It’s All Good / Patti Lamb

Embrace your smallness, fulfill your purpose in life

Recently, a lovely friend from church whom I greatly respect asked me to consider accepting a volunteer position to serve as the chairperson of the parish’s largest fundraiser. It’s a hefty undertaking, and the commitment would require an immense amount of time and energy.

That day, I did something I don’t typically do well.

I said “no.”

Of course, I said it more graciously than that, and I thanked her for even considering me for the opportunity. I apologized profusely and stewed over it so much that I literally gave myself a stomachache.

A younger version of myself would have agreed to the responsibility, put on a virtual superhero cape and burnt the candle at both ends until the event was over, at which point I’d be so spent that I’d be sick. I’m older now, and I’ve come to some realizations that I’ve gained through experience.

That day, I remembered that saying “yes” to someone or something means saying “no” to someone or something else. That “something else” is inevitably my family.

Between serving as “mom taxi” for the kids since my husband has been traveling frequently, to supporting my sister, who is the primary care provider for my parents, I feel like I’m being called to spend my time in a different way.

There’s also laundry to be done, plus lawn maintenance, house cleaning, and—Oh! Did I mention we’re doing some “do-it-yourself” house renovations? Our couch is in the kitchen at the moment because we needed to move it out of the living room, which we’re painting when we get the minutes.

Some might say I’m selfish. That’s very much the way I felt until I was tackling some overdue cleaning and had to sweep the dust off the book on my nightstand. I opened the book at the marked page while the cloud of dust settled from my cloth.

I read this passage from Present Over Perfect, a wonderful read by Shauna Niequist.

“And now some years later, I know that I am responsible for stewarding my own life, my desires and limitations, my capacities and longings. I can do far less than I originally believed.

“And I’m reveling in the smallness of my capacity. This is it. This is who I am. This is all I have to give you. It’s not a fire hose, unending gallons of water, knocking you over with force. It’s a stream: tiny, clear, cool. That’s what I have to give, and that small stream is mine to nurture, to tend, to offer first to the people I love most, my first honor and responsibility.”

In that moment, I embraced my smallness. I accepted that I cannot do it all; I cannot please everyone.

I’ve already experienced biting off more than I could chew (multiple times), and my family suffers.

At this particular time, I believe that fulfilling my purpose comes in forms I didn’t anticipate: Making beef stew for my parents so they enjoy a hearty homemade meal. Sewing a button on my husband’s shirt the night before an important work meeting. Helping my daughter navigate the drama that comes with being a middle school girl.

A quote from author Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life, delivers some peace.

“When anything in creation fulfills its purpose, it brings glory to God. It’s all for him. The ultimate goal of the universe is to show the glory of God.” †
 

(Patti Lamb, a member of St. Susanna Parish in Plainfield, is a regular columnist for The Criterion.) †