by Mindy Misener
Given that it’s been over two weeks since my second Covid-19 shot, I am now planning—if not participating in—events like maskless visits with friends, family vacations, even a dinner date in a well-ventilated space. I am thrilled by these new options and, truth be told, sometimes a little overwhelmed. I still have questions about what to do. Should I take my 10-month old on a plane? Ask friends about their vaccination status before having them in my house? What about being maskless with those too young to get a vaccine, or unable for some other reason?
Since the beginning of the pandemic, we have all been awash in both information and opinions. Putting aside conspiracy theories and egregious misinformation, it’s worth noting that even people who share a very basic set of facts can arrive at very different decisions. I would like to think the decisions I made over the last year were the right ones, but I can’t say that for sure. Maybe I should have relaxed my rules. Maybe I should have taken more precautions.
I hope that the days of making such choices will be over soon. That said, even if I’m not debating mask use in social settings next year, I’ll still have difficult decisions to make—decisions whose moral and ethical implications are unclear. The truth is, these kinds of questions hover over all of our lives. Should I go to college? Propose? Have children? Change jobs? Retire? Move? Try another round of chemo?
Such decisions are not easy, but I can make them extra hard by pressuring myself—or allowing myself to give in to societal pressure—to get them “right.” When I feel myself cracking under this pressure, I try to remember a TED talk I saw a few years ago. In the talk, philosopher Ruth Chang challenges us to reconsider such decisions, not as right or wrong, but as a way to determine who we are. Framing life decisions this way helps me get away from the fear of a splashy X in divine red ink—Wrong! It also gives me the chance to step back and ask myself, “What do I even mean by a ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ decision?” On a knee-jerk level, I consider a “right” decision to be one that brings me a measure of pleasure, confidence, or peace. A “wrong” decision, on the other hand, leads to difficulty, regret, or pain.
Once I can see the simplistic way I’m defining “right” and “wrong” decisions, I can start asking myself other questions: Isn’t difficulty instructive? Can’t regret shape my character? Haven’t some of the most painful things in my life been the most rewarding? What’s so terrible about being “wrong”?
Then, and only then, can I start getting creative with the decision-making process, seeing it as an opportunity for a kind of sacred play—whole-life play—rather than a test of whether I’m doing life right. Then, and only then, can I remember that God is not hovering over my days with a red pen in hand, but giving me an array of drawing tools and endless reams of paper on which I can make, and make, and make my life anew.
— Mindy Misener teaches creative writing at Montana State University
and serves as Pilgrim's 2021 stewardship chair