Choose the Better Part: Confessions of an Anxious Birthday Girl
Guest Post by Rachel G. Vick
A little while ago, I celebrated my birthday. I have a thing about birthdays —it’s not just a day. It’s a birthday week. I love birthdays. My husband and my closest friends benefit from this because I spend an inordinate amount of time concocting the best birthday ever, listening to and taking note of their every desire for months beforehand, buying that thing they mentioned three months and six days ago, cooking every favorite meal, and making sure they get sung to over a lit candle in whatever decadent dessert they favor. Their every desire is mine to fulfill.
Typically, I expect those around me to go unreasonably big for my birthday too (I’d love to say I’m low-maintenance, but it would be a blatant lie), but this year I shared with my husband Jackson that I wanted to keep my birthday celebration small and intimate, relaxed and low-key. Just six of my close friends and a relaxed, homey gathering.
My birthday week went sweetly by, leading up to the dinner party we’d talked about when, just a day or two before the celebration, I learned from Jackson that he had secretly planned a much larger gathering. I felt so loved that he put in the eort to make my birthday extra special and gather all the nearby people who I love and love me in return into one room. (Later on, I would learn that he had roped them all into a group gift of a new Kindle and all its accessories since I’d given mine away a couple months ago. Well, to be completely honest, the Kindle wasn’t a complete surprise to me. Unfortunately, I’m not an easy one to catch o guard.) And while I felt so loved, at the same time, I felt an anxiety easing its way into my chest. I love hosting people in our house. I love gathering around our table, feeding our bellies and our souls simultaneously. Table fellowship is a sacred practice to me.
However, I have been learning lately how to let go of my desire for perfection as a hostess and choose to be present instead, even if the house isn’t in pristine condition, even if every time I tidy one area, another is being destroyed by my toddlers, even if the food isn’t ready on time or didn’t turn out how I expected, even if there’s a pile of laundry still sitting on that chair in the guest room.
These things don’t come easily to me, though, choosing presence over perfection.
So, when I learned that this small, intimate, relaxed gathering was instead going to be a crowd of children and adults crammed into our house, anxiety came knocking, whispering, breaking in and stealing my joy. Now the main entree needed to feed that many more mouths, more food allergies—and we were having creamy, cheesy pasta, of all things! I had to prepare the house for a gang of kids under six to wreak havoc. And I had to figure out how to be present to this celebration while also carrying the mental load of hosting.
How many people would I be playing hostess to? How many needs crammed into one room? How much more pasta should I buy and cook? Could I nd dairy-free cheese in time? How long would it take to clean up afterwards? Could I rest and enjoy myself while also being a good hostess?
The morning of, my anxiety grew. I know it might seem silly to some of you, but, unfortunately, this is how my mind and soul work. I could feel the stress growing, but I wanted to let it go and enjoy myself. I wanted to be free from it. It was my birthday, after all! I wanted to be present to God and how He planned to celebrate me through the friends He’s gifted me. I wanted to delight in the love being shown me on my birthday.
Just before I left for a meeting in town, I took thirty minutes to spend in solitude—“practicing presence” is how I actually prefer to put it. A time to silence external and internal inputs and abide in the love of the Trinity. I brought my messy, anxious soul into the fellowship I have with my Father, Jesus, and the Spirit, and said, “What do I do with this?”
I picture myself here with a handful of tangled strings, too intertwined for me to resolve alone, to nd the beginning and the end and separate one thread from another. I hold them up to Him. “What do I do with this mess?”
God doesn’t always respond to me in the moment. Sometimes it takes days, months, even years. But today He knew I needed to hear from Him.
I felt His Spirit whisper something like this:
“Tonight is a time to choose the better part, like Mary. Hand off the responsibility of hosting to Jackson. Let him be Martha this evening. You be Mary, sit at the feet of your friends, and delight in My love for you displayed in them.”
“Choose the better part.”
Be present to the people around you. Be present to Jesus in the room. Be present to the Spirit at work in the midst of us.
This phrase has come to mind again and again since that day.
When my thoughts run away from me, trying and failing to grasp tightly to control by planning every moment of the day, I hear, “Choose the better part.”
When I’m trying to practice presence, but the to-do list hangs overhead, I hear, “Choose the better part.” When the house is a mess, but Phin and Archie (my boys) need my attention, I hear, “Choose the better part.”
When guests are over and I’m trying to host while staying on top of the mess, I hear, “Choose the better part.”
When I’m racing the clock to accomplish all I want to do in a day, I pause and sit down, and I hear, “Choose the better part.”
So, I’m choosing the better part. I’m sitting at Jesus’ feet, whatever that position looks like today. Sometimes, I run and let my anxiety and need to control take the reins, but more and more these days, I’m responding to the Spirit’s whisper, “Choose the better part.”
Rachel Vick is Jersey girl, born and raised, who left her roots to live a little bit of everywhere with her husband and two sons. She loves reading novels, spending summer days on the lake with her boys, pasta, gathering around the table with old & new friends, dating her husband, traveling, and engaging in deep, meaningful conversation.
Slowly, slowly, the Spirit has been inviting her into deeper intimacy with Him. Her heart has heard Him say, “Come and talk with me,” and her heart is responding, “Lord, I am coming.” Writing letters of vulnerable friendship has been the overflow of this intimacy.
You can find Rachel on Instagram @_mydearestfriend_ and Substack.
These wise words are resonating as the big 7-0 arrives in just a few weeks!