The Invitation: Say Yes Before You Feel Ready

What do you do when life hands you an unexpected invitation?

Do you wait until you feel ready…

Or do you simply say yes?

Last month, my fiancé, David, had to return to Hamburg indefinitely for his businesses. He asked, “Why don’t you come with me?”

My first reaction was excitement.

My second reaction was panic.

What am I going to do all day while he’s working? Am I going to be bored? Feel lost? Become a burden? I’ve always been very independent, producing my own shows, creating my own schedule, and living a very full social life. In fact, until my husband passed away, I had never even gone to a movie or eaten dinner by myself.

Now I was being invited into someone else’s world.

I didn’t have definite plans for the summer, so I said yes.

Two days before leaving, I packed my suitcase, grabbed my little 12-pound brown and white Ewok dog, Elea, boarded a plane, and headed to Hamburg.

I thought I was taking a trip to Germany.

What I didn’t realize was that I was stepping into a journey that would teach me more about myself than I ever expected.

Tonight I'd like to share three discoveries I brought home.

Discovery One: Say Yes Before You Feel Ready

Before I left New York, I made one important decision.

I didn't want David to feel responsible for entertaining me every day. He had important work to do, and I wanted to support him, not depend on him.

So I created my own personal artist residency.

I packed my laptop, my work for my upcoming shows, and a notebook.

I made a list of museums I wanted to visit, canal cruises I wanted to take, neighborhoods to explore, and places where I could simply sit and observe life.

While David did his businesses…

I would have an adventure.

Instead of worrying about what to do with myself, I became excited about what I might discover.

Sometimes courage isn't having everything figured out.

Sometimes courage is simply buying the ticket.

Discovery Two: Create Your Own Adventure

One of the first things I did was join a Pilates studio.

Now picture this…

I'm in Germany.

My Pilates instructor is French.

I don't speak German, and although her English was excellent, I went to a Lycée in Bordeaux, so my French is conversational. We immediately switched to Franglais.

So there we were, chatting away in Frang before class while everyone else around us was speaking German.

Every now and then, I would proudly contribute the full extent of my German vocabulary:

"Guten Morgen!"

(David will teach me!)

It became this wonderful little international community—French, English, German, different countries, different backgrounds—all brought together in one Pilates class on a reformer.

I began creating my own schedule and returning regularly.

Soon, the instructors knew my name, the women smiled when I arrived, and I knew exactly where I was going and what I was doing.

By the second week, I wasn't just going there to exercise.

I had found my rhythm.

And for the first time since arriving in Hamburg, I didn't feel as though I was merely visiting.

I belonged.

It reminded me that belonging doesn't always begin because everyone speaks the same language.

Sometimes it begins with a smile, slipping onto the reformer, and simply continuing to show up.

After Pilates, I'd walk by my favorite little French brasserie, Café Paris, just around the corner from Hamburg's beautiful Rathaus.

One afternoon, before David came home from work and before we left for our trip to France, I picked up a few beautiful French pastries—a chocolate pavé and strawberry framboise torte—and surprised him with them for dinner.

It was my way of saying,

"We're going to Paris!"

And then there was Elea.

Elea decided she had an important job in Hamburg.

Every morning she proudly went to David's office, greeted everyone in Doggish like the CEO, supervised meetings, and made everyone smile.

At the start and end of the day, she'd ride on David's lap as we drove along Lake Alster with the windows open.

Her little ears flapped wildly in the breeze, and people walking by would point, laugh, wave, and smile.

Our tiny New York dog reminded me that joy doesn't need a common language.

Discovery Three: Trade Expectations for Curiosity

Of course, not everything unfolded exactly as I imagined.

Travel plans changed.

Schedules changed.

Life happened.

But instead of asking,

"Why isn't this going according to plan?"

I began asking,

"What is this trying to teach me?"

That simple question changed everything.

When it was time for our Paris adventure, I had already written the movie in my head.

You know the one…

Romantic cafés.

Walking hand in hand.

Paris at night.

