I had the most frustrating time playing tennis yesterday.
 In certain seasons of my life I would sometimes play three or four times a week. Those seasons were not exactly times when my career was charging full-steam ahead. But my backhand was wicked!

Lately, I’ve been playing only once a week. So the first 20 minutes out there, I’m trying to remember how to play. I know in my head to keep my eye on the ball. In theory, I can swing the racquet, move my feet, and so forth. But my body is not listening to my brain’s instructions. I want to throw my racquet and stomp like John McInroe.

 It was a beautiful morning, I was with people I enjoy spending time with it. But I wasted a lot of our time worrying about how imperfectly I was playing. After a while, I ran out of negative self-talk and just let myself play badly but tried to have fun.

 I’m playing less tennis this summer because I’m writing a book, editing another book, writing magazine articles, and so on. I’m working. And when I’m not writing, I’m trying to spend time with my kids, because I’m suddenly aware that the few years I have left with them at home are precious. So, something’s gotta give. In this particular season, it’s tennis. Well, that and maybe housework. Oh, wait, I didn’t do the housework before, either. Too busy playing tennis!

 Tennis will always be there. And it is recreation, not vocation, for me.
 We Boomer Babes grew up hearing that we could have it all. “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and …” You know the rest. We could do and be everything to everyone.

 Most of us have become wise enough to at least say that we really can’t have it all. And we don’t want to be everything to everyone, that’s just too darn tiring. We say that. But living it is something else. Loosening our grip on perfectionism is not easy. And isn’t that the driving force behind our desire to “have it all”? What we really want to have is other people’s approval. We want them to marvel at us, at the way we effortlessly juggle kids, career, relationships, even fitness.

 I do believe that we can have it all… a little at a time. I’m 45, which Allison loves to point out makes me the “baby” boomer babe. My grandmothers both lived into their 90s. If genetics play as large a role in longevity as I hope and pray they do, I’ve got another 45 years to do things. To write more books. To play more tennis, if my knees hold out.

But I’ve only got this year to spend time with my kids while they are 12 and 14. and I’ve only got next year to spend with them while they are 13 and 15. I don’t get the next five years back. I can put off other projects, other accomplishments, for some other season. Not this one.

So last week, I spent the day at the beach in Chicago with my daughter, her friends and their moms. Our 14-year-old daughters parked their blankets at least 20 feet away, so we wouldn’t embarrass them. But we still had fun. Later we walked through Lincoln Park Zoo and went out to dinner. I was thankful that my daughter’s friends have moms that I enjoy spending time with.
 

This summer, I’ve had some great times with both my kids. The investment of time with my daughter, even if it wasn’t one-on-one, was worth it.

One of the things I teach when I lead retreats on pace of life is that when we say yes, to anything, it means we are saying “no” to any number of other things. And so we must choose carefully what we say yes to. Here at BBR, we’re saying “no” to blogging for a season, so that we can say yes to other things. Yes to our families, perhaps. Yes to other work projects that God has provided. Yes to sanity. (or as Allison would say, S.A.N.I.T.Y.)

 I’m still saying yes to my monthly newsletter, my “For Your Soul” column on the Christianity Today website, and my own blog. I’m saying yes to finishing a book manuscript by September, and several fall speaking gigs. I’m working with my publisher to let people know about my forth-coming book, Rest: Living in Sabbath Simplicity.

And all of us, I think, are saying yes to listening to God, and discerning his direction for every yes and no of our lives. We may not have it all (at least not all at once), but we will have all that he wants for us.

And I, for one, think that’s plenty.

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