Tough Decisions…

I believe in the power of choice. I also believe that we should take responsibility for our choices and change them when necessary. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this year about decisions and I’ve been wondering about the difference between decisions and choices. After a little research I’ve discovered there is a lot of material on this topic. Ultimately, I think choices are about options and decisions are about conclusions.

2025 has been quite a year for me as I’ve written about a few times. It’s also been a year where I’ve made three difficult decisions. After time living with the consequences I thought I’d write about them. These are mine. No one made them for me, although people influenced them. Not one of them was easy and I’m still not completely settled on all. I think it can be difficult for those outside of our decisions but peripherally impacted to see them without context, without an understanding of what led to them. While I don’t shy from sharing I do think there are times when it’s no one’s business what I’ve decided. There are other times when I don’t feel comfortable explaining myself as I don’t want to be judged. Today’s blog is about three times this year I’ve made a decision of great importance to me.

Parish

For those who aren’t aware, a parish in the Catholic faith is a geographical administration. It is within the greater area of a diocese or archdiocese. A parish is under the pastoral care of a priest and often has a council that oversees elements of the administrative and sacramental care of it’s congregation, the parishioners. Years ago I was new to a city and renting a condo temporarily. I discovered I was basically dead centre of two parishes so I went to each church over two Sundays to figure out what was “best” for me. I ended up choosing the parish that was smaller of the two. If I’m being honest, I think the “vibes” I got from each priest helped with the choice as I’m always hopeful of a connection. Other than that time, I have never searched for the right parish. I’ve always gone according to my location.

Well, 2025 changed all that. When I belong to a parish, even when I’m new to a locale, I get involved. I love volunteering and I love contributing to the community of worshippers. Where I live now was no different. I baked for fundraisers, served when asked, was a regular reader and contributed in whatever capacity was asked of me. I also attended consistently, only missing if away or ill. Being Catholic, receiving communion and participating in the mass is part of my identity. This year, I encountered serious difficulties.

In the past there have been priests who have not “fed” my soul as well as others. We’re all human and can only do our best to live and serve our faith. I believe the Church as well as the parish is not one person. It is a community built by the believers who attend and participate. So, in the past I’ve been able to look beyond a lack of connection. This year, I felt actively dismissed. Now let me be clear. For the most part I think that our feelings, in whatever situation exists, are ours. I try not to point to someone else and say, “you made me feel bad or unloved or anything”. It’s up to me to work my way through whatever I’m feeling and to take care of me. A priest has to minister to the whole flock, not just one or two and I imagine that can be very challenging.

Anyway, back to my story. I felt that it didn’t matter how much I did or how hard I tried I wasn’t wanted as part of the whole. Additionally, I felt that the efforts of the hardworking volunteers within our small parish was unvalued. I found it increasingly difficult to attend mass and almost impossible to feel connected to my faith. It impacted my spiritual and emotional health. I didn’t want to go to mass on Sunday mornings at all.

I made the decision to leave. Not the church, just that church. First, it’s a very personal decision. Second, it’s an incredibly hard decision. Third, it was the right decision. I still provide baking to the amazing team of fundraisers. I love volunteering, as I said, and I’m happy to support those people. I haven’t given up my faith and there is a part of me that is ashamed of choosing to leave based on one person. I drive a little ways now to attend mass in a different parish. Do I feel at home there? Not in the same way, although my faith feels supported. I don’t believe in “shopping” for a parish, although it seems I’ve done just that. It’s something that weighs on me and that I still have to reconcile. For now, it’s what I need.

My Son’s Life

Any parent knows that sometimes it’s really hard to stay out of your “child’s” life decisions. My son hasn’t been a child for a long time. I’m constantly blown away by how hard he works, his approach to life and his consistent drive for improvement. I also find myself in disagreement with some of his views and choices. Of course I do! We are not the same person.

As a parent, I was not perfect. None of us are. I’m sure I could fill a book with all of the bad decisions I made or the mistakes I made over the years. I think that’s normal, too. This year I made a conscious decision to back off. If I’m asked for an opinion, I will think on it and provide it BUT when I’m not asked, I’m not giving. Sounds simple.

Wow, this is anything but easy! I swear there are times I literally have to bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something. There are other times when I forget and sound off. Then I have to back away and stop talking. Oh he wants my opinions. Sometimes.

I think the biggest thing I’ve learned over the years about asking others for their thoughts or opinions is that I know immediately what I want when they say the opposite. I think that happens a lot with our kids, too. The idea that our experience matters is very fleeting. More often it’s a sounding board that’s required. Someone they can bounce ideas off of, who will love them no matter what and who will leave them be as they make a decision or choice.

That’s what I’ve been working on this year. There are times I can’t help myself. I speak up and it’s not wanted. Trying to back up from that point doesn’t always work. You can’t take back what you’ve said but…still, I try.

This has been a tough decision not because I want to control or run my son’s life but for the opposite reason. I want him to take all that he’s learned and make an amazing life for himself. The tough part? Remembering that he’s already doing that. He’s not a child no matter how he’ll always be my child. He’s a grown man in a world that is his for the taking and I want him to be incredible always.

It can be hard to stay out of someone else’s way and I think doubly so when they are your child. That’s what this decision is all about. Letting him shine for himself.

Retirement

I’ve known the date that I am able to retire with a full pension for a few years now. I started the countdown almost two years ago. So, you might wonder how I can call this a tough decision. At the beginning of the calendar year, I submitted my retirement date to the company. My director knew that I was struggling on the day I submitted so he waited a few days before reaching out to discuss. Did I really want to put my date in? As much as I appreciated the opportunity to calm down, yes, the answer was yes.

I have spent the last few years preparing for the inevitability of retirement. My mom once jokingly said no one else she knew prepared as thoroughly as me. But now it’s closer. Putting the date in was a huge step. It was in effect saying it out loud. I’m going to leave. I’m going to do this. I’m going to stop having my pay cheque every two weeks!

That’s part of the toughness. Leaving a routine that’s been my world for more than 25 years. Even though the work and the days have changed over that time, the organization has been my baseline. Walking away from the money is tough, too. Really tough. You plan. You budget. You save. And now I’m trying to figure out how to actually do it.

In the case of my three tough decisions I have to say this is the easier of them. I know it’s time. I’m ready to start something new. I’ve found a new path. I’m ready to strike out. The fear is real. The occasional burst of panic are part of life right now. It’s finding the strength to forge ahead. It’s knowing that if this new path isn’t the right one, I can try another one. It’s believing in myself.

I haven’t always done that. Believed. My self confidence has taken a lot of hits over the years. My ego and sometimes arrogance were pieces of armour I would put on to hide the squishy middle of my disbelief. I still feel unsure but I feel stronger at the core. I just have to learn how to sell the new me.

We all have tough decisions to make. Sometimes there are really big ones - walking away from harmful situations, embracing the real you, taking a chance on love. Sometimes there are smaller ones - selling a home and trying a new location, applying on a job, signing up for a group. Decisions are the conclusions we make after careful (and sometimes not) consideration. They are the results of learning what to believe in and what to walk away from.

I’m doing my best to embrace my most difficult decisions this year and let them shine in my life.

As mentioned, I’ve had a difficult time with my pool this season. It’s such a relief to go from the green on the top to the clear on the bottom in just one week!

One of the things I love most about summer is the progression of growth. I shared the picture on the top in an earlier blog - the planting of my wave petunias in early June. On the bottom is how brilliant they look today.

This year I chose mini roses for my driveway entry. It’s turned out beautifully!