Toss these dual definitions into a blender, and you pour out the margarita of commitment: giving our word, and then keeping our word.
These promises with their obligations come in all shapes and sizes. Some pull more weight than a three-locomotive freight train. A committed relationship, for instance, means spending time together, being honest with each other, working through problems, desiring a shared future, and so on. A bride and groom take their commitment a step further by exchanging legally binding vows of fealty, often in the presence of God.
On the other hand, the single working mom who promises her 5-year-old a Saturday afternoon in the park signs a featherweight contract, one with few strings attached other than the pleasure of the child.
The first half of the commitment equation, the promise, is the easy part. A friend asks us to serve on the board of the Friends of the Library, and we accept, thinking we can do some good for the community and secretly puffing ourselves up a bit for our volunteerism. But the second part of the equation, the obligation, whops us in the head with the reality that once a month, exhausted from our workday, we are condemned to spend an evening in debates over trifles. What were we thinking?
Sometimes we make similar promises to ourselves and likewise fail. We join a gym, swearing to exercise three evenings a week, but soon we’re down to three times a month. Again, we ask, what were we thinking?
Sticking to a pledge, then, can be hard, and if we break that pledge, even one made to a 5-year-old, we diminish our reputation for reliability. So, a question: What’s a good way to approach commitments?
First, we can be wary about making promises. When I was in my mid-40s, self-employed, married, and with three children and another on the way, I spent more than a year volunteering as a Cub Scout leader, serving on my church’s parish council, teaching Sunday school, and helping three renegade nuns found a private school. It was a miserable whirlwind of appointments and anxiety.
But it taught me one invaluable lesson. I learned to say no. Firmly, without regret or hesitation. That lesson stuck, allowing me time and again to avoid taking on tasks for which I was either unsuited or which I would likely resent.
If, however, we have promised our time, talent, or treasure to some cause or person, pride and duty demand that we do our best to honor that promise. If we’ve accepted a job offer, we owe our employer a full day’s work. If we’ve volunteered as a class parent at our daughter’s school, we are obliged to lend a hand to the teacher.
And finally, once we do commit, we should follow up with enthusiasm. The dad who promised his son a game of catch in the backyard needs to bring joy to that game, no matter how hard his day. He may forget that shared half-hour by the next morning, while the kid may remember it his entire life. The woman who helps a friend with a yard sale shows up on time and greets customers with a smile. Obligations delivered with frowns, grousing, and a lousy attitude are worse than never having made the commitment at all.
Our commitments, both the pledges given to ourselves and to others, are noble and worthy things, but only if we make them so.
