I cannot be still.
I cannot meditate.
I am dismissive of silence.
As a kid, I would oftentimes run to the car before my mother and crank the radio volume to full dial. When she stuck the keys into the ignition the radio would screech notes at an undiscernible decibel. My mother would wince and I would laugh with all the hilarity I believed that prank deserved. While I am not claiming causation, I am now an adult woman and notoriously play my music loud. I want to be fully embraced by the notes and lyrics of the music. If I am interrupted as I listen, I actually pause the song instead of turning down the volume. I cannot handle both relational and musical input at the same time. It feels like getting tapped on the shoulder and being cut in on during a slow dance during a Brian Adam's song.
We have some pretty major decisions waiting for us in the carpool line. We know they are coming. And instead of an excited kindergartener looking for their mom’s car, I have found I am a angry and annoyed 12-year old full of angst as the car gets closer and closer.
This week, I’ve picked up Emily Freeman’s, “The Next Right Thing.”
Here’s what Mr. Amazon says:
If you have trouble making decisions, because of either chronic hesitation you've always lived with or a more recent onset of decision fatigue, Emily P. Freeman offers a fresh way of practicing familiar but often forgotten advice: simply do the next right thing. With this simple, soulful practice, it is possible to clear the decision-making chaos, quiet the fear of choosing wrong, and find the courage to finally decide without regret or second-guessing.
My go to decision making process is brainstorm until I have squeezed every ounce out of an idea. This requires full mental attention while doing just about everything-making coffee, doing homework with the kids, folding laundry, etc. Basically, the most present I am is with the churning and pressing of my own thoughts. I then take those ideas and poll my people. They get to hear all my great ideas and tell me what’s great and not great about them.
Then, I ask God to notarize it all.
That’s how I’ve done it for as long as I can remember. But the decision fatigue is exhausting and I can’t keep doing it this way.
Over the next 30 days, I am going to chronicle my inability turned to (hopefully) ability to meditate and listen to the Lord.
I’m not publishing these posts to social media, so if you end up here, let’s claim it as divine serendipity. I don’t need the parade of onlookers to distract me from learning to listen. I already play to the crowd enough in my life. This needs to be different.
Chapter 1:
“Unmade decisions hold power.”
