Mary’s Fiat and the Fiat of Middle Age

Amanda Woodiel ponders the difficulty of saying “yes” in midlife. 

The fiat of Mary we all know about — she said to the angel Gabriel after he had proclaimed that God had chosen her to be the mother of the Messiah, “Behold I am the handmaiden of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). We know that her only question was motivated by genuine interest: “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Luke 1:34) 

I think about Mary’s fiat a lot. I sip coffee every morning out of a mug that reads “Fiat” in blue flowery script, imagining, with the optimism of a new day, that I too would grandly say, “May it be done unto me!” However, today — far later in the day, when the fresh optimism of dawn had worn off and the realism of afternoon had set in — I started thinking about what was not part of Mary’s response. She didn’t say, “Gosh, this is going to be really hard. Why did you have to choose me?” or “This stinks.”  

Quite opposite of the fiat I imagine myself grandly giving the angel, these are the things I do in fact say regarding the path God has given to me. I think a big part of this is middle age; I’ve been walking this motherhood path for a good long while — eighteen years and five incredible kids — but the grind has taken its toll.  

I stayed home with my kids for the first 15 years (working part-time at first, and then not at all when the sitter’s fee was more than I would make). I homeschooled them, and we had a truly lovely, vibrant life full of fighting, forgiving, laughing, tears, and giggles. 

A New Fiat in Midlife

We enrolled them in a classical Catholic school last year — at first the three oldest ones, and now the two girls as well — and I’ve been given a new call, which means a new invitation to give my fiat. I’m a 47-year-old mom who is a first-year in the Master of Divinity program at the University of Notre Dame. I am doing the program alongside seven wonderful people who are doing the program in what seems to me the much more appropriate age of early-to-mid-twenties.  

The fiat of middle age takes different guts than that of youth. I see it play out in the twenty-year-olds sitting right next to me: the shining optimism in their eyes; the great confidence that if this doesn’t work out, something else will; the security of decades ahead of them to figure it out. 

Midlife Crisis? 

Is this the midlife crisis, I wonder? People talk about that as though it’s only about recapturing youth: buying a convertible or dyeing one’s hair. That’s not it, at least for me. It’s not about recapturing youth, but about struggling to give a fiat with the ready trust of youth. By middle age, we no longer have the vibrant optimism of our younger days. We are not ignorant of the costs associated with what God is asking of us. We know a lot more about ourselves and our own weaknesses. And, if it doesn’t work out, we have precious few years and options left.   

“Life opened up for me all the way to death,” wrote John S. Dunne in A Journey with God in Time. Middle age is about realizing that life — your life — has opened onto death. It is when God asks for a new fiat — whether that’s in illness, in a career switch late in life, in being an empty nester, or taking care of elderly parents — and you know that your fiat is going to cost you a lot.  

For my fiat, I sit in class with two dozen people two dozen years younger than I am who use slang I don’t understand. I worry about final exams and sign the honor code on the front of blue books. It’s a strange thing to have to give my fiat to, strange and somewhat embarrassing.   

And I, unlike Mary, do not have just one question about how God’s will is to be accomplished. I have lots of other things to say, things like “This is absurd and I’m tired of it” and “Couldn’t you have given me another path?” Most of all, though, I say, “Do you really have a plan for this middle-aged lady, God, or am I just wasting my time?” 

Facing the Most Important Question 

This is the central question of my life: Do I trust God? Do I trust Him to lead me well enough that I follow Him aright? Do I trust that in the end there will be some kind of meaning to the journey and, moreover, some destination He fashioned particularly for me? Or, when I arrive at the end of the program, will I discover it was some childish fantasy?  

By the time someone has arrived at middle age, she’s been let down by a lot of people. It’s really difficult to trust that God is not like the others. He’s not, of course, being completely perfect, infinite, and loving. But it’s hard to lean into that when you’ve never encountered it on earth.  

This is why it is so very hard to give your fiat in middle age. And that difficulty is precisely why that fiat, once given, is so very dear to God. 

Where is God asking you to give your fiat to the path He’s given you? Mary, Mother of God, pray for us! 

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Copyright 2026 Amanda Woodiel
Images: Canva