“I don’t want to do it,” I said, my five-year old blond head shaking emphatically. “Tell them that I said ‘no thank you.’”
My mother had one hand covering the mouthpiece of our avocado
green phone, while the other twirled the cord that was stretched from the
kitchen wall. “Are you sure?” she asked,
her eyebrows raised. I nodded. “All right, then.” She returned to her phone call. “She says she would rather not play Mary.” She went on to let them know that I would
still participate in the St. Michael’s Christmas pageant, but would just prefer
a smaller role.
I remember this scene so vividly because it’s my earliest
memory of what has turned into a lifetime of indecisiveness. To this day, I struggle with most decisions;
whether it’s something as small as what I’ve chosen to wear, to something as
large as where I’ve chosen to live, I’m wracked with the tendency to second-guess
myself. That day in 1980, I turned my
attention back to my toys after my mother hung up the phone, but already,
uncertainty was creeping in. Had I said
no too quickly? Could I take on this
responsibility after all? All afternoon
and evening I pondered the opportunity from every angle, and by the next
morning, I had had a change of heart.
Being Mary had turned into something exciting. I thought I could do it after all. And
I would get to hold a baby doll and pretend like I was a mother. I should have said yes in the first place.
At the breakfast table, I shared this exciting revelation with
my mother while eating my Cheerios.
“I’ve changed my mind. I think I will be Mary.”
“No, you won’t,” she replied.
“They’ve already given it to someone else.”
And just like that, my dreams vanished. In the following weeks, I participated in the
rehearsals, silently watching Mary, wishing that it was I in the costume
instead. I beat myself up over my rash
decision, wishing I could turn back time and give a different answer. Why had I doubted myself? Why hadn’t I said yes?
And then – opportunity came knocking once more. The night before the pageant, our same
avocado green phone rang. My mother
answered it, and then turned to me. “It
seems that Mary has come down with the chicken pox,” she informed me. “They need someone to step in. Will you do it? Would you like to be Mary?”
I had been given a second chance. And this time, I was sure about my
answer. I felt that same sense of calm in my soul that
I have only after praying for confirmation from God that my choice is indeed
the right one. I felt His blessing. And on the big day, He was with me, giving me
the confidence and peace that only He can provide. Because I said yes.
Thirty years later, at our same beloved Saint Michael’s,
history repeated itself in a way. I
waited outside my daughter’s Sunday School classroom, and watched as a dozen or
so kindergartners emerged through the doorway, bursting with excitement after
receiving their assignments for the upcoming pageant. “I’m a wise man!” one announced. “I’m an angel!” said another.
Our five-year old Susanna looked up at me with her signature serene
smile. And then, quietly enough that I
had to bend down to hear her, she said, “I’m going to be Mary.”
Our shy, reserved, attention-avoiding daughter had done what
I couldn’t do three decades earlier. She
was asked, and she didn’t hesitate. She
didn’t doubt. She said yes.
Weeks later, I watched our daughter at the pageant, dressed perhaps
in the same veil and robe that I had worn when I was her size, and marveled at
her. There was no trace of the
uncertainty that I had had in myself. No
sign of nerves or indecisiveness. Our
daughter – the same little girl who was so terrified on her first day of school
three months prior that I had to pick her up early – was now confidently
walking down that long aisle with hundreds of pairs of eyes focused on
her. Sitting in my pew, I was reminded
of what the Bible tells us: that God
will equip us with everything good so that we may do His will. God was with Susanna that morning. Because she said yes.
A common question often surfaces during Advent among believers:
what would you do if put in Mary’s
shoes? How would you respond? Would you say yes?
I know my answer, for I lived it. I was asked, and I hesitated. I lacked the faith to know that God would
equip me with everything I needed. But
once I opened myself up to the opportunity, He found me. Just as He found and equipped my daughter,
and just as He found and equipped a poor teenage girl thousands of years ago. He
will, we Christians believe, find all of us.
All we have to do is say yes.
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