Take Help When Offered

Continued from here, here, here, and here.

Brethren, if a man is overtaken in any trespass, you who are spiritual restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness, considering yourself lest you also be tempted. Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.

Galatians 6-1-3

Leaky people need help. Lord knows I need it often enough, and yet I am often loathe to accept it. As I age and mellow, I think I might have a few suspicions about why this is true. Mainly it's because whenever I open myself up to offers of help, I equate this to admitting that I am doing something wrong. And lots of times I am. The above text speaks exactly to that, admonishing us to be very gentle and sensitive when we offer help or guidance, because in about five minutes we'll be falling into the same hole. It truly is a case of the blind leading the blind, and God is very gracious to allow us to help one another, considering how prone we are to muck it up.

Plus I hate to think of anyone else bearing my burdens. After all, they are mine, and shouldn't I be the one shouldering them. And can anyone else really bear them to my satisfaction? Because I certainly do waste a lot of my time deceiving myself and thinking I am something I am not. And I'd be embarrassed to think that someone might think of me as lazy, or unable to manage my own affairs.

WHAT? How does this help the situation, when my husband offers to get the children up for school during the week, so I can catch a precious forty-five minutes of additional sleep? No, I certainly don't want to let him bless me in this way because of my own pride. So I scurry around like a mole late at night, packing lunches, locating contents of school bags, checking breakfast supplies, laying out clothing. I'm sure the man appreciates the help, but the truth is that he thrives on far less sleep than I do, wakes with the dawn, and is completely competent to manage all the details of the morning routine. Instead of enjoying and appreciating his kindness, and the bearing of my burden, I am fraught with guilt, intent on making him admit that I am overtaxing his generosity. Almost daily I try and pry the burden off his shoulders and place it back on my own.

Which goes to show that I have an awful long way to go yet, but I'm trying.

Happy Birthday Little Bit!

Now you are twenty, and exactly half my age. Hard to believe I was the age you are now when I brought you home from the hospital twenty years ago today. Pretty scary to think of don't you think, considering how young and stupid I was? Not like you. You're a pretty sharp cookie. But I never should have been allowed to have children until I was at least fifty.

Well, happy happy, and I'm off to make SOMEONE an Oreo cheesecake.

It Should Not Be So

Continued from here, here, and here.

Continuing again with some thoughts on preventing leakage, I consider how much of our energy is absorbed each day contending with things, such as they are. It reminds me of an incident I had with Boo the other day. Her play jacket was awfully grimy, and I wanted to wash it. I instructed her to bring it to me, and she stood watching as I unzipped the down lining and removed the outer shell. "Cool!" she yelled, "I never knew it did that!" She continued to hover as I placed her favorite coat in the washer and added the soap. Her expression was pouty when I informed her that she would have to wear her "good" coat until this one was washed and dried, and be careful not to make a mess of it.

A short time later she was preparing to go out with her brother and Dad, and I saw her with the down liner on, trying to zip the front. Only it wouldn't zip because it was only designed to zip into the shell, not to itself. I explained to Boo, that although she could wear the outer shell as a light weight spring jacket, the liner was not made to wear alone. You should have seen the lip. In her mind this was a travesty of coat design. She should be able to wear that liner if she so chose. And I had to assure her she was wasting her energy being mad. Get over it, and if you want a three season coat, then save your money and contact L.L. Bean.

How many times do I find myself wearing the down liner, my lip hanging down, because I am disgusted with this particular state of affairs? How much energy do I invest in trying to zip that which will not zip, or being angry because I think it should? And if I really cared, why am I not saving my resources to invest in change? Because I can tell you that Boo has better things to spend her money on than a nice new three-in-one coat from Bean's...like candy bars and Moxie for instance.

The Apple and the Tree

Continued from here and here.

One of my father's favorite sayings is that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Which has a lot of truth in it, and is well worth pondering when considering your propensity toward infirmity. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am one of those sorts who vehemently opposes going to the doctor. In fact, I try and avoid it all cost, and suspect that this quirk of mine might land me in big trouble some day. This apple definitely does not fall far from the family tree. My Dad, who loves to dispense these words of wisdom, hates to go to the doctor. Like me, he avoids it at all cost, preferring to diagnose himself based on his knowledge of tropical medicine. The fact that he lives in New England deters him not! Dear old Dad even takes this a step further, which may show that we have evolved down through the generations, or, as he would prefer to say, indicates his high level of commitment. He hates to take medicine, or treatment of any kind, preferring to "let nature run its course".

My point being here, that it may be wise to take a good hard look at the old family tree. Infirmities often run in the family, and we usually see them show up in one of two forms. Most commonly they appear as that not-to-be-missed blemish on the character of our loved one. It is the thing we all know about them, even if strangers remain blissfully unaware. We try and avoid it, and love them in spite of it. We pity or resent them for it. Or, not so commonly, it has blossomed into the corresponding virtue, through long years of discipline and suffering. We might note it as patience in one who thinks of themselves as short tempered, or kindness and generosity in one who tells stories of their selfishness and meanness in youth.

