Saying Yes

Sometimes I worry I am not doing life well.

This is one of those times.



Growing up one of my favorite films to watch was the early 90s version of "Father of the Bride." (As a grown-up one of my favorite films to watch is still the early 90s version of "Father of the Bride.") Even as I child, I have always identified with Steve Martin's character, George Banks. He is loving, hard-working, funny, and loses his cool in dramatic ways. He looks like he has it together but is clearly on the brink of disaster as major life events unfold around him. Like George, I could hastily separate unneeded hot dog buns in the supermarket.

As George's inner monologue reflects on the events surrounding his daughter's wedding he keeps restating that all the chaos is worth it--as long as he can kiss the bride at the end of the evening. As fate would have it, he ends up in all the wrong places at the wrong time and has to keep things together behind-the-scenes. Because of all the commotion [SPOILER ALERT] he doesn't get to see his baby girl head out the door and into married life.

Nina, his wife, is shown with a pained expression as the bouquet is tossed down the staircase.

"He missed it."

And I would be lying if I didn't say that is how my life feels this season.




I was diagnosed two summers ago with an intense case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out). My most anxious moments come from circumstances where I am unable to see people I love and have experiences I was looking forward to. When I can't attend the celebration or line up my schedule with the visiting friend or make the journey I get completely let down. Not an, "Oh bummer! I was looking forward to that!" let down. An intense realization and frustration that the experience will never happen again, whether good or bad, and I was not a part of it. It makes my heart physically hurt.

This season of my life has been especially painful.

These past few months I have said "No" many more times than I have said "Yes". I have missed important life moments for family and friends. I have given up opportunities to see people that I don't get to spend much time with. I have excused myself from great fun, good conversation, and well-liked Instagram pictures. How many texts have I sent that started with, "I am so sorry but..."?

And for what?

For countless working hours and the things I am involved in at church.
For my family as we support each other through life and health highs and lows.
For my laundry and bills and vacuuming and groceries.
For much-needed sleep.
For my own sanity.

Any person with common sense would point out that these are healthy choices. Saying "No" in these circumstances is usually a wise decision with my body and spirit in mind. In the spirit of 'Self Care' I have to take care of me so I am able to take care of others.

But it is still saying that dirty word--NO.

Saying "No" sometimes feels like I am telling someone I don't appreciate them. Or that I am uninterested in activity outside my office. Or that I am dying. None of these things are true (...usually).

So why miss out on all these great experiences? If they are so important and will be so sorely missed, why not just buck up and say Yes to everything?!  



Maybe I am.

Maybe I am not saying "No" at all.

Maybe I am instead saying "Yes" to the less exciting, less conventional, and less appealing parts of life.

And maybe those "Yes"s will end up being the best choices in the long run. Because they will ensure that I am doing my job fully and loving my family well and allowing me to keep my car and wear clean clothes and eat.

They will make sure I don't end up in jail for grocery aisle meltdowns over hot dog buns.

Yes.

Significant

James Bergen, my pastor and teammate, is a man who uses his words carefully. He puts weight into what he says and does not waste his breath with rambling, gossip, or "thinking out loud". In his sermons, conversation, and witty banter you can tell he has thought through what he is going to say. He is in tune with what is going on around him and rarely repeats himself.

Which is why I find it interesting that, after a few weeks of repeatedly throwing out a particular word in my own conversations, I can trace it back to him.

That word is significant.

sig·nif·i·cant/siɡˈnifikənt/

adjective sufficiently great or important to be worthy of attention; noteworthy.

This autumn was an attention-grabber for me and many people around me.

My Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in October and was immediately thrown into a season of consultations, procedures, and well-wishes. She has had to step out of her classroom, her community, and her normal routine in order to heal. Instead of wandering through the rows of desks in Room 52 and speaking about Japan or Islam or compound sentences she is trying to get comfortable in her living room recliner. It is a huge shift on all accounts. And not just for her but for her family, her coworkers, her students. 

Within my own community and around the world it seems there are recent events and conversations that have changed the course of history on an individual and global scale.

People have gotten married.
Had children.
Applied for grad school.
Broken bones.
Felt their city shaken with violence and fear.
Felt their neighborhood redeemed with warm blankets and a demand for reform.
Seen God move in ways they never expected.

This is an important time.

sig·nif·i·cant/siɡˈnifikənt/

adjective having a particular meaning; indicative of something.

In the Liturgical calendar, we have just started the season of Advent and, with that, the beginning of a new year.
(Are we supposed to sing "Auld Lang Syne" for this transition?) As a Church we talk about the birth of Christ and God's redemption story for the world. We sing songs, make crafts, and give gifts to celebrate this special season. For the kids I interact with, this is the highlight of their year! For some of the adults I spend time with, this is the most stress-filled and anxiety-producing time of the year.

There is a lot going on.

People are attending church services.
Buying presents and decking halls.
Serving food to the less fortunate.
Waiting in lines.
Complaining about the corporate approach to Christmas.
Praying with power for their community and world.
Seeing God move in ways they never expected.

This is an important time.

sig·nif·i·cant/siɡˈnifikənt/

adjective of, relating to, or having significance.

I am engaging this season with confidence and exhaustion. There are many big events and meaningful conversations that have occurred for me in a short amount of time. From writing papers to wandering trails I have seen God's ultimate authority and my own emotional and physical limitations. It is a beautiful season in my life but one that is still plagued with doubt and fear and distraction. But I believe it is going to be good. And I believe it is worth paying attention to.

This is an important time.

May your season be significant.