“Can you take on one more thing?” seems to be the unofficial motto of busy seasons.
It happens all the time: “Do you have a minute?” “You’re better with computers than me – can you help me?” “I know you like this kind of art stuff and I would love to have something like this. Can you make me one?”
It’s interesting how fast people delegate things to one another, without even realizing they do it. And as a recovering people-pleaser and proactive do-er, I fall into the unintentional trap every single time.
When Helping Becomes Overwhelming
Case in point: at a group activity recently, a conversation was started about setting up a speaker. The group talking asked me on an aside if I knew anyone to cover a day and I happened to have a lead for them. “That’s great – go ahead and set it up and let us know what day works best.” Suddenly, I’m cast as the scheduler to coordinate this event and I realize another “yes” seems to have been given.
This is just one of many daily interactions, some that form in a similar way and others that are my own doing. Like when you have an idea and brainstorm with someone and you’re throwing ideas back and forth. The conversation goes from “I” of the initiator for the project to “we” and you’re recruited to doing the project.
While these sound like points of just being helpful to someone or running with all the ideas you helped come up with, they are all still yeses and not ones initiated yourself.
The Self-Imposed Yeses
Add to it the yes you set up yourself: Yes, I can make that doctor appointment at that time and day. Yes, I’m the parent at home that night so I’ll make dinner plans. Yes, I’ll take the car for service regularly. Yes, I want to maintain my health so I’ll stick to this activity.
These aren’t bad things. In fact, they’re all good things. Necessary things. But here’s what I’m slowly learning: every yes to something good might be a no to something better. Every commitment I make affects not just my schedule, but my energy, my family time, and my ability to show up fully for the things that matter most.
The Stewardship of Saying No
Saying no isn’t selfish – it’s stewardship. It’s being honest about our capacity and honoring the commitments we’ve already made.
But knowing this and living it? Two completely different things.
Still working on this one. Some days I nail it, other days I overcommit and remember why boundaries matter. Some days I catch myself before I automatically say yes to that “one more thing.” Other days I find myself coordinating events I never intended to coordinate, wondering how I got there again.
Learning to Redirect Instead of Taking On
I’m getting better at this, though. Recently, when that speaker situation came up, I offered to provide the contact information so they could reach out themselves instead of me becoming the coordinator. When someone wanted to brainstorm program ideas, I was clear upfront: “I’m happy to help form ideas, but I don’t have the bandwidth to activate and carry them out – volunteers would be needed.”
Just this week, someone came asking questions about a program and then wanted me to reach out to a resource to revamp what we have in place. I pivoted it back to them: “You’ll want to visit with the staff member who oversees that program to discuss whether this new resource would be beneficial.” I took myself out of needing to do another follow-up task.
Breaking the One-Stop-Shop Pattern
Here’s what I’m realizing: when I’m working with so many people, I’m constantly having to discern where to put my energy and not fall into another character flaw of mine – doing everything myself. Yes, I can and would get it done. Yes, I often end up housing all the different pieces so people have someone to check in with. But it’s not sustainable.
No matter how good and positive these requests are, they’re still another piece. And when you’re juggling church administration, family life, art business, and everything else, every additional piece matters.
What I’m learning is that when I redirect people to the right resources, everyone wins. They get help from someone who specializes in that area, the systems work better, and I can focus on what I’m actually called to do. It’s not about pushing people away – it’s about connecting them with the best person for their specific need.
The Hidden Cost of Good Opportunities
What I’m learning is that every commitment – even the good ones, even the ones that align with my gifts and passions – has a cost. Not just time, but emotional energy. Mental bandwidth. The ability to be present for my family. The space to hear what God might actually be calling me to instead of just responding to what’s being asked of me.
When I automatically say yes to coordinating that speaker event, I’m saying no to something else. Maybe it’s saying no to a quiet evening with Aspen. Maybe it’s saying no to time I need to recharge so I can show up fully at work. Maybe it’s saying no to the creative project that’s been waiting patiently for my attention.
Learning to Pause and Clarify
I’m trying to build in a pause now. When someone asks, “Can you take on one more thing?” I’m learning to say, “Let me check my calendar and get back to you.” Not because I don’t want to help, but because I want to help well. I want to give a thoughtful yes or a gracious no, instead of an automatic response that I’ll regret later.
I’m also learning to clarify roles upfront. “I’m happy to help you think through this, but I can’t take on the execution right now.” It feels awkward at first, but it’s honest. And it prevents that slow slide from brainstorming partner to project manager.
The Question That Changes Everything
Here’s the question I’m trying to ask myself more often: “What’s one thing I need to say no to this week?”
Maybe it’s that extra project that sounds interesting but isn’t essential. Maybe it’s the social obligation that feels more like duty than joy. Maybe it’s the self-imposed standard that’s adding pressure without adding value. Maybe it’s taking on someone else’s follow-up task when I could redirect them to the right person instead.
Because here’s what I’m discovering: when I protect my capacity, I can show up better for the things that truly matter. When I honor my limits, I can serve from a place of abundance instead of depletion. When I say no to good things, I create space for the best things.
A Word to Those I’ve Said No To
If I’ve said no to you recently, or redirected you to someone else, please know it’s not coming from a place of not wanting to help or not caring about what you’re doing. It’s coming from a place of preservation – learning to focus my sights directly on what my path is from God, learning to honor moments of pause, and working on honoring commitments that build my relationship with my family.
A no now could be a yes in a different season. Don’t give up on me, but do give me grace as I learn to steward my capacity better.
I’m discovering that sometimes the most loving thing I can do – for you, for my family, for the work God has called me to – is to be honest about what I can and can’t take on right now. When I redirect you to the right person or say no from this place, I’m actually protecting my ability to say a wholehearted yes when the timing is right.
Still Learning
I won’t pretend I have this figured out. This week alone, I’ve probably said yes to three things I should have paused on. But I’m getting better at recognizing the pattern. I’m getting better at asking the hard questions before I commit. I’m getting better at redirecting instead of automatically taking on.
And maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe learning to say no well – and redirect strategically – is like any other skill. It takes practice, grace for the mistakes, and the willingness to try again tomorrow.
What’s one thing you need to say no to this week? Or what’s one task you could redirect to the right person instead of taking it on yourself? I’d love to hear how you navigate the balance between serving others and protecting your capacity.
Sprinkle some joy in the comments! 🎨