Anyone who knows me knows I never go anywhere without my planner. If it isn’t in my purse, it’s siting open on my kitchen table. I never schedule anything without consulting it to prevent double-bookings or missed appointments. I jot down my passwords, grocery lists, and blog ideas in its margins. Every day I work my way through its to-do lists.
I not only depend on my planner to keep my life organized, I am exceedingly picky about what sort of planner I use. I has to be big enough for my numerous notes. It has to have monthly and weekly calendars, with allotted space for daily to-do lists and schedules. And it should be cute, naturally.
I always use academic year planners so, this week being the first week of July, I get to start a new one. I wrote my first to-do’s an appointments with precision and neatness. I made sure to use all black ink so my pages would look uniform. I have not yet stuffed the pockets full of crumpled receipts and spare thank-you cards.
All was going swimmingly until…
I had to drop one of my to-do’s.
I was working on some sample writing material for a potential writing gig, but the more I looked into it, the more unsure I was that it would be the right fit for me.
But I plugged away because writing that sample material was in my planner. My new planner. How could I bear to start off a whole new planner with a failed to-do?
I kept working, even though I felt an increasing check in my spirit against this opportunity. It just didn’t seem like the right use of my time and I began to have serious concerns about the company. I kept asking myself, “Why? Why am I so determined to complete this task?” Nobody would be let down if I gave it up. I was bound by no law or promise. The company did not need me, nor did I need the job.
Finally, I had to admit that the only reason I was continuing to torment myself over this task was because I had written it in my planner. I had set it down as a to-do and so it must be done. Adhering to my planner usually renders me diligent and dependable. This time, it became a self-imposed legalism, rendering me miserable and self-absorbed.
So I did something far more difficult than completing the task and crossing it off: I drew a line through it and gave it up.
That line bothered me all week. It stood out among my neat columns of checks and crosses, marring the first page of my beautiful new planner. Was such surrender to characterize the 2025–2026 academic year? Were sad strike-throughs to be a continuing theme?
I forced myself to take a breath and pick up my journal instead of my planner. After a hearty bought of self-reflection, I came to the following conclusion: It is healthy for me to learn to leave some things undone and to live in peace regardless. My contentment cannot depend on my to-do list. I must instead learn to pray over I’ve done and left undone, and move forward with confidence—not in myself and my ability to do it all but in my all-sufficient Savior.
In a roundabout way, I am (begrudgingly) grateful for my undone to-do. My new planner may not be solely filled with satisfying checks and crosses—and that’s okay. Perhaps this year will be less about doing everything and more about prioritizing the right things, less about taking pride in my productivity and more about trusting the infinite Lord who made and loves me, a finite creature.
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Ryanne Molinari 