The Grace of Accepting What You Need
by Rev. Sheri Spiritual teacher, writer, and founder of Angel Messenger
Sometimes, accepting our limitations can be a humbling experience.
I have been learning this lesson again recently as my husband and I have been planning our 25th wedding anniversary trip.
Twenty-five years feels like something worth celebrating. We have been looking at different places we could go and different experiences we could have, and one of my oldest friends suggested Disney.
On the surface, that might sound like just another vacation idea.
But for me, it wasn’t.
She and her husband are both childhood friends of ours. They were part of our wedding twenty-five years ago, and they even went on our honeymoon with us. They have been woven into the story of our marriage from its very beginning.
My friend also happens to be something of a Disney expert. She has been many times, knows how to navigate it, and genuinely loves it. So when she suggested that the four of us go together for our anniversary, it actually made a wonderful kind of sense.
If we were ever going to do Disney, this is how I would want to do it—with them.
And there is another reason the idea tugged especially hard at my heart.
My friend is living with incurable breast cancer.
That is something that is incredibly difficult for my husband and me because we love her very much. And because she and her husband live in Georgia while we live in Michigan, we don’t have the luxury of seeing each other whenever we want. Time together requires travel and planning, which makes the opportunities we do have feel even more precious.
So this wasn’t simply a matter of deciding whether Disney sounded fun.
Part of me really wanted to say yes.
I wanted the memories. I wanted the experience. But more than anything, I wanted the time with our friends.
Maybe that is why accepting this particular limitation has been harder than I expected.
If Disney were simply a place I wanted to visit, I could tell myself that there are plenty of other places to go. But this idea had people I love attached to it. It represented time together that isn’t easy for us to come by.
And sometimes that is what makes accepting our limitations so painful.
We aren’t always giving up just an activity or an experience.
Sometimes we are giving up a memory we had already begun imagining.
Recently, my husband and I went away for just one night. We did some shopping and a few other things, and we had a nice time. It wasn’t an enormous trip or anything particularly strenuous.
And yet, afterward, my body was incredibly sore and exhausted.
It forced me to confront something I didn’t particularly want to confront.
My body simply isn’t strong enough for Disney.
I could research accommodations. I could look for ways to make it easier. I could try to plan more rest. I could probably find ways to push myself through parts of it.
But eventually I had to ask myself whether I was trying to accommodate my limitations—or refusing to accept them.
There is a difference.
And that realization hurt.
Because sometimes accepting a limitation isn’t simply about giving up an activity.
Sometimes there is something meaningful attached to the thing we have to let go.
A memory we wanted to make.
Time we wanted to spend with someone we love.
A version of ourselves we wish we could still be.
A picture in our minds of how something important was supposed to happen.
There was another practical reality to accept, too. The kind of Disney trip we would want for our anniversary would stretch beyond the budget we had set for ourselves.
My mind understood all of these reasons.
My heart was having a harder time with them.
And somewhere in all of this planning, I began to realize that perhaps the lesson wasn’t really about Disney at all.
Perhaps it was about grace.
Grace for the Person I Am Today
We talk often about extending grace to other people.
We understand that someone who is grieving may need more patience. Someone who is overwhelmed may need help. Someone who is exhausted may need rest.
Yet we can be remarkably unforgiving when the person who needs that understanding is ourselves.
We tell ourselves we should be able to do more.
We remember what we used to be able to do.
We compare ourselves to other people.
We become frustrated when our bodies, our finances, our emotional reserves, or our circumstances don’t cooperate with what we had planned.
Sometimes we even treat our limitations like personal failures.
But they aren’t.
There is a difference between giving up on ourselves and listening to ourselves.
And perhaps part of growing in wisdom is learning to recognize that difference.
For me, accepting what I need right now may mean planning an anniversary trip that looks less like an adventure and more like a retreat.
Maybe instead of spending days rushing from one attraction to another, our celebration needs to include a beautiful room, slow mornings, a little shopping, a wonderful dinner, time together, and plenty of opportunities to rest.
Maybe I don’t need to come home from our anniversary needing another vacation to recover from the vacation.
And when I really think about it, that doesn’t sound like a lesser celebration.
It sounds rather lovely.
But recognizing that doesn’t erase the disappointment.
And perhaps it isn’t supposed to.
Sometimes Acceptance Includes Grief
I think this is something we don’t talk about enough.
We can accept something and still be sad about it.
Grace doesn’t require us to pretend we aren’t disappointed.
In fact, as I sit here writing these words, there are tears running down my face.
I don’t think I realized until I began writing this article how much grief I was carrying about this decision.
I thought I was disappointed about a vacation.
But I’m realizing that it was never really about Disney.
It was about imagining the four of us together again, twenty-five years after they stood beside us at our wedding and shared our honeymoon. It was about making another memory with people who have been part of our lives for so long. It was about knowing that my friend’s time is precious and wanting, desperately, to make the most of the time we still have together.
And it hurts to admit that my body cannot do what my heart wants so badly to do.
Maybe you’ve experienced something like that, too.
Sometimes we don’t even realize we are grieving until something opens the door.
We think we’ve accepted something because we understand it logically. We can list all the reasons. We can explain why the decision makes sense.
But understanding something and grieving it are two different things.
I know Disney isn’t the right choice for my body.
I know it would also stretch our budget beyond where it should go.
I know choosing something restful for our anniversary is probably the wiser decision.
And I am still crying.
Both things can be true.
Perhaps that is part of accepting our limitations with grace, too.
We don’t have to scold ourselves out of disappointment.
We don’t have to immediately find the silver lining.
Sometimes we can simply acknowledge:
I really wanted this.
It meant more to me than I realized.
