Present Over Perfect

asked. No, I said. I did, but now I know. I don’t know this
man, the one who stood in his tuxedo, speaking to his
children at some future wedding day. And his story is his,
and it’s valuable on its own terms, nothing to do with me.
And yet I do believe that if you’re asking for help, for
guidance, you’ll receive it, and it might come in a different
way than you expect.
I needed to know who should get the best of my energy:
my boys or a company that asked me to speak for them. I
needed to know what matters. And the image of that man in
his tuxedo was all I needed. You will always regret
something. You will always disappoint someone. But it isn’t
going to be my husband and our boys. It has been,
sometimes. But I’m learning. And I’m making things right.
And so this morning, I sent the email—afraid I’d be seen
as weak or irresponsible, afraid that by saying no to this
opportunity, I’d be pulling the ripcord on a career I’d spent
a decade building, praying for opportunities like this one. At
the same time, though, I knew that this was a clear shot at a
new future. That saying yes to this would be continuing a
way of living, a set of patterns that I’ve been trying to leave
behind for a long time. It became enormous in my mind:
can I change, or can’t I? Do I mean all the things I’ve been
saying about worth and rest and what matters most, or don’t
I?
I wrote the email, praying as I wrote, releasing control. I
felt more peace after I sent it than I had all week. No to this
could very well mean no to another opportunity I really