Humbled

I have several memories of me laying on the long side of the sectional in my living room while someone brought me something. A meal or an ice pack. A glass of water or some sort of pill. An extra pillow or a t.v. remote. Some of the memories of people bringing food are a little fuzzy. I must have been on pain killers at the time. Or I was just really tired. Or both.

I made my bed on that part of the sofa for a few weeks. Within arms reach were medicines and books, snacks and drinks. However, beyond that small perimeter, there was little I could do for myself. All I could do was ask for help while feeling quite helpless.

I broke down crying a few times because I was so upset I couldn’t just get up and walk and do things for myself. Even just to get a sip of water because I was thirsty. A few timesI yearned to go up the stairs to get something from my bedroom, even though that was completely out of the question. One of my legs was broken, for God’s sakes, and stairs were NOT my friend. Frankly, I was a bit scared of them. They were the reason I was in this position. The one that I could barely move out of. I felt stuck.

At one point though, I started to look at it another way. I realized I had the chance to look at my life through a completely different lens.

What if you could not go or anywhere or do much on your own? What would you do? You would ask for help, right? I didn’t really. I mean, I sort of did but I had to be pushed to really take it. My parents came to help for over a week because my mother insisted. A friend from my church choir set up a meal train so that were were not without food for more than a month, her idea, not mine. People voluntarily sent money to help with expenses.

People I have never met before brought amazing meals and prayed for me and my family. Friends and family drove my kids to and from school for six weeks, while I could not. My neighbor loaned me her scooter. Another friend from church took me to doctor’s appointments. Brandon did countless things for me, for which I could never thank him enough, not that he expects me to. Love was all around me, being shown to me in different ways. It’s amazing how hard it can be to accept help, especially when we are so used to doing mostly everything for ourselves (and others).

Today, I returned to sing in my choir at church and the sweet friend who set up the online meal train came up to me and asked me what I learned from all of this. I told her, “I learned to be humble and accept help,” and then I started to cry. It’s amazing how vulnerable we become when we are put in a situation to lean on others. And it is truly amazing how those who really care and love us come into the light during a time such as this.

I don’t feel particularly giving myself. I feel like there is so much more I could do. Yet here I was requiring help because of the situation I found myself in, while feeling underserving. We are taught to be strong and self sufficient. And in the last few years after my divorce, I think part of me always feels the need to prove I can be. But what I came to realize is that I am giving, and not just monetarily. I have given of my time and care, my prayers and my love. I have given of friendship and support, advice and welcoming. I have given what I can give, and in return God has blessed me with a loving and supportive community that I am not allowed to deny.

I am back on two feet and continuing to heal more each day. Life and routines are returning to normal and paying it forward is in the future. I am forever humbled by the love and help I received since the morning of January 6th, and I will never forget how this experience has changed me.

It’s okay to accept help when we really need it. It’s truly amazing how people can be there for each other in our times of need and what we can accomplish as a community, looking to serve each other. Humbled doesn’t really even being to describe it. But it is a start.