Recently I got to help host a beautiful wedding at Mavens’ Haven in Lucile. I was in a little over my head, and you might guess how this turned out. You pull whatever is needed from your magical Hermione bag and wait to unpack how you could have done it differently.
Turning 60 has me looking at how I’m using time, which certainly holds fewer possibilities. My body now disallows rollercoasters, weed whackers, and 24 hour dance marathons. Rather than having this be a detriment, I want to turn what I can do into opportunity. More than ever, it’s time to focus attention on what feels bright and alive.
Like making a pivot, this is more a process rather than knowing exactly what I’m doing in the moment. Part of why I write about this stuff is to help us all shorten that time between needing something else, becoming aware of it, and making the pivot.
Back to that wedding. Along with co-hosting, I was also officiating. While I knew this was all possible, I got too far into the day before realizing we needed more help. And then I missed the opportunities to ask for it. My error was in not slowing down enough and taking the pause to figure out how folks could help.
Part of me assumes that people will see what needs done and then do it. That is also an error. Someone had to teach me things I now take for granted. Like clean anything from the top down. What order to add ingredients to the mixing bowl. If you want glasses for 100 people, mason jars go better in the dishwasher than crystal stemware. How to reverse engineer meal preparation. How to reverse engineer anything.
Part of the missed opportunity at the wedding included showing some of this to the younger folks. What a gift—to learn and have some kitchen and hosting skills. Ironically, the key pivot would have been to slow down and give the time in order for time to move more smoothly. We get caught in this constraint a lot, where we think we’re saving time by doing it ourselves or moving quickly. Then you know…you drop the tray, splatter the sauce, give yourself a blister, go to bed dehydrated. Now factor in your longer recovery time. We are costing ourselves when we could have given something away.
If I can lecture anyone about reverse engineering, it’s definitely me. I want to get smarter about my time—predict what I need and dial in the resources. That means going slower and asking for help. It means saying no and giving someone else a chance to do the job. Then it means not feeling responsible for someone else’s work that has accommodated my “No, thank you.” That opportunity belongs to them, and I can be gracious about it.
Whatever age we’re turning into this year, our time matters, more than ever.
