“I try to say yes, unless there’s a good reason not to,” my new classmate explained to me. It was during our three-day orientation to the Masters in Divinity graduate program in which we had both enrolled, and we had been instructed to introduce ourselves to someone we hadn’t yet met and share one of the life rules we try to live by. Of course I can’t recall which life rule I chose to share, but I’ll always remember his, and especially in moments where I’m invited to make a choice where yes and no are both viable options. 

Would I like to try Octopus glazed in eel sauce? Should I go to the memorial service of my childhood best friend’s late father, even though I haven’t seen the friend in well over a decade? Can I read my daughter a book? Do I sign up to attend the continuing education event at work that sparks my interest? 

There are many reasons I could say no to any of these quandaries. Why try something slimy when I know I love a cheeseburger? Will it be awkward, or worse — intrusive — to reunite with my friend at her father’s funeral? There’s so much laundry to do and so many clients to be seen. I shouldn’t “waste” time with leisure and growth when I can be more “productive” in other ways. 

To some degree, all of my reasons for “no” have merit, and to be clear, I say no a lot. But I also try to say yes, because I think that my classmate from long ago was on to something. Yes invites opportunity. Yes implies openness. Yes allows for possibility. 

All of this — what my classmate was on to — doesn’t strike me as that far off from the way of being that Mother Mary encapsulated with her fiat. 

Mary’s Fiat

Fiat. The Latin word translates to “let it be” or “be it done,” and Mary’s fiat refers to the “yes” she gave to the angel Gabriel in the Annunciation. When Mary agreed to become the mother of Jesus, she changed the world, and as she did so, she demonstrated complete trust, surrender to God’s will, and openness to the future unknown. 

Mary’s fiat was a singular event (granted, one that changed the course of human history), but to me, it’s more than that. Mary’s fiat captures a spirit that transcends the particular moment in which she said yes, and it’s a spirit that I believe all the faithful are called to participate in. We are all called to trust God, to let go of our own agendas, and to say yes to possibilities.  

Reflecting on My Yes’s 

Over the years, I’ve found that it is a helpful spiritual practice for me to do an examen of sorts, and to look back on the ways that I have or have not fulfilled a particular calling of my faith. Sometimes this means doing an intensive examination of conscience while holding the ten commandments in mind; other times it means asking myself how I am or am not living out the Corporal Works of Mercy. Still others, it means close reading a book of or passage from the Bible and considering my life through that lens. 

This kind of reflection, guided by prayer, helps me to take a good look at myself and commit to reinforcing positive behaviors and thought patterns and decreasing negative ones. It helps me notice the ways that I’ve fallen short and it helps me feel energized to do more of what aligns with my morals and my faith. 

With that in mind, I’d like to invite you to join me in reflecting on times that you’ve said yes, to a fellow human being or to God (and it’s my belief than when we say yes to others, we’re often saying yes to God). 

Here are some of mine:

I went back to school.

In the early days of the pandemic, my husband and I both came to the jolting realization that our career futures may not be what we thought they would be. It was panic-inducing, to say the least, but by the grace of God, we had the wherewithal to do some quick recalculations and to act fast. In April of 2020, I applied for a masters degree that would set me up to do work that I had long felt a tug towards, and several months later I began the program. It was scary to begin school as a parent of an infant and a toddler, and it was scary to spend so much of our family’s resources on a degree at this phase of life. I was tempted to say no. But five years later, not a day goes by that I don’t feel convicted that I am doing the work God has called me to.

I hosted a neighborhood gathering

I heard the term “hostess neurosis” on a podcast recently, and I immediately thought, “Yes, that’s me.” I tend to get a tad bit neurotic when people come over to my home. I want the house perfectly tidy and clean, I want the food coming out of the oven at the exactly right time, and I want everyone to be having an superb time at all times. For this reason, I used to feel consistently un-inclined to invite folks over. But then, a couple years ago, I just had the distinct sense that I should be acting differently. I value community, I value neighborly-ness, and I value friendship. It was time to say yes to hosting. Doing so has transformed my experience of our community and my place in it. 

I cuddle my kids

There are many things I love about being a parent, but the top one is probably cuddling with my kids. I love it when they come to wake me up in the morning and hop in bed for a few minutes. I love it when I’m sitting on the floor and they run up to plop in my lap. I love it when they cozy up next to me on the couch. Sometimes, I was about to get up to wash the dishes. Sometimes, I was in the middle of reading a book or magazine. Sometimes, I had plans to call my sister. But I will always, always say yes to cuddling because it’s a way of physically, tangibly loving my children and feeling their love for me. 

Yes.

As we celebrate today the Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, may we remember the way of Mary and may we, too, say yes to the life that is in front of us. God is there.