It’s almost always worth saying yes — to the difficult, less comfortable thing

It’s always a good day when you can impress an adult daughter.

“I’d like to go to church. Does anyone want to go with me?” Emily, our middle daughter, sounded hopeful, but I’m sure she knew it was unlikely anyone would join her.

Church on Christmas morning isn’t part of our family or Mennonite traditions, and it’s hard to leave a kitchen full of family, hot tea and coffee, and Paul, my husband, making pancakes.

Everyone else sipped their drinks and quietly demurred. I wanted to curl up on the couch and approach the day gradually like the others, but I pictured Emily driving to Corvallis by herself. I could easily change into a nice black skirt and boots, and I knew that Jenny, our capable youngest, was preparing Christmas dinner.

“I’ll go with you!” I said.

We slipped out into the chilly gray morning and drove the half hour to Christ Central, an Anglican church in Corvallis. With about 40 others, we listened to Scriptures, sang hymns, prayed, and joined in the replies in bold type in the printed program, grounding our souls in the spiritual foundation of the holiday.

“What made you say yes?” Emily asked as we drove home. “I’m guessing you would have preferred to stay home and relax. Is there a magic ‘Mom’ thing that happens when you have children that makes you say yes when your kids want you to do something with them, even if you don’t feel like it?”

All her life, Emily has been asking the questions that no one else, including myself, ever thinks to ask.

After some thought, I said, “I’ve found that I regret saying no more than I regret saying yes. Often, if I say no to trying something new, or going somewhere with Paul or you kids or friends because I’m tired or I don’t feel well, I wish afterward I’d done it anyhow. And I wish I would have said yes to more of your impulsive ideas when you guys were little — like slumber parties with the cousins and swimming in the creek, even if it was a lot of work and messed up my plans. So now I try to say yes.”

She thought that was profound, which was one of the best gifts she could give me. She might even take it on as a life philosophy of her own.

As the year draws to a close, our conversation made me think about the things I said yes to in 2025, and why.

Hiking at Crater Lake, for instance. Paul and I took an overnight trip to celebrate our anniversary, planning to stay in a historic hotel and then take a boat tour of the lake. Paul had miraculously found tickets for the boat ride despite the fact that, we were told, they were harder to find than tickets for Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour.

The hike from the lake back up to the rim is so difficult that signs at the top warn visitors not to descend the path if they have breathing issues or other limitations. Furthermore, it was supposed to be one of the hottest days of the year. I had hardly slept the night before, thanks to a noisy vintage air conditioner.

Was I crazy to attempt the hike? I was tired, I have asthma, and the heat would be brutal. I’d be justified in saying no.

I said yes instead.

The boat tour provided a phenomenal perspective, and the hike back up the side of the caldera was as difficult as I expected. We stopped often to drink water and rest, and eventually we made it. Looking back now, I am insanely proud of myself, and I don’t regret that yes.

I also don’t regret riding on a combine with Emily during harvest, hosting dinner and overnight guests, and organizing a fabric sale with my neighbor and friend, Simone. There was the evening I said yes to a walk with Paul when I would rather have finished cooking dinner, and we saw one of the most astonishing sunsets I’ve ever seen.

This was the year for saying yes to new ventures, such as mentoring a younger mom, writing for Lookout, and developing a platform on Substack. I learned to bake with sourdough, grew new varieties of dahlias, and tried an embroidery technique called sashiko, stitching a simple design in white on a denim jumper.

Sometimes, I had to say no to some things in order to say yes to others. Cutting gluten and sugar out of my diet was daunting, but it improved my asthma and overall health, leading to travel, hikes and speaking engagements I couldn’t have taken on a year ago.

By far the lowest point of the year was the passing of our youngest son, Steven, in early November. He was our only child by adoption, and I questioned all the choices that had brought him to our family. Would it have been better to say no to that sweet little orphan in Kenya, back in 2004, to spare us this agony now?

No, I concluded, over and over. Saying yes to action, to investment, to scary ventures and to loving another person is almost always far more difficult than saying no, and doing nothing, or relaxing, or staying home where it’s warm and the tea is hot. The rewards of my choices are proportional to their difficulty. Loving Steven was an honor, and being his mom a privilege, even with his untimely end. It was all worth the yes.

Despite the risks and unknowns and effort, I look forward to saying yes to more going, doing and loving in 2026.