When I don't know what to do-
I do this.
A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with my sister, Jenny, feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t know what to do, and the things I did want to do didn’t fit into a very tight schedule that apparently wasn’t all that tight because all I was doing was sitting in a chair feeling sorry for myself about wanting to do things that didn’t fit into a tight schedule.
My grief over my father comes in waves, and the waves are unpredictable. When it hits, it capsizes my canoe and all I can do is tread water and wait until the choppy waters subside. Maybe by afternoon. Maybe in a month. When the waves recede, I climb back in, put on dry clothes, and attempt to row quickly to make up for lost time. But sometimes I look around and think, Wait, where am I going again?
I was in one of those moments while talking to my sister, and with her guidance (she is Planner Perfect, after all), we decided my first step was to plot out what my short term goals/desires were for this professionally exciting but personally excruciating season in my life – and to chart out a manageable weekly schedule that made room for unexpected rip tides that could pull me in.
But as we got off the phone, I looked at the blank page and blinked. I didn’t know what to do.
So, I got up and decided to make my neighbor, who just broke her leg, some pumpkin bread.
When I don’t know what to do, I do something for someone else.
I should note, after I was done with the pumpkin bread for someone else, I decided to go on a baking bender for no one in particular.
Jenny checked in four hours later with a text, “Make any progress?”
And I responded with a picture of hamburger buns I just pulled out of the oven (but why?) that read, This is what I do when I don’t know what to do and don’t have time for anything. For more tips on how to be productive follow me on Instagram.
One could argue that I’m not helping as much as I’m just desperate for a distraction. Maybe, so what? The end result - doing good for someone else – is present just the same.
Maybe I’ll help them organize their closet. Make them lunch.
Maybe I’ll write someone a funny card encouraging them. Or help set up a website.
I give what I need most. Attention, affection, comfort, encouragement, laughter, resources, energy. Then somehow, and it’s weird, I feel fulfilled. Like gravity, I don’t know how it works, it just does.
Obviously, it’s a bit of selfishness, wrapped around good deeds. And sure, it could be a distraction, but not in a depressing way like scrolling through TikTok for five hours. It’s different—it pulls me out of myself, my self-pity, my frustration. It gives me a reprieve from my obsession with my problems and puts destructive energy to good use.
Have you ever noticed the more we focus on ourselves the more we lose ourselves? We are so complex – built with a natural selfishness, that if we indulge, makes us go insane.
I despise the feeling. So, I use the only tool in my toolbox that works. I divert my attention. I help.
But like all things, I should tread carefully. There’s a thin, nearly invisible line between taking a break from my self-centeredness— and running from myself. A huge but barely perceptible difference between transforming discomfort into service— and fleeing my calling, my responsibilities, my duties, because I can’t face the pain of grief, growth, maturity, disappointment, and all the temporary suffering we must endure if we are to follow God’s breadcrumbs to where we’re being drawn.
And yet, if I keep an eye on myself and make sure my motive isn’t to run away from me, but to run towards you, I know I’ll stay within the right lines. When I don’t know what to do, I’ll help you. When I don’t know what to write, I’ll write for you. When I don’t know if I should go left or right, I’ll stand in the middle and bake you a pie.
Eventually, when the choppy waves of the self-involved mind have no choice but to calm because no one’s around to witness its thrashing— it tires, easing itself into soothing waters. Allowing me to see more clearly, until I notice a possible path just ahead. Never early, but right on time, it reveals itself. Gentle, calm.
Then, and only then, can I turn my canoe upright, pull myself in. Put on warm, dry clothes. And paddle, nice and easy once again, to where I’m being drawn.
Have we met? I’m Anna Lind Thomas, a humor writer out of Omaha, Nebraska. I’m on the shortlist of USA Today’s top ten funniest women writers, and author of the best selling book We’ll Laugh About This (Someday) and my latest - I’m Not Ready for This. I perform hilarious and inspirational speeches (and readings) regularly at both secular and Christian events. Reach out to book me for your next event here, and don’t forget to say hi on Facebook and Instagram.
What a great read! I too have experienced the benefit of doing something for someone else and it making me feel better too!