Instead, we landed around eleven o'clock and drove to David's cousin's home.

Waiting for us was his elderly Armenian aunt.

She looked like she'd stepped out of another century.

She spoke only Armenian.

I spoke English and French.

She spoke neither.

And she took one look at my little twelve-pound Ewok, Elea…

and it was immediately clear she was not thrilled that this tiny creature had arrived at her house.

She was wildly afraid.

Let's just say…

it wasn't exactly the warm Parisian welcome I'd imagined.

It was late.

Everyone was tired.

We smiled.

We gestured.

We tried to communicate.

It was awkward.

About an hour later, David announced,

"We're leaving."

Now I thought he meant,

"We're getting a hotel."

Instead, we climbed back into the car and drove three hours through the French countryside to Normandy to stay with his brother, Ashad.

When we arrived, everything changed.

The front door opened.

We were welcomed with hugs, love, and homemade pastries his daughters had baked.

David and I had just watched The Odyssey, so we immediately nicknamed them our "Cyclops pastries."

To this day, that's still what we call them.

We spent a beautiful day together, sharing lunch, sightseeing, laughing, and getting to know David's family.

There was only one small challenge.

Balto.

Balto is the family's magnificent Siberian Husky.

Balto spoke French…

Elea spoke English…

Neither seemed particularly interested in becoming bilingual.

One morning I woke up and discovered Balto standing over my bed.

Over Elea.

Over moi!

He had violently pushed the bedroom door open and was staring at little Elea as though she might be breakfast.

I'll admit…

that got my attention!

Fortunately, everyone survived—including Elea.

Before Balto had another opportunity to negotiate international relations, we headed back to Paris.

And then came the moment none of us will ever forget.

The three of us—David, Elea, and I—went to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

There was Elea, looking out over Paris.

People stopped us constantly.

They smiled.

They took pictures.

They couldn't believe this tiny little dog had VIP treatment all the way to the summit.

Standing there together, looking out over Paris, I realized something.

None of the moments I remembered most had gone according to plan.

The awkward arrival.

The midnight drive.

The Cyclops pastries.

Balto.

The Eiffel Tower.

The unexpected had become unforgettable.

And that's when I realized that sometimes the best adventures begin the moment we let go of the itinerary.

David and I wandered through the fairy-tale halls of Schwerin Castle.

We stood together along the beautiful North Sea.

We explored Berlin.

We traveled through Normandy and Paris.

Each place was different.

Each adventure unexpected.

Some moments were magical.

Some were messy.

Some were simply quiet.

But every one of them taught me something.

I discovered that supporting someone else's dream doesn't mean giving up your own.

I discovered that independence and partnership can exist together.

And I discovered that curiosity is far more rewarding than perfection.

When I left New York, I thought I was going to Germany to support David.

And I did.

But somewhere between Pilates classes taught in three languages…

French pastries…

canal cruises…

castles…

the North Sea…

Paris…

and a little dog with her ears blowing in the wind making strangers smile with "Cuteness Factor"…

I realized something.

I wasn't losing myself by stepping into someone else's life.

I was becoming a fuller version of my own.

So tonight I'd like to leave you with the same question I asked myself.

What invitation is waiting in your life?

Maybe it's a new relationship.

Maybe it's a new career.

Maybe it's a trip you've been afraid to take.

Maybe it's simply doing something you've never done before.

Don't wait until you feel completely ready.

Say yes.

Create your own adventure.

Stay curious.

Because sometimes the invitation that changes your life isn't an invitation to a place.

It's an invitation to become the person you were always meant to be.

I'd love to hear from you.

What invitation is waiting for you?

Life has a way of changing our plans.

Sometimes through joy.Sometimes through heartbreak.Sometimes through an opportunity we never expected.

I'd love to hear about the invitation that's waiting in your own life.

Leave a comment below, or if you're navigating your own extraordinary second act, I invite you to join our Extraordinary Second Acts community.

Life is juicy. Let's begin.

— Quinn

— Quinn ❤️