I wish things were different.
I’m sad that they aren’t.
And then, when we’re ready, we can begin looking toward what is still possible.
Acceptance isn’t pretending that something doesn’t hurt.
It isn’t convincing ourselves that we never wanted it anyway.
And it isn’t gratitude used as a weapon against our own disappointment: You should just be grateful for what you have.
We can be grateful and disappointed.
We can understand and still grieve.
We can know we are making the right decision and still wish we didn’t have to make it.
Grace gives us room for all of that.
A Slower Life Is Not a Smaller Life
I think many of us have absorbed the idea that a meaningful life should be full.
Full calendars.
Full vacations.
Full weekends.
Full days.
There is always somewhere else to go, something else to experience, another thing we should accomplish before the day is over.
And when we can’t keep up with that pace, it is easy to feel as though we are somehow missing out.
But perhaps we have confused full with meaningful.
A quiet afternoon with someone you love can be meaningful.
Sitting somewhere beautiful can be meaningful.
Sleeping late because your body desperately needs the rest can be meaningful.
Canceling something because you have reached your limit can be an act of wisdom.
Choosing what restores you instead of what impresses other people can be an act of self-respect.
Rest can be part of the experience.
Recovery can be part of the celebration.
A slower life does not have to be a smaller life.
Sometimes slowing down allows us to notice more of the life that is already happening around us.
Perhaps this is something our culture doesn’t always teach us very well.
We celebrate pushing through.
We admire productivity.
We talk about making the most of every minute.
But sometimes making the most of a moment means not filling it.
Sometimes the most loving thing we can do for ourselves is leave some empty space.
Your Limitations May Look Different Than Mine
Maybe physical limitations aren’t something you struggle with.
But most of us eventually encounter seasons when we cannot carry everything we wish we could.
Perhaps you are grieving, and ordinary things require more energy than they once did.
Perhaps you are caring for someone you love and have very little left at the end of the day.
Perhaps money is tight, and you are having to say no to things you desperately wish you could say yes to.
Perhaps you are emotionally exhausted.
Perhaps you are healing.
Perhaps you have simply been trying to be everything to everyone for far too long.
Whatever the reason, you may find yourself standing in that uncomfortable space between what you wish you could do and what you genuinely have the capacity to do.
When that happens, I hope you will remember that accepting your limitations does not mean surrendering your dreams.
It means meeting yourself where you are.
There may be another season when you can do more.
There may be things that become possible again.
And there may also be things you eventually discover you don’t need anymore.
But you don’t have to solve the rest of your life today.
You only have to ask:
What do I need in this season?
Maybe the answer is rest.
Maybe it is fewer commitments.
Maybe it is asking for help.
Maybe it is changing a plan you were excited about.
Maybe it is spending less.
Maybe it is saying no.
Maybe it is allowing something to be good enough instead of pushing yourself to make it perfect.
Whatever the answer is, you don’t have to apologize for having needs.
Choosing the Gentler Path
Sometimes we believe courage means pushing through.
And sometimes it does.
There are moments when we need to take another step, try again, stretch ourselves, or move beyond the boundaries fear has created for us.
But not every boundary is fear.
Not every limitation needs to be conquered.
Sometimes courage is admitting, This is too much for me right now.
Sometimes wisdom says, You don’t have to prove anything.
And sometimes grace whispers, Choose the gentler path.
I am beginning to think that may be what this anniversary is asking of me.
Not to make it smaller.
Not to make it less special.
But to redefine what special looks like for us now.
Maybe the gift isn’t squeezing every possible experience into a few days.
Maybe the gift is giving ourselves permission to rest.
To laugh.
To linger over breakfast.
To wander through a few shops without worrying about how many other things we are supposed to accomplish that day.
To sit somewhere beautiful with the person I have shared twenty-five years with and simply be grateful that we are there together.
There is something sacred about that, too.
And perhaps accepting that doesn’t mean I’ve lost something.
Perhaps it means I’m learning how to choose an experience that actually cares for me instead of one I have to survive.
Giving Yourself Grace
So, if you have been frustrated with yourself lately because you cannot do everything you think you should be able to do, perhaps you need this reminder as much as I did.
You are allowed to listen to what you need.
You are allowed to change the plan.
You are allowed to choose something easier.
You are allowed to rest without earning it first.
You are allowed to be disappointed about what you cannot do.
You are allowed to grieve the things you cannot do while still finding joy in the things you can.
And you are allowed to stop measuring the value of your life by how much you can accomplish, endure, carry, or fit into a day.
Acceptance does not mean that you have stopped hoping.
It doesn’t mean you have given up.
And it doesn’t mean that your life has become smaller.
Sometimes acceptance simply means that you have stopped fighting yourself.
Maybe there is grace waiting for us there—in the moment when we stop demanding that we be someone else and begin gently caring for the person standing here today.
Maybe Heaven isn’t always asking us to push harder.
Maybe sometimes the invitation is to rest.
To receive.
To allow ourselves to be cared for.
To recognize that there can be sacredness in slowing down, just as surely as there can be sacredness in moving forward.
And maybe, sometimes, the gentler path isn’t the consolation prize.
Maybe it’s exactly where we are meant to be.
With peace, love & grace,
Rev. Sheri
Founder, Angel Messenger
💗 Could You Use a Little Care, Too?
If this message resonated with you because you have been carrying more than you realized, I want to remind you of something else:
You are allowed to be the person who needs care, too.
Angel Messenger currently has a limited number of free Compassion Care Kits available. You can nominate someone you love—or you can nominate yourself.
There is no shame in saying, I could use a little encouragement right now.
If that’s you, I hope you’ll give yourself the same grace you would give someone you love.
