Nothing’s Ever Done — and That’s Okay

Some evenings, I look around the farm and feel overwhelmed with gratitude,
and others... I'm just overwhelmed!

The sky turns pink. The pond catches the moonlight just right. The horses and sheep mull around in peaceful belonging. The sun rise catches the dew-covered spider webs. I’m struck by the awe of getting to call this place home.

The animals wander in and out of my thoughts — the ones we have now, the ones we’ve buried, and the ones we still dream about. Winter settles in, and the cats get a little heavier. The sheep gain a couple of inches of wool. Life keeps moving, growing, changing.

The boys who once lived for muddy rain boots and tricycles now trade them for dirt bikes and fishing poles. The man who once rode competitively with a singular focus now pours that same intensity into training up children — not just to live, but to do so with integrity.

Teenagers gather around the table, eating everything in sight, asking me to bake bread… and then reminding me we’re out of ice cream in the same breath, like I am superwoman. 

The chores never end — in the house or the barn.

Last night, we trimmed sheep hooves. The smell. The struggle of three people trying to hold one small sheep. Sharpening the shears — that are still not sharp enough. Resolving to just get dirty and clean up later. Then horses had to be fed, water had to be run in preparation for the coming winter storm, dinner had to be served, and our jobs... somewhere in there, we have day jobs... the list was so full... Could we have waited for the hoof trimming? Sure. But it was overdue, and we were all home to get it done. It inevitably would have just been on another busy day, so why not this one?

There are broken fences — but they still hold what needs holding.
There are junk cars that will likely never see the highway again.
There are ongoing projects, dream projects, necessary projects… and projects we’ll probably never get to.

But when I step back and put it into perspective — how small my little slice of the world is, and how much He holds in the bigger picture — I’m reminded that I only see a fraction of what God is doing, and my full day is like a vapor in the wind to His majestic Omni-Everything Sovereign list of todos.  Sometimes, in His kindness, He lets me see in perspective with His bigger plan, and while I cannot fathom all the prayers, requests, needs, wants, petitions, praises, cries, and stories, He hears EVERY SINGLE ONE, FORGETS NONE, and STILL KNOWS WHEN IT'S ME!!!

The truth is this:

Nothing’s ever done.
There’s always something else to do.

We are always:
Waiting.
Growing.
Doing.
Building.
Tearing down.

But in our efforts to keep up with it all, Scripture tells us plainly:

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:1

Not everything is meant to be finished at once. Not every season produces visible results.
Some seasons are about faithfulness more than completion. (Laundry... Just saying) 

And yet, even in the unending to-do list, God knows our struggle and gives us direction:

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”
— Colossians 3:23

The work matters — even when it feels repetitive.
The care matters — even when it feels unseen.
The obedience matters — even when the list never ends.

I am humbled at the thought of His faithfulness to tend to all of us and I am put in my right mind about remaining focused on my own list and not grumbling about a full plate! 

Some days, the weight of it all is heavy.
And on those days, I cling to this promise:

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.”
— Isaiah 40:31

God never promised a life where everything gets wrapped up neatly with a bow. But He did promise strength for the work, rest for the weary, and purpose in the process.

So tonight, I look around this farm and my sweet little home — unfinished, imperfect, ever-changing, and needing attention— and I choose peace. I choose to focus on one project at a time and move between projects with grace for myself and others. I choose to complete what I can and leave what I cannot, and ask for help where I should. I choose to lay my burdens down and pick up my cross to follow Jesus and focus on what matters most. (It isn't the never-ending chore list....) 

Nothing’s ever done.
And that’s okay. 


What season are you in right now — and how might God be inviting you to be faithful there, even if nothing feels finished?


Lord, thank You for setting the bar on selflessness and sacrifice and for raising the standard for doing all that needs to be done. Thank you for seeing me in the middle of unfinished work and ongoing seasons and caring about my home and my family. Help me trust You with what I cannot complete and remain faithful in what You’ve placed before me today. Renew my strength when I grow weary, and teach me to rest and let go in Your timing. Amen.

Until next time, keep following the Plott, and I will be praying for us all. 💛

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