“You need help,” my friend texted, “What can I do for you? Food? Laundry? Soda? Groceries? People to come clean your house?”
My first reaction was to argue with her and insist that I was fine. But truth was that I wasn’t. I did need help. At that moment, our family had been dealing with months of an acute event from a chronic illness and my mental health was slipping under the strain of caregiving and homeschooling and mothering and wife-ing and housekeeping…and all the other “-ings.” Because I wasn’t the one personally recovering from an illness, I didn’t think I was deserving of assistance. After all, there are a lot of other people dealing with far worse challenges than we, and I was doing nothing to step out and help them the way I used to do. There had been many social media pleas on behalf of local parish members in need of meals following surgeries, hospitalizations, and new babies, and I wasn’t reaching out to any of them. I considered myself just a mom whose schedule needed to be tweaked. A wife who needed to focus on fortitude. And self-donation. And perhaps temperance rather than gluttony. Andrea’s text jarred me because I knew that I needed to listen to her and I needed to accept the help.
Why is it so hard to accept help? I don’t think I’m alone in suffering with this affliction of self-reliance. We are taught from young ages that giving is better than receiving. We assign virtue to a job completed on our own. Even toddlers insist: “I do it myself!” The very act of “doing it alone” requires that we literally are alone. There is no room for community when we refuse help. Sometimes we would rather suffer in solitude rather than allow others to see us at our weakest. Sometimes we are afraid to let people see our real, authentic selves rather than our Instagram holograms. Sometimes we even refuse to accept a compliment!
In the Book of Genesis, God declares that “It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him.” From the very inception of humankind, we were created for community. We often forget that, in order for the concept of assistance itself to function, there must be a giver and a receiver. Jesus offers a roadmap for helping others in the Corporal Works of Mercy: we are instructed to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty. Shelter the homeless, clothe the naked. Visit the sick and imprisoned. Bury the dead. We know that offering help to others brings us joy, but we can’t always be on the giving end: we must allow others to the opportunity to help as well. Pride rejects the relief offered by community; humility accepts and celebrates the assistance offered to us. When we do accept help, we discover something amazing happening. Accepting help actually allows us to bond more closely to the people around us and allows us to delve into deeper and more meaningful relationships. And relationship, of course, is exactly the center of Who God is: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
In the end, I did accept help, although I still felt completely undeserving of it. Andrea sounded the alarm with a meal train and many. many friends and parishioners jumped in to offer prayers on our behalf, to prepare meals, and to send gift cards and encouraging messages. Family members popped in with treats and visits. One dear friend who lives out-of-state even had groceries delivered to our doorstep! Lo and behold, I was filled with hope and renewed energy. The trials in our home evaporated and I felt once again strong and capable. It was humbling to be vulnerable enough to allow others to pick us up and carry us for a time, and it was healing to know that we were not alone: our community was supporting us. During this month of Thanksgiving, we often get so wrapped up in the giving that we become overwhelmed. Remember that there is holiness in receiving as well!
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