I'm slightly laid up for a few weeks recovering from minor surgery, and I've realized something about myself:
I hate asking for help.
I'll do anything to avoid it. Sometimes I call it "resourcefulness," thinking of my need as an intriguing puzzle to solve - as in, what are some creative ways I can handle this by myself? Sometimes I call it "pulling my weight" - this is my problem, and I can handle it on my own, thanks anyway. And when I do accept help, I'm usually thinking about a way I can pay the person back, or at least thank them profusely.
Deep down I know what it really is. Pride. There may be some false humility thrown in, as in "Oh, but there are so many other people who need help worse than I do - help them instead. I'll manage, really." Perhaps a touch of self esteem issues too - "I'm not worthy of help." But I think it's mostly pride. I hate having to admit that I'm in a predicament I can't get out of by my own strength. I want to be able to do it all by myself - and there's no one who can. Not all the time. At the core, I must admit, unwillingness or inability to ask for help is a spiritual issue.
The thing is, I love being asked for help. It makes me feel great to know that someone thought of me as a person who would be willing to help out. I never think of the asker as weak, pathetic, or lazy (well, unless they really ARE being lazy.
) I don't expect to be paid back by the person, although it's always nice to be thanked. In general, I'm glad to help, and I invariably feel sort of fulfilled, energized, and more connected to the person I helped. Sometimes I even have a sense of being an answer to someone's prayer. So - why wouldn't I want to give someone else the opportunity to experience all that?
According to weather predictions, there will soon be about half an inch of ice on my driveway and walkway, topped by as much as a foot of snow. Ordinarily I could handle this the way I do a few times each winter: with my trusty ergonomic as-seen-on-TV snow shovel and a jug of pet-friendly de-icing pellets. But not this time. You can't shovel snow sitting down. Even if I managed to finish the job without losing my balance and falling, the energy expenditure would set back my recovery. I'm going to need help today; there's no way around it. And I know just the person to help me: my neighbor. I know he'll say yes. I just have to ask him.
God, please give me the humility to ask for help, the grace to accept, and a heart of pure thanks.
I hate asking for help.
I'll do anything to avoid it. Sometimes I call it "resourcefulness," thinking of my need as an intriguing puzzle to solve - as in, what are some creative ways I can handle this by myself? Sometimes I call it "pulling my weight" - this is my problem, and I can handle it on my own, thanks anyway. And when I do accept help, I'm usually thinking about a way I can pay the person back, or at least thank them profusely.
Deep down I know what it really is. Pride. There may be some false humility thrown in, as in "Oh, but there are so many other people who need help worse than I do - help them instead. I'll manage, really." Perhaps a touch of self esteem issues too - "I'm not worthy of help." But I think it's mostly pride. I hate having to admit that I'm in a predicament I can't get out of by my own strength. I want to be able to do it all by myself - and there's no one who can. Not all the time. At the core, I must admit, unwillingness or inability to ask for help is a spiritual issue.
The thing is, I love being asked for help. It makes me feel great to know that someone thought of me as a person who would be willing to help out. I never think of the asker as weak, pathetic, or lazy (well, unless they really ARE being lazy.
) I don't expect to be paid back by the person, although it's always nice to be thanked. In general, I'm glad to help, and I invariably feel sort of fulfilled, energized, and more connected to the person I helped. Sometimes I even have a sense of being an answer to someone's prayer. So - why wouldn't I want to give someone else the opportunity to experience all that? According to weather predictions, there will soon be about half an inch of ice on my driveway and walkway, topped by as much as a foot of snow. Ordinarily I could handle this the way I do a few times each winter: with my trusty ergonomic as-seen-on-TV snow shovel and a jug of pet-friendly de-icing pellets. But not this time. You can't shovel snow sitting down. Even if I managed to finish the job without losing my balance and falling, the energy expenditure would set back my recovery. I'm going to need help today; there's no way around it. And I know just the person to help me: my neighbor. I know he'll say yes. I just have to ask him.
God, please give me the humility to ask for help, the grace to accept, and a heart of pure thanks.
