether learning to extend ourselves grace is sometimes part of learning to discern more truthfully.

Not excusing what needs correcting, or becoming overly harsh.

Not pretending that everything we do is good or right.

But acknowledging the hardships we each face while still recognizing our shared humanity and individual responsibilities.

Recognizing our limitations without allowing them to become accusations against our worth—or someone else's.

And accepting what is good alongside what still needs work.

All while remembering that continuing to show up matters, too.

Scripture calls us to examine ourselves, to grow, to persevere, and to pursue what is good. But Ecclesiastes 3 also reminds us that there is a time and season for everything under heaven.

I don't have all the answers, Dear Loved Ones. And I certainly don't know how to balance every responsibility, heal the world's divisions, or discern everything Adonai may ask of me.

I'm still learning how to navigate this life and the many questions myself. But perhaps there is something we can practice together.

The next time we find ourselves dwelling on everything we haven't accomplished, perhaps we can also take a moment to acknowledge what we have.

Not to become complacent.

But to become more truthful, gracious, and discerning in how we evaluate ourselves. We are, after all, reminded in that same book and chapter of Ecclesiastes, to rejoice, to do good, and to receive the enjoyment of our labor as a gift from God.

I find comfort in knowing that the Holy Trinity extends grace even as I continue learning, stumbling, and growing.

And while I fumble through this life, Dear Loved Ones, I prayerfully grow in gratitude, patience, understanding, humility, and wisdom—and learn how to extend the gift of grace more faithfully, too.

Perhaps, with Adonai's help, we can learn to not only encourage others to keep stepping up to bat, but also cheer ourselves on when we do, too.

Even... when life keeps throwing curveballs.