“Complete,” Nancy said when I asked her for a word.

It may be because we are taking care of the final details of some work in our kitchen. The last bits of paint. The last pieces of molding. The final touches. We’re going for complete, something that we often don’t do.

To be accurate, something that I often don’t do. That last touch, that last edit, that last proofread. The thing that will let me say, “Complete.”

I have several things that get in the way of complete, mostly things that are internal. You do, too. We have insecurities and perfectionisms. We have stronger addictions to starting than to finishing. We have more fun with rough drafts than with final edits.

We are too insecure to say, “That’s enough. Complete.”

I was talking with a friend who said that staying in the hospital for 40 days cleared a lot of things off his to do list. He couldn’t do them and they are now resolved. Of course, it’s not just the hospital stay. The uncertainty of whether he has five weeks or five months or five years is providing focus, too. He’s looking at what he can mark “Complete” and let go of. Even if it’s not as polished as he would like, even if it’s not as thorough as he expected it might need to be. He’s counting it as “complete”.

I spent time with a bunch of people last week who come from many parts of the last 30 years of my life. Many are people that I have worried about pleasing, have worried about displeasing. Not one of them said, “About that project . . .”

It makes me wonder how many things in our hearts and minds and souls we are keeping open. It makes me wonder how many we could, with a little work, mark “complete”?

I’ll think about that while I take care of the next piece of our kitchen list.