Doing nothing

By Camille Mc Millan Rambharat

As I sit here marvelling at another birthday (still refusing to feel a day over 29, thank you very much), I find myself, sportscaster-style, catching the India vs Sri Lanka women’s cricket match while my husband plays chef on a holiday. For the first time, I made a radical move: doing absolutely nothing. No chores, no agendas, and, if I’m honest, a lot of sighing with satisfaction. “Doing nothing” was the spiritual cleaning I didn’t know I needed.

There’s an unexpected magic in sitting quietly, surrounded by cricket banter and the comforting sound of pots clanging, that turns an ordinary birthday into a masterclass in gratitude. Suddenly, the good, the bad, the ugly and, yes, the unspeakable ‘evil’ life has tossed my way and showed up for roll call. I remembered those heart-wrenching moments that brought me to my knees, some in worship and others in righteous desperation (“Lord, please take this cup—I’ll pass on this bitter one”). Every kneeling moment ended with the same surrender to God, whose plans are always better than mine and perfectly timed. Letting go and letting God is highly recommended as a lifestyle upgrade on steroids.

Every victory came courtesy of God’s grace. My life’s slogan is ‘God did it… and yes, I have the receipts’. Age truly does soften you, unless it’s just the cumulative exhaustion from motherhood, career, school and marriage finally catching up.

With our children home for an early birthday roast (I mean warm-up), the storytelling was, let’s say, Oscar-worthy. Some tales, I’m pretty sure, were sponsored by creativity at its best. Honestly, my memory banks are like email clutter, random junk, and impossible to keep up with. When pressed, I take the easy way out by blaming “the ageing process”.

All joking aside, having our family together for laughter, memories (fact or fiction), and a celebration of me felt like a trophy moment. Let’s not sugarcoat it: raising children is no small miracle. Even the Blessed Mother had her “where’d he go now?” moment when Jesus stayed behind in the temple, deep in theological debate (Luke 2:46). If Mary got flustered, I figure mothers everywhere are justified in their holy exasperation.

After Covid, I instituted a strict anti-gift policy. Preferable alternatives? Coffee dates, spontaneous lunches, porch conversations, or walks that linger far past their scheduled time. At this stage, experiences are richer gifts than anything with a price tag.

Looking forward, I pray for more laughter, deeper faith, and plenty of space for doing a bit of nothing while God quietly crafts my next God-did-it story.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10