Let It Be Done: A Life Shaped by Saying Yes to God

The Annunciation has always felt like a quiet moment that carries immense weight. In the stillness of an ordinary day, the angel appears to Mary with a message that will change everything. There is no long preparation and no perfect timing. There is only an invitation and a calling. What strikes me most is not just that she said yes, but how she said it. Not with full understanding. Not with guarantees. Not with control over what would happen next. She said yes in faith, in trust, without knowing the cost, yet believing that God would be present within it.

I am reminded of this every time I look at the artwork above the tabernacle at my parish, Sts. Anne and Joachim Catholic Church. The image draws your eyes upward and holds together the mystery of God’s plan in a single frame. At the center is Christ on the cross. Above Him is God the Father, with the Holy Spirit present. Surrounding it are moments of salvation history that began with a yes. It is a visual reminder that the Annunciation was not just a moment. It was the beginning of everything that followed.

And it started with Mary’s yes.

I have come to recognize that much of my own life has been shaped by those same kinds of yeses, not always confident, not always easy, but still, yes.

Saying yes to moving away from family and friends meant leaving behind what felt familiar and steady. It meant stepping into places where I did not yet know the people, the rhythms, or even who I would become there. There were moments of deep loneliness and moments of growth that only came because I was no longer surrounded by what was comfortable. In those spaces, I learned to rely on God in a different way. I learned that home is not only a place, but a presence that travels with me when I trust Him.

Saying yes to new job opportunities often came with more questions than confidence. I wondered if I had enough experience, enough knowledge, or enough strength to carry what was being asked of me. Each new role stretched me beyond what felt manageable at the time. Yet in stepping forward, I began to see that readiness is not always something we feel before we begin. Sometimes it is something that is formed within us as we go. God did not wait for me to feel fully capable. He asked for my willingness and met me in the learning, the uncertainty, and the responsibility that followed.

Saying yes to becoming a teacher meant trusting that I could guide and support others even as I continued learning myself. It was a calling that required patience, humility, and a willingness to grow alongside those I was meant to serve.

Saying yes to stepping into leadership roles I did not feel fully prepared for meant accepting responsibility when I would have preferred more time, more clarity, or more certainty. Those moments asked me to rely not on my own confidence, but on God’s grace and the quiet assurance that He equips us for what He calls us to do.

Saying yes to writing meant allowing myself to be seen in ways that felt deeply personal. It meant sharing thoughts, experiences, and faith in a way that could be received, misunderstood, or even rejected. Writing became an act of trust, of offering something real and believing that God could use it for someone else.

Those yeses were not simple. They carried grief, uncertainty, and sometimes loneliness. They asked me to trust when I would have preferred clarity. And yet, looking back, I can see that each one became a place where God met me in a real and tangible way. That is what the Annunciation reveals so beautifully. God does not wait until everything feels secure. He enters into our ordinary lives and invites us into something greater, often before we feel ready. Mary’s yes was not a one time decision. It was a lifelong unfolding of trust, lived out in moments both hidden and profound.

The same is true for us. Faith is often less about having answers and more about being willing to respond. It is choosing to trust that God’s grace will meet us in the unfamiliar. It is believing that even when we leave something behind, we are not left alone.

There are still moments when I hesitate. Moments when I want reassurance before I respond. But the Annunciation, and that image above the tabernacle, remind me that faith is not built on certainty. It is built on relationship. It is built on trust. The cross at the center of that image makes it clear that every yes carries cost. It also reveals something deeper. God is present in all of it, from the first yes to the final surrender.

Mary’s yes continues to echo, not just as a moment in Scripture, but as a way of living.

And today, I am reminded that my own yes does not need to be perfect or fearless. It only needs to be willing.

“Let it be done to me according to your word.”

That prayer is not just Mary’s.

It is mine too.