Work. More work. Rinse and repeat.
Job No. 1. Job No. 2. Sometimes job No. 3. Loop.
Clean the yard. Clean the house. Spend time with the kids. Cook dinner. Do it again.
Hobbies? Fitness? Church? Mental health? Who’s got time?
Single father? Single mother? Family of five? New parents? We’re all in this together.
Life is hard. Balancing life is even harder.
The older I get, the more I realize how our days fill up with things that matter less — while the things that should matter most get pushed to the edges. The mundane stretches out and takes over, leaving little space for what really deserves our time.
The short days feel too short. The long days creep past us physically and drain us mentally. It’s never enough and always too much at the same time.
On the short days, life feels beautiful. Things capture my eye that make me realize that the creation I am surrounded by is a humbling experience. Watching my boys throw a baseball, catching my wife’s eye in a way that reminds me of the love that we’ve built or the quiet breath I take when I walk through the door of the house I’m blessed to call home. Those days open my eyes to everything I’ve earned — and everything I’ve been given.
While the long days, though, feel like a never-ending chore list. The work emails linger in my mind long after I’ve clocked out. My 50-minute commute home feels like a drive to the next job — and sometimes, it is. Long hours on Redstone Arsenal by day. Writing for The Tribune when I can. Youth pastor always. Oh, and I’m a dad, too. A husband. A coach. The guy mowing the grass and working around the house. The extra dad showing up at ballgames for students who need one.
And still, no matter how hard I work, I am plagued with the same question. Did I do enough today? My mind doesn’t rest on the long days.
My voice won’t quiet in my head.
Gauge, did you do enough today?
Is being busy an addiction? Am I driven — or is this just the only way I know how to make sense of life? Do all these “purposes” I’m juggling really add value, or are they just ways to keep moving?
Gauge, did you do enough today?
Finally, my head hits the pillow. I know rest will come. Eventually, it always grows quiet. My kids are tucked away in their beds. My wife, after her own long day, finds rest beside me. I’m grateful for her nearness. The juggling act in my head is quieting.
Sometimes, I pray without even realizing it — thanking the Lord for the small moments that made the long day worth showing up for.
Rest is here.
And then, the next day begins.
Reader, odds are, you have been where I am — never knowing whether it’s a day of thriving or surviving. You battle with the same questions in your head that I do. Whether you are a mom, a dad, an independent young person just trying to make it or someone simply overloaded with the weight of life, you know the feeling.
And that’s okay.
It’s okay to question ourselves in the thick of it. In fact, I firmly believe we are supposed to. Questioning invites reflection. Reflection forces us to be honest with ourselves. And without that honesty, we never see what our scale actually looks like.
Are we leaning so far into work that our families get the scraps? Are we so consumed with purpose that we forget to take care of ourselves? How do we keep showing up without sacrificing ourselves at the altar of productivity?
Balance.
We seek what gives us balance — sometimes desperately. We search for what grounds us. Ever watched a juggler who left you in awe? Maybe they start with bowling pins, then move on to flaming torches. Knives. Still standing. Still juggling. You think the act is done.
Then they place a cylinder on the floor, balance a board on top and continue juggling — now elevated, now unstable. Maybe they stack 10 chairs under that platform, climbing higher, still somehow in control. You watch, amazed. It’s wild. It’s impressive. It’s real.
And it’s a reflection of how so many of us live.
Juggling isn’t always a performance — it’s survival. A single parent never gets to say, “I’ll just do one thing at a time.” They’re a mother and father, provider, encourager, cleaner, disciplinarian — all at once, all the time.
That kid surviving through a divorce situation where now suddenly they have to help their family provide? Maybe they now work part time to help cover rent. They don’t get to live a normal childhood. They have to grow up earlier than what is fair. They juggle school, responsibilities, trauma — and no one hands them a manual.
And for the anxious? Your mind is fleeting and moves in every direction. What if this? What if that? Am I enough? Worry invades you and chains you to the floor of your mind — yet the world still spins on. Life still demands that you continue your juggling performance.
A juggler can juggle 10 chairs up on a wobbly platform with knives in their hands because they believe they can. They trust in the ability of their hands and their feet. Their mind is centered and balanced on the tasks at hand. Yes, doubt can creep, but they press on, finishing the show. They are grounded, even 10 chairs up. They see the big picture. That’s the difference.
Balance can show up in many forms, and often, it’s right in front of us — we just have to open our eyes to see it. It might be your kids, a dream you’re chasing or even your faith. To find balance in the chaos, you have to see the bigger picture to understand your purpose at a deeper level. If you’re a young mom working two jobs just to make it — who are you doing it for? My own single mother used to tell me that my sister and I were her rock. We were her reason to keep going, even when it felt impossible. That’s balance: knowing what matters most and letting it anchor you when life feels unsteady.
For me, my balance is in my faith and family. I love my family and they give me purpose. They make me want to work so I can always give them the best that I can. But I’ve also been that kid — forced to grow up too fast. I’ve lived through abuse, depression, divorce, losing my father, couch surfing and everything in between. And through it all, my grounding has come from Jesus. It still does and I will never stop saying it.
Balance looks different for every person, but it can be yours.
But it’s not easy. It doesn’t mean I get to just “be.” The key to thriving — and not just surviving — has been intentionality. I have to choose each day to be fully present in the many roles I’ve been given. I choose to be the best youth pastor I can be. The best writer. The best cyber expert. The best dad. The best coach. You get the point.
Whatever gives you balance, hold on to it. Feed it. Protect it. Be intentional with it. What’s your purpose? To support your family? To earn that degree? To heal? To grow? Whatever it is, take the small steps with furious intention. Don’t let the long days be just full — let them be complete.
And when the short days come — the quiet ones, the good ones — slow down. Notice the blessings. Whisper a thank-you. Be present in the here and now. Let those moments be your reset. Rest.
Because the long days will come again. But this time, you’ll be ready. You now see the bigger picture and have your foundation.
So, reader, what’s your balance? What keeps you steady when life throws the kitchen sink at you — when the emails pile up, the bills never stop, your kids keep growing, the homework gets harder and time leaves you in its dust? Pursue it.
Juggling life will never be about perfection, but it can be juggled with purpose.
Continue to have the capacity to grow in the midst of all that you juggle. Be intentional. Choose what matters. Let the long days shape you into something better and the short ones remind you of why you’re in the battle at all. Fight to thrive, not survive.
Because thriving doesn’t mean we just simply carry less, it’s about learning to carry all that we have well.
