Dear To Do List,

Let's be clear. I own you, you do not own me.

I will limit you to 3 items a day. That's right. Do not try to multiply yourself anymore on my page this year - I have a new baby, a sweet 4 year old boy and a man to love.

I will resist your wily ways: attempting to get me to love crossing you off more than loving people and souls and laughter and togetherness.

I will love Being more than Doing.

You do not run my life, and I can throw you away at a moment's notice. You are putty in my hands, To Do List. You are silent, your words hold no power. I choose the amount of ink I spill on you.

I Make You. You do not make me.

I am a free agent. Free from achieving tasks, from measuring my success by your agenda, from thinking I have done well if I obey you.

I am choosing peace and rest from you.

To Do List, I do think you are helpful. But again, let's be clear, I am no slave to you. You most definitely can learn some patience around you. You can wait.