I opened the door and two friends looked up from tagging jewelry in the Mercy House building that sits in my backyard. Both pregnant with eight month swollen bellies touching the table in front of them, both serving on a Thursday night, both due within a couple of days of each other.
I handed them a list and paused when one of my friends asked, “Do you ever get tired of saying yes?”
It’s one of those heavy questions.
It’s hard to answer.
It changes every day.
It doesn’t change at all.
My yes to God isn’t what I thought it would be.
But is it ever? Our any of the yes’ we say in this life safe and fun and everything we’d hoped they would be? God has a way or shielding us from seeing and knowing too much.
My yes to marriage isn’t what I thought it would be. It has been harder and better than I ever dreamed.
My yes to motherhood has been filled with my most challenging moments and also my proudest. How can we know what that tiny baby will do to us?
When we say yes to marriage, to parenthood, to God, what we are really saying is, I am committed.
Because we don’t know how long the nights will be,
Or how far love will take us or how quickly the feelings will flee,
We aren’t promised our babies will be born healthy or stay that way,
We don’t know unemployment is around the bend, with grouchy teens and sleepless nights.
We can’t imagine our yes will take us back to the slum that broke our hearts again and again.
Yes is our choice to live.
Sometimes there’s a long pause between the question and answer.
It might be heartache.
Doubt and disbelief.
It could be weariness.
“I do. I get tired of my yes,” I answered my friend after a long pause. “But my yes in the good times, the bad times, the ups and downs, the beauty and the ashes, still means yes.”
No matter what.
Because where my yes ends, He begins.