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I’ve been the one who agreed to everything. Need a hand, a babysitter, a ride, some help, a Sunday School teacher, an organizer? Sure, I’m your girl. I mean, I used to be your girl.

I couldn’t say no to save my life, back in the day.

But I grumbled. I fussed because I was busy and tired and behind and late and oh my goodness, I could get grumpy.

There’s been some good stuff written and spoken, these past years. Lots of stuff about saying no and finding your passion and being true to yourself and how sometimes all those yeses are really about trying to seem like something special in the eyes of others. Stuff about wearing masks and taking off masks and letting go of expectation.

I read that stuff and listened to those words, and for a while I said no to almost everything. Which was kind of hard, but not actually as hard as you might think. It was a relief and I relished the space I gained.

But honestly, I think all my no’s made me a tiny bit lazy. I hid like a shy child, behind the folds of God’s apron, petulantly claiming that’s not my gift or that’s not my passion. Kind of sucking my thumb and pouting a little, and He was a patient mother when I needed him to be. But He nudged me out, finally, and gave me a little push because, He said, you can’t hide here forever.

I’m stepping out, now, somewhere on the road between the cowardly yeses that kept me feeling safe and busy, and the childishly justified playground of my no’s. I’m looking for the Holy Spirit intersection between being true to me and it’s not all about me. You know?

It’s a journey.

Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.

Psalm 84:5

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