A big to-do: when life becomes a series of checklists, it's easy to lose sight of what's really important.

1. GO TO MASS

I can't get through one day without a checklist. No Black-Berry or Palm Pilot for me, though. I organize my life the low-tech way, with 3-by-5 index cards on which I scribble endless "to-do" lists. Make a goal, write it down, do it, cross it off, move on--that's the rhythm of my life.

Although I rely on lists as I juggle the demands of four children and a full-time job, I've come to realize that my checklist mentality, useful as it is, might have some spiritual drawbacks. Too often I am distracted from the present, focusing instead on the next item on my agenda. Jesus wisely counseled against such behavior when he said, "sufficient unto the day the evil for the day," but that's difficult for a Type-A personality like me to accept. Besides, if I don't write my obligations down, I'm likely to forget them.

The self-righteous Pharisee in Luke's gospel shares my excessive devotion to lists for their own sake. A compulsive itemizer, he stands in the temple before God, intent only on presenting his roster of good deeds. He ticks off his spiritual accomplishments, but as Jesus points out, his checklist mentality does not lead him to grace or humility.

Until recently my own zeal for lists has been most pronounced in December, when I plot my New Year's resolutions, the ultimate spiritual inventory. Knit more, read more, diet more, exercise more, pray more, give more alms! Like the Pharisee, I crafted a long list of annual goals that I was sure would result in a thinner, happier, more spiritual me. But it never worked that way. Even though I accomplished many of my earthly goals, the spiritual dimension of the exercise always eluded me.

That is, until I read this terse quote from St. Josemaria Escriva: "Make few resolutions. Make them definite. And fulfill them with the help of God." This made sense. And so that December I wrote only one resolution on my New Year's list: Attend Mass every Sunday.

This goal was not a stretch, but two surprising things happened. First by focusing intently on that one goal, my attitude toward the Mass began to shift. I realized I had been suffering from what the Catechism of the Catholic Church quaintly calls "lukewarmness," which made me dutiful but not particularly prayerful about my attendance.

But when the Mass became the only item on my New Year's list, I learned to be much more intentional about my attendance. The Mass also became a way for me to focus solely on the present--something my checklist mentality often made difficult. By year's end, what was habit in January had, by early fall, become my prayer.

Perhaps more significantly, I learned that counting and weighing one's deeds is not the path to love. The Eucharist works its full power when you receive it mindfully, and if writing a reminder on an index card helps, by all means do it. My checklist mentality gets me to church regularly, but as with anything, it is the attentiveness with which I attend Mass that makes for a rich spiritual accounting. In the end, true humility happens in the being, not in the doing.

I'm not ready to swear off lists altogether, but I'm hopeful that I write them with a bit more care and intention. I remind myself as I face yet another new year that each line item is not simply a measure of what I have accomplished, but instead represents a vast potential for grace. In the words of Emily Dickinson, true joy comes when I realize that I'm not getting to heaven at last, but rather, in every precious moment. With help from my trusty index card, I'm going there all along.

By LISA M. STEPANSKI, an associate professor of English at Emmanuel College in Boston.