The Art of Quitting

Never ever ever give up.

The infamous words of Winston Churchill were recently included in my son's handwriting work a few weeks ago.

Never ever ever give up.

I remember telling him that those words were true - when it came to the big and essential things - such as our faith, that God loves us, that He is real and life is always worth living.

But I couldn't help but think of how much these words had actually haunted me for so long as a young adult and had not served me well at all. The truth is, I actually had to learn the skill of "giving up" in the past 15 years - 10 of those being a wife and mother. I had to learned that quitting something could often be a great blessing.

Too bad I wasn't told that 20 years ago when I was a young adult and was as lost as a hen who can't find a place to nest. All my life I had been told to "dream big" and "don't give up on my dreams" and yes, to "never give up." The problem was that I had so many dreams and they were also all centered around me. I wanted to play college basketball. I wanted to be an actress in Hollywood and be famous. I wanted to own a cafe in New York City or Chicago. I wanted to be a chef. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted....so many things. To be a saint and grow in holiness through any of these dreams was not on my radar. Nor was being a wife or mother. I wasn't against those things by any means, and I supposed that marriage and motherhood would simply happen at some point, but my dreams needed to be BIG. Anyone could be married or a mother. But I was talented. I was different.

I was also a bit conceited, if you can't tell.

I spent my first two years of college at the University of Miami in Coral Gables, Florida. My older sister had gone to Notre Dame when I was in middle school, and after visiting her and attending Notre Dame football games, I couldn't wait to go to college. Growing up on a farm outside a small rural town in the Midwest, I suddenly became as desperate as George Bailey to "shake the dust of this crummy little town off my feet."

When to my own shock I did not get into Notre Dame (ahem....again, the conceit) I naturally followed my high school boyfriend to the tropics of Miami where all of my dreams of college were triumphantly and defiantly dashed. It only took the first few months to realize this place was not for me. Not. For. Me. At. All.

But. I couldn't you know....quit.

I had never quit anything in my life.

Quitting is not in the Midwestern vocabulary. One does not quit, because that would be synonymous with being a quitter - it wasn't something you did, it was who you were.

Besides, quitting isn't a virtue - but perseverance is. So, you must persevere in times of trial.

So I stayed in Miami. For two years I resolved to overcome my unhappiness for the sake of "persevering" aka I was too embarrassed to tell people I had chosen the wrong college.

Up to that point, I had not yet experienced the process of trial and error in real life. Once you made a decision, that's what you did. Forever. Or until you graduated, or another grander and greater opportunity presented itself, perhaps. Surely under no choosing of my own simply because I was unhappy, could I relieve myself of the imaginary non-negotiable contract which I had entered into.

Then one day, I realized I really was so dang unhappy. I realized, I could transfer - and transferring didn't have to be quitting. It could just be that - transferring. I realized people do this all the time. I realized people make decisions and choices that end up not being a great fit - quite often.

I realized that my idea of perseverance was not of real virtue, but of a distorted view that was more close to stubbornness.

So I transferred - and that was that. I went back to the Midwest and I was happy. The rest of my young adulthood was still filled with trials, but at least I was at home with them.

I soon learned how to quit things quite swiftly - but I no longer called it "quitting" - but rather, "pivoting." I had been determined to be a doctor. I had determined to be a triathlete. I had determined to be a religious sister. Theses were all dreams that required my own initiation to end when, in prayer and through discernment it was clear that these paths were not leading me to virtue. But I never saw myself as a quitter. I saw myself as a "let's try this and see where God leads."

Now, I also am a firm believer that one cannot simply try everything without dedicating itself to something. At some point, it is important to choose, and let God bless it.

It turns out that marriage and motherhood are certainly not things you just "try." They do involve commitment. Nevertheless, the art of quitting has proven to be very helpful to my very goal-driven self. I have learned how to "quit" many things - for the sake of learning how to be flexible, which is a very important skills when you are living with another person, and also when a child happens to throw up on your way out the door to a playdate. I often have to "quit" or "give up" the exact idea I have in my head for what this thing was going to look like. I learned to manage expectations by not holding on too tight to them.

When I learned to "quit," I learned to quit having my own way all the time. I learned to quit being so headstrong in things that didn't matter so much. I learned how to pivot and I also learned to be more receptive to the surprises that God has in store for me each day. I learned that quitting is important when avoiding sin. When we are more bent on reaching our "goal" for the hour, day, week, year, decade we can miss the ultimate goal - which is to grow in virtue.