When “a lot” can be “too much.”

“Do not reap to the very edges of your field…” (Leviticus 23:22)

I came across this Old Testament reference during an early stint in hospital leadership a decade or so ago. Then as now I occasionally vexed my wife by splitting hairs around the subtle difference between saying “It’s too much” when considering the weight of family, work and calendar stress and saying “It’s a lot.” One makes the challenges sound insurmountable, while the other leaves the possibility that we could still squeeze a few more things into the schedule. (Hence the vexation.)

My reflex is to go with “It’s a lot” rather than “it’s too much,” but there is no question that there are “too much” times in life; times when we need to take a tactical pause and figure out what needs to change.

Thirty years ago I hiked the Grand Canyon wearing boots that were too small (very painful on a continual downhill slope). After about twelve hours I reached the point along Bright Angel Creek that I told my friend I couldn’t go another step. It was a first for me. The first time in memory where I had reached a limit to what I was physically and mentally able to do. We camped just off the trail that night before heading back the next morning. Staring up at the stars on that cloudless night I thought a lot about margins and edges.

At the time, I was leaving general pediatrics, relocating my family across the country, entering into a fellowship in pediatric pulmonology, and I had already started plans to simultaneously get a masters degree in health administration from Temple University.

That night I resolved that it would all probably be too much. And the next day on the trail when we struck up a conversation with other hikers who just happened to be students in Temple’s MHA program, I bit my tongue and didn’t tell them that I’d soon be joining them. (Some things you just can’t make up.) I let the idea go. It was a fortunate decision. The fellowship was more rigorous than I had imagined, my father declined rapidly and died from cancer in that three year window, and we had the surprise birth of our first set of twins. I am thankful for the persuasive influence of those too-small boots.

The passage in Leviticus further explains why the corners of one’s field should be left unharvested: “Leave them for the poor and for the foreigner residing among you.” The harvest and gleanings at the edges of the field were for the needy in Biblical times. And they represent a primary reason for leaving margins in our own lives as leaders. We cannot always anticipate who will need us; when we will need to be present and available for others particularly for family members who often have the most difficult time “getting on our schedules.” Early in parenting I abandoned the idea of thinking that I could schedule quality time with our kids. Instead I learned that we need to just “Be there,” echoing lion-tamer Gunther Gabel-Williams advice to his son about climbing into a lion cage. I wish I had been there more.

We also need to leave a little at the edge for ourselves. Like the too-small boots in the Grand Canyon episode, there will be times when “a lot” becomes “too much,” the schedule becomes too tight and we will need to recover. Better to have those times of rest, hobby or relaxation anticipated and scheduled than to have to cancel or shuffle other things to find the time to squeeze them in.

The margins are for others and for self.
They won’t be available to either if we reap to the edge of our field.

Chuck Callahan Henry V 4.3 – Lead from the Front   https://henryv43.com/