Every day we have to make them…for us…for our children. Some are better at it and some just plain panic at the thought of making a decision. Often it’s the little decisions that send us over the edge.
That’s why the other night out to dinner with two girlfriends it was so refreshing to not have to make many decisions. When I showed up earlier than my friends, the server asked if I would like a glass of wine. Yes. That decision was easy. Then I waited for a wine list…and I got a bottle of wine instead. Do your friends drink wine? Why yes they do, but I’m not sure if we will get a bottle. We’ll worry about that later, he tells me. Okay then.
When my girlfriends arrive they are excited to see the wine on the table. They quickly fill me in that this restaurant doesn’t have menus. The chef just brings out different dishes…my friend exhaled a big sigh, raised her glass, Here’s to someone else making the decisions for me. We all joined in and heartily agreed with her toast.
What a treat, what a pleasure, what a gift for someone else deciding what to cook, how to cook it, making it taste fabulous… then doing the dishes.
My friend’s toast got me to thinking how I have evolved over the years in my decision making. I used to worry about making the wrong decision for fear of disappointing someone, then that turned into a fear over disappointing myself. Redirected, but still fear.
Then I learned no decision is a wrong decision. One definitely may be better than the other, but all decisions lead to another path. I remembered to consult a few I trust, ones who know me, then go to the best source of them all…my gut. I think this is where God lives. Not in my head, often not in my heart, but right there at my center. My core. Then you have to let go…trust…surrender.
Of course there are still decisions that make me sweat…but I am no longer making a decision based on someone else’s possible reaction. I am ordering off the menu and choosing what feels right in my gut. Now it would be nice to have a chef show up every day in my kitchen…actually, scratch that. It would be nice to have a busboy show up every day in my kitchen.
Oh, get your mind out of the gutter…all he would do is, clear the table, wash the dishes and take out the garbage. Leave the cooking to me.