As a kid, I was often accused of having eyes that were bigger than my stomach.

I circled the Christmas dinner buffet at Grandma’s house and loaded up my plate with hearty helpings of cheesy carrots, mashed potatoes, garlic bread and roast beef — epically failing to proportion a place for those Midwestern-made, whipped cream-laden fruit ‘salads’ or multiple lefse rolls, which I carefully stacked on top of other items so as to not mix them too much.

This behavior pattern extended into my imaginary play worlds, too. I remember building a Lego college with lecture halls — and then believing it would be fun to literally have individual characters, I don’t know, I guess live out a four-year bachelor’s degree? It wasn’t sustainable, but Seder-Skier State University sure did have a nice athletic wing, complete with a full basketball court!

Speaking of the greatest game …

When I left the Lego room, I’d go make another mess next door, acting out make-believe basketball games between two NBA squads rostered by my various Beanie Babies. I would stack five or six encyclopedias sideways on the carpet, place my wooden basketball hoop — which had a styrofoam cup nailed to the backboard — and play through an entire 48-minute game. I announced — and later recorded in a notebook — every pass, shot, rebound, block, assist, steal and final score.

Then, while walking upstairs to eat whatever lunch my mom made for me and my brothers, I would ambitiously plan to simulate the rest of the 82-game season for all 32 teams.

Perfect, I thought as I nibbled a sandwich and sipped up some of Addie’s tomato soup. What could possibly get in the way of that?

Well, January got busy, because I also had to negotiate the NFL schedule. As the months ticked off and my career as a dual-sport commissioner inevitably died out. Whenever this happened (yes, I played multiple campaigns and also monitored a baseball league as well as the X-Games and Olympic track and field meets), I honestly felt a little bit of an emotional let down. Deep inside, I felt bad for failing to follow through, even though the whole enterprise wasn’t real.

I was wondering this morning if it’s possible to feel this sensation — or maybe learn from the childhood experiences — as a grown up. How often do we dream up audacious plans to renovate and reorganize the garage or re-arrange the living room? You maybe even dreamed of decorating it with one of those wooden coffee tables you were going to find on the side of the road and spice up with painted flowery designs like the Pinterest people who do everything better than you. But then the guy at Ace Hardware sold you a deceiving green, your first daisy turned out more like a dandelion, you can’t find a suitable replacement for the broken handle on the cute little drawer and you remembered real life isn’t Pinterest …and now… everything is ruined.

Maybe you envisioned enhancing your homeschool curriculum with the perfect lesson plan to teach your kids how to multiply or understand the Constitution. You got the first four weeks slated, and the kids were actually enjoying it, but then, field trips happened, you had to drive to Tennessee for a wedding and all of a sudden, it’s March and the rhythm is gone. The poster you hung up displaying all your progress fell on the kitchen floor next to a strewn out mess of single socks, random blocks and a stuffed animal or 10 …and your husband — in an attempt to actually help, did just the opposite — swept it into the trash — and your confidence went right along with it.

Maybe you possess lofty spiritual ideals, like planning a regular family worship time, only to fizzle out after a couple Saturday mornings. You learned from that experience that either you can’t lead or you’re not a Christian — or maybe both!

What about your dedication to a new fitness routine? It began with you diligently obeying the 5 a.m. alarm, heading to the basement to wack out some sit-ups and pull-ups, only to end with you caving to your carnal instincts of sleeping in, skipping the run, avoiding bad weather and heading to Applebees at 4 for half-priced apps.

We stink. We fail. We fall short. We give up.

And then we think: am I just the type of person who is bad at everything?

We wonder: am I the only person who is like this?

We debate: ‘now, that was a waste of time — what was the point of playing those first 11 regular season games in the first place if I never got to the Beanie Baby NBA playoffs!?

Now, to be fair, there’s probably an actual line many cross (too often) when it comes to demonstrating a lack of perseverance. Those people need to look at themselves in the mirror and face the fact: they’re kind of wimpy and they tend to stop when the going gets tough. Generally speaking, society lacks stick-to-itiveness.

But there’s nuance in there, too. There’s a message for the hardcore folks, the dreamers, the dedicated, the drivers — all of you people who don’t struggle in that department but actually might have a weakness somewhere else. You actually have great ideas, you’re willing to put in the work, but because life constantly interrupts your flow state, you never quite get to see the thing come to fruition.

Or maybe … you will, and the dead end isn’t really a dead end at all.

Maybe the start-ups are part of the process. Maybe you learned something in those first 11 games — about your idea, yourself, your organization, your energy, your skill set — that you never would have if you hadn’t started. And maybe that intel will impact the next project. In fact, maybe it will be the reason you’re 11 steps ahead. Maybe every enterprise — even the ones we don’t finish — actually matter. Like, a lot.

So, here’s my encouraging (hopefully) thought: don’t hesitate to go for something. To try. To follow your heart (OK, I know that’s a little dangerous to say on it’s own, so contextualize it with a healthy theological base, if you know what I mean).

If you have a great plan, roll it out. Run the plays. Keep it going as long as you can. Along the way, stay nimble, of course. And do your best, of course. And then, if you find your imaginative fuel running out or the time slipping away because your responsibilities are shifting to something more important for a season, just chill. Your once boundless energy might get pulled in a different direction, or run out all together, and it might cause you to hit a wall.

So what?

It’s possible to discover the juice isn’t worth the squeeze (love that phrase, as you can tell), and still NOT take the resulting pivot personally. Maybe you don’t have the bandwidth right now, but that doesn’t discount all the work you did. Investments happened. The return will, too. Progress was made. Real progress.

At the end of the day, I believe the spirit that places more on their plate than they can eat is one which sees the positive potential in everything (I know wanting to have it all isn’t always a healthy way to live, but there’s another angle to the metaphor). Some might say those types of people possess a child-like worldview that’s simply unrealistic. But maybe it’s actually eternal optimism. Either way, I say, keep coming back to the table.

One of these days, you’ll clean your plate.