I’VE BEEN BUSY;
THAT’S WHY
A Widow Bit – Feb. 22, 2009
By Mary Koch

            Lent is approaching, and I choose to follow the old-fashioned tradition of giving something up for those 40 days and nights. This year’s self-imposed discipline directly connects with the fact that I haven’t written one of these little essays in over a month.

            I could claim writer’s block, but in reality, I’m suffering from busyness block.

            What is it that makes certain of us wave our hands in the air with excited abandon whenever anyone calls for volunteers? Could it be a concern that, “If I don’t do it, no one will” – a concern that reflects a certain lack of trust?

            Chronic volunteerism is a dangerous, although not common, virus. If you’re at all susceptible, don’t settle in a small town and don’t join a church. The exposure is too great.

            A sense of community nurtures volunteerism like bacteria in a petri dish. Addicted volunteers are vulnerable to any germ of an idea that would make the world, especially their corner of it, a better place.

            Altruism is addictive. A project succeeds. You realize you made a difference. Your ego is well massaged. So you sign up for two more good works. Then four. Then eight. Sooner or later you burn out.

            I’m not to burn-out stage. Yet. But I realize that this pitched-fever with which I’ve been volunteering is a dangerous symptom. It has absorbed every brain cell. There’s no time for reflection, no time to write anything except flurries of news releases and e-mails.

            “You  never stop!” a friend gasped. She’s right. I’m “on it” from the time I get up until the time I go to bed.

             I’m not the only one. Post-retirement people especially, I’ve observed, load their plates to the cracking point. Yesterday, as I was finishing up one volunteer stint, I was discussing another with a “retired” friend who serves on a non-profit board with me. He was describing his upcoming week: a scholarship committee meeting, a church gathering and the board work we share.

            Certainly part of what motivates many of us is self-confidence. We’ve devoted a lifetime to honing our skills, and we’re well aware of what we can do. We know how to get the job done, and there’s a delicious freedom in doing it without pay.

            I am not retired, but I also do not work full-time – more’s the pity. So I tell myself I have time to sign up for this and that. I’ve said yes to too many things, and now I’m bumping into the hard truth that my time is not infinite.

            Two years ago, I gave up perfectionism for Lent. It was an ideal discipline, because I could not do it perfectly. Last year, I decided to give up being judgmental. I confided as much to a friend. “Good luck,” she chuckled, and I immediately judged her skepticism.

            This year, I’m giving up the word “yes.” I’ll do about as well as I did with perfection and judgment. But it beats giving up chocolate.