Decisions–we can’t get through life without making them. Some decisions are fun, like deciding on the color of a dress or whether to plant impatiens or begonias. Some decisions can be changed–the dress and flowers, for instance. But some decisions are pretty much forever and have far-reaching consequences. A few choices we are called upon to make can never be undone; that’s the kind that keep me up at night and cause my silver crown to grow even whiter. I don’t like that responsibility but when it’s plain it is something I can’t run from, I pray, talk it over with friends and family if possible, and hope for the best. The best is having peace with the choice I’ve made and hoping that I don’t suffer severe regrets when it is too late to un-do it.
But, I am a procrastinator and, boy, am I good at that. Deciding not to decide is a decision in itself, isn’t it?
What do you do when it seems an awfully lot depends upon your resolution? How do you decide and choose between or among options? Are you the methodical sort who makes a list, one entitled pro and the other, con? Can you sensibly and creatively add them up and see which column is longer? Do you choose with your mind or do you choose with your heart?
To me, the conflict comes when the sensible way is directly opposed to the emotional way. Now, that’s a dilemma.
No one can get through life without making choices. As I look back at the years and decisions I’ve been called upon to make, I am happy with some and sad about others. I’ve heard people say if they had life to live over, they’d live it in the very same way. All I can say to that is it must be nice to be perfect. If I had life to re-live, I can think of any number of things I’d do differently. I’m all for second chances. 
I guess I should be thankful to have the option for options! In some situations, people never get to choose for themselves; it is done for them. Are they happier? Or, resentful? So, I’m glad to have options, to be able to think about situations and pray for a good outcome. My hope is to stride confidently down the road I’ve chosen and have the good sense and the will power not to look back.
As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “This new day is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.”
A Fun Fact about the Author: One of the most satisfying memories of my childhood was watching Dad at milking time in the barn as he sat on a milking stool by a jersey cow and directed two warm streams of milk into a stainless steel bucket, the foam rising up and the sound changing from a thin swish into a rich, sudsy swoosh as the bucket filled.
Daddy added on to your memory…and then the nice Jersey cow lifts her foot and puts it in the bucket!” He’s certain they do it on purpose!
I certainly had to watch the cow and be ready to scoot that bucket out from under! Best to keep the bucket between my knees, so I could just pivot on the three-legged stool. Of course, sometimes the stool would topple and milker and bucket would hit the deck! Then, of course, there was the cow’s tail which sometimes had cockle burrs in it. She’d swish that tail, so I had to keep an eye on tail, feet, milk bucket, and hope she didn’t finish eating before I finished milking. Oh! And her eyes! If she turned her head and had a certain glint in her eyes, I knew she was thinking of how I’d look with milk all over me and the bucket upside down. Yes, milking time on the farm was a fun, learning, exhilarating experience designed to build stamina, patience, and sharpen that old alertness gene. (Full Disclosure Statement: In the interest ofTruth and Honesty, Dad did most of the milking. I couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of it, luckily.)