Just do it

If you tend to overthink or overdo what you need to do, no matter how difficult or simple the task is, you will never get around to doing it. So do it.

This year’s annual day at my daughter’s school I held a special place in my heart. Unlike past years, where last-minute office tours kept me away, this time everything else could wait. Fate almost intervened again, but I narrowly escaped as a high-profile meeting with the Global President concluded just a day before the event.

Feeling fortunate, I was ready to soak up every moment. My daughter had been practising tirelessly for her celestial chores, and I couldn’t wait to see her shine.

It was around 9 AM, and my wife and I were set, ready to head to the school.

As we approached, the air buzzed with excitement, I dropped her off at the school gate. Just as I was parking the car a short distance away, my phone rang. It was my wife, her voice tinged with sudden panic. She informed me that the invitation was for one parent only—a detail she had completely overlooked. “I’m so sorry,” she added with her voice cracking.

Though I respect her oops moment, unfortunately, even the sincerest apology won’t change the situation. Unsure how to handle this sudden turn of events, I felt a wave of emotion. This moment meant the world to me, and now it was slipping away. I had missed previous events, and this was my last chance before my daughter moved on to a higher grade where annual days wouldn’t include parents. The next opportunity might be when my grandchildren go to school—a distant dream. Taking a deep breath and embracing a calm nonchalance , I urged my wife to proceed as the designated parent while I figured out a solution.

I sat in my car, gripping the steering wheel, trying to process the disgusting situation. Then, suddenly, an idea struck me— I quickly called my wife and asked her to WhatsApp me the photo of the invitation card.

With the digital copy on mobile, I believed I could confidently approach the entrance and, if questioned about a physical copy, claim that I had left it at home. Though the idea seemed promising, fear of being refused at the entrance—and the potential blow to my reputation—held me back. I could not summon the courage to implement the plan. Locked in battle of thoughts, I abandoned the plan and decided on a safer approach: look for some known teachers to request entry.

Fifteen minutes passed with no sign of anyone familiar face — like often we do not get what we search for. As I stood near the school pondering my options, I saw my phone ringing. It was my wife. She let me know that my daughter’s friend wouldn’t be able to attend because of a family emergency. She had already spoken to them, and they were ready to share their invitation card and asked if I could visit their home to pick it up. It seemed like a brilliant idea—their house was only a kilometre away. I hurried back to my car, which was parked a few meters from the school gate. But to my dismay, someone had parked their car in a way that blocked mine. Frustrated and helpless, I felt nearly defeated.

Just as I was about to call my wife to tell her I wouldn’t make it, another idea sparked—why not use technology differently? I could video call her and watch the event virtually. Though it was a good option to salvage the situation, something didn’t feel right and I started hesitating. I knew the experience would be different if I were there in person. Once more, I found myself stuck, hesitating between options, unsure which was right.

Ten minutes later, I found myself wandering near the school gate, directionless, my mind swirling with possibilities, but they all led back to one fear: what if I was denied entry? What would people think of me? How would my reputation suffer?

As I stood there wrestling with these thoughts, I noticed a small child, three or four year old, confidently walking ahead, not even holding his mother’s hand. His fearless stride struck me. Watching him, I realized my struggle wasn’t due to a lack of ability, knowledge, or desire. It was simply fear—fear of rejection, fear of what others might think. This simple insight made me question everything. If I was the hero of my own story, why should I let others’ opinions control me? I didn’t need to wait for someone else to fix the situation; I just needed to take charge.

With that realization, I gathered the courage to move forward boldly. I walked up to the gate, fully confident and ready to explain my situation. But before I could say a word, the teacher at the entrance hurriedly said, “Sir, you’re already late; please enter quickly,” without even looking at me. A wave of relief washed over me as I stepped inside. Thank you.

Many times, it is not our lack of skill or abilities, but simply the fear of failure or rejection that holds us back from taking life-changing actions. What truly matters is having the courage to move forward despite that fear. Happy reading.