What Are You Saving for Someday?

There was something I noticed this week that made me stop and smile. I have a collection of beautiful, brand-new notebooks sitting on a bookshelf. Some were gifts. A few I found while wandering through little bookstores or gift shops. Others were simply too pretty to leave behind. Every one of them felt like it was waiting for something important.

The funny thing is...many of them are still empty.

Apparently, I've been waiting for the "right" thoughts, the "right" project, the "right" season of life.

As I laughed at myself, I realized I'm not really saving the notebook.

I'm saving permission to use it.

That little realization reminded me of something I've seen more than once during my years working in eldercare.

Families eventually find themselves sorting through the belongings of someone they loved. They open closets, drawers, and boxes filled with a lifetime of memories. Sometimes they discover things that tell beautiful stories. Other times, they discover things that tell heartbreaking ones.

A friend once shared that while cleaning out her mother's closet, she found a beautiful dress with the tags still attached. Her mother had been saving it for a special occasion.

As she stood there holding the dress, she quietly realized...  The special occasion never arrived.  That story has stayed with me ever since.  Not because of the dress.  Because I wonder how often we quietly do the same thing with our own lives.

Maybe we aren't saving a dress.

Maybe we're saving permission.

Permission to slow down.

Permission to celebrate.

Permission to use the beautiful notebook.

Permission to enjoy an ordinary Tuesday simply because we're alive to experience it.

But somewhere along the way, I wonder if we've unintentionally started believing that ordinary days aren't worthy of beautiful things.

Maybe that's why so many of us keep waiting. Not because we're afraid. Not because we don't appreciate what we have. But because we've quietly convinced ourselves that life will announce when the "right" moment has arrived.

The truth is, it rarely does.

Life isn't made up only of milestones and celebrations. It's mostly made up of Tuesday afternoons, morning coffee, conversations around the kitchen table, a walk after dinner, and a quiet hour with a journal.

Those little moments often become the ones we remember most.

When we keep saving the good things for later, we sometimes miss the beauty that's already sitting in front of us today. Not because we're careless, but because we're looking past today toward a future that somehow feels more deserving.

I've started wondering if permission isn't something we receive.

Maybe it's something we gently give ourselves. Permission to enjoy. Permission to celebrate. Permission to make an ordinary day feel just a little more special.

Not because we've earned it.

Simply because we're here.

Because this day, like every other, is part of our life.

I recently came across an RV travel channel called Today Is Someday, and I found myself smiling before I even watched the video. Their name alone felt like a gentle reminder. We spend so much of life saying, Someday I'll... But what if someday isn't waiting somewhere out on the horizon?

Maybe someday has quietly become today.

Maybe this ordinary morning is the one you've been waiting for all along.

None of us knows how many "special occasions" we'll actually be given.

Maybe today is someday.

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One Intentional Step

Choose one thing you've been saving for "the right time."

Light the candle.

Use the notebook.

Wear the favorite outfit.

Open the good bottle.

Whatever it is, let today be special simply because you're living it.

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Continue the Conversation

I'd love to hear from you.

What have you been saving for someday?

And what is one small thing you'll choose to enjoy this week instead of waiting for the perfect moment?

Share your thoughts in the comments. You may inspire someone else to stop waiting, too.

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Until next time...

Grant yourself a little grace.
Trust yourself a little more.
And take one intentional step.

Be well,
Mary-Anne