Skip to main content

Being Intentional: The Power of Planning Ahead

Many years ago, right after moving here, I went to a dentist. Before leaving, they asked me to schedule my next routine appointment. Since I had never done that before, it felt a bit exaggerated to book something six months in advance. But then I remembered the saying: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” So, I did.

After years of scheduling routine appointments for doctors and dentists ahead of time, I’ve realized the system is brilliant. We all need those checkups, and the sooner we schedule them, the better. It’s not just about securing a convenient time—it’s about making sure we don’t forget altogether.

A couple of months ago, after dinner with friends, I suggested we set up our next meal right away—two months later. With our busy schedules, I wanted to maximize the chances that everyone could make it. To my surprise, everyone loved the idea, and it worked perfectly.

That experience made me think: how many other things could we plan intentionally—things that don’t have an ulterior agenda but simply enrich our lives? Self-care activities like getting a haircut, meeting friends, going to a concert, visiting someone who can’t leave home, or exploring a place we’ve always wanted to see. Some involve others, some don’t. Some cost money, others are free. Some take time, others barely any. But all of them add joy and meaning to our lives.

As 2025 comes to an end, we start hearing about big goals and resolutions for the new year. We make lists of changes to become better, healthier, smarter, richer, and happier. I love that people set goals and plan to put in the effort—like going to the gym or eating healthier. But, as we all know, many of these resolutions fade before February.

For 2026, I want to focus on being intentional with the little things—the ones that matter most to me: my relationship with God, myself, my loved ones, and my work. I want to cultivate joy through gratitude. One prayer, one walk, one conversation, one blog post, one cup of coffee, and one smile at a time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Love or the Lack of it

Over the years, I’ve noticed a recurring truth: every time my heart feels restless, it’s because of love—or the absence of it. Love is the ultimate reason behind almost everything we experience. Think about it: when someone walks into a room and doesn’t say hello, it’s not just a matter of bad manners. It makes you feel invisible. That sense of invisibility steals your peace because, deep down, you don’t feel loved by that person. And I mean not loved, which is different from unloved. When we feel a sense of injustice, it often stems from a lack of love toward someone. It could be as small as someone eating the last piece of cake without asking if anyone else wanted some, or as inconsiderate as not replacing the toilet paper roll. I remember once rushing to make it to a meeting on time, only to find my friends arriving 30 minutes—sometimes even an hour—late. The examples are endless, but here’s what I’ve realized: whenever our hearts feel battered, if we pause and dig deep enough, we’l...

From Sedentary Faith to Audacious Trust

Last week, I read something that deeply resonated with me: the idea that  sedentism —a concept we usually associate with our physical lifestyle—has also quietly settled into our spiritual lives. It’s not just about how we seek food, shelter, or comfort anymore. It’s about how we approach faith. The reflection suggested that, since the Industrial Revolution, many of us have lived with a sense of safety and stability. That comfort has seeped into our spirituality. As long as we avoid major sins—like harming others—we assume we’re on the right path, bound for Heaven. But this kind of passive faith, shaped by comfort, can become weak. It doesn’t require boldness. It doesn’t demand trust in God when things fall apart. I had never thought about faith in this way. I’ve always seen myself as someone fairly courageous. But when I paused to reflect, I realized that four years ago, three of the biggest “certainties” in my life were stripped away. Beyond the pain and sadness, that moment marke...