I would strive to be the latter, but I suspect I haven't suffered enough yet. What infirmities are obvious in my loved ones? Am I blind to my own leakage in the very same areas? Have these frailties simply become part of my family culture, and are thereby easily dismissed without much thought? Has my family heritage allowed me to excuse spiritual laziness? These are hard questions to ask, and even harder to act upon.

Anticipation

Continued from here.

Continuing with my thoughts about leakage, I am going to assert that we need to anticipate it. There are times in our lives when we either voluntarily...or kicking and screaming...head into stormy waters. Why is it that we believe that we can continue with business as usual? Why is it that we are surprised to find ourselves depleted or even defeated? I believe it is because we fail to account for our own infirmities. We all have them, and the better we acquaint ourselves with them, the less "leaky" we will be. I am not advocating a program of self discovery that results in excusing our own rotten attitudes and behavior on the basis of our weak frame. I am saying, know your weakened self well, and do all that you can to stay out of that state. And when you have made your best effort to stand, and you still find yourself on your knees, do not beat yourself up. Consider that there might be a reason to stay on your knees for awhile.

If there is one thing I have learned about myself through the years, it is that I need sleep. Alright, I know it's true that we all do...but I need a little bit more than the average bear. Not a lot, just a little. Maybe an extra hour a night. I need it like food, and coffee, and light. If I don't get it I begin a slow decline into lunacy, until at last I become a quivering puddle of despair. I give up. I lay down to die. But instead of dying, I usually fall asleep, and I wake refreshed, wondering why I hadn't thought of a nap sooner. But the damage is usually already done. Now I have to go about cleaning up the messes I made in my irrational sleep deprived state.

So I've spent some time examining this phenomenon, and here is what I've discovered. It usually begins with a lie to myself...like, "I'll only stay up late this one time because I really need to get this done." It progresses to cheer leading that a has a decidedly derogatory tone. "Come on, don't be such a wimp. Suck it up. You should be able to survive on (blank) hours of sleep a night. You call yourself a Mama?" It slides into a pity party. "I'm so tired, and no one else even cares how hard I work, or what I sacrifice for them." And then the home run of tiredness, "I hate you all. My life is devoid of meaning and comfort. I quit."

Lately I have been sick, and my sleep has been shortened and of poor quality. Instead of realizing that this is out of my control in a very real way, and that I should ease up on myself for a little bit, I make myself crazy. My tiredness actually makes me crave cleanliness and order, yet my illness makes me less able to keep the house tidy. Instead of understanding that my head is muzzy and fuzzy with congestion, I beat myself up for my lack of clear thought and initiative. I have stressors in my life right now (who does not?), and instead of coping with them, I am convinced the world is against me.

It takes real effort to understand and work with the fact that I am leaking like a sieve right now. But I have to. And this is just a head/chest cold...maybe the flu kinda thing. What about real stress? It comes to us all. If you haven't had it yet, be comforted in the knowledge that IT IS COMING. And when it does, those seemingly small infirmities you suffer, will grow and grow. Soon you will find yourself gushing out every bit of vitality you have, and blaming yourself and everyone around you for the loss of your lifeblood. In short, it won't be pretty.

Leaking

This morning I enjoyed some quiet time, coffee cup in hand, studying a little devotional book I found during my latest organizing frenzy. It's a stiff little book, with a tight spine that says no one here has ever read it, so I anticipated finding something new, and I was not disappointed. There in today's text, was a phrase that I have been turning over in my mind since I read it. Paraphrased a tiny bit, it says, "sin cracks appear, and vitality leaks out". Well I can certainly identify with that! My vitality seems to be leaking at an alarming rate, and I suspect that I am full of cracks. Stress, self neglect, and yes, sin have taken their toll, and I am running on near empty.

A couple of mornings ago, it was hovering around zero degrees (F) here, and we woke to no heat. In order to get the oh so necessary furnace back up and running, the guys shut the thing off, drained out the fluids, and tried to discover what was wrong. Fortunately they were able to isolate the problem, execute the repair, and get everything up and running before my houseplants were all dead. (Yes, it really was that cold in here!)

Unfortunately, repair of a person is more like heart surgery and less like furnace fixing. If one shuts down and drains the fluids to discover where the leak is coming from, the result is likely fatal. Thank God that I have a source of vitality outside of myself, and a skilled surgeon to make repairs. If only I will make an appointment to get the thing done. I am the sort that limps on and on for weeks, complaining about my discomfort, yet resisting the obvious, that I need to see a doctor. My spiritual life tends to suffer in the same way.

Not dead...yet

OK, OK. I hear you all. You are clicking over here to see if I'm still alive, and yes I am. Just barely. So sorry but I am battling the crud which seems to have taken up residence in my lungs, and head, and joints. I am battling the midwinter funk. And I am battling my fractious, funky children. It just doesn't leave much time or energy for thought provoking or perky posts. Oh yeah, and I'm battling my dying sewing machine as well. As many of you know, this is a tragedy of grave proportions which reduced me to tears, and threats to get a hammer. But don't worry. I'll be back soon with a brain full of junk, ready to pour into my keyboard...and maybe a few photos of my awesome sewing projects too.