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“To love at all is to be vulnerable.” ~ C.S. Lewis
NOTE FROM MARSHA: Eileen and I have been friends since we were 10 years old. Today, she shares her poignant story of learning to receive care and support from others. As someone who shares the kind of fierce self-sufficiency Eileen describes in herself, I was both moved and challenged. I’m sure you will enjoy Eileen’s contribution to Just A Thought.
Everyone who knows me knows that I am extremely self-reliant. The oldest child of an oldest child, who was raised in weird circumstances that made me an “adult” at the age of 13, I am responsible for everyone and everything and can handle it all.
I’m very efficient and for years was the “take charge” volunteer of the year. I take care of others.
Not vice-versa.
I almost never ask for help for myself. It is not really in my DNA. I don’t roll like that and it makes me feel uncomfortable.
Enter major back surgery this past month.
Going into it, I knew it would be a 6-8 week recovery process (or more) and that we would need help. I also have one of the world’s best husbands who was willing to do a lot of heavy lifting, so that’s a true blessing.
Our church has a meal-train program. My first thought was, “Oh, we don’t need that. We can order on Grubhub and handle getting our own food. We have the means to do it.”
But I am now in recovery from over-responsibility for everything and I understood that my husband needed the meal train and probably I did too.
So, we signed up.
In the weeks leading up to surgery, I shared with my fellows in my 12-step recovery program that I was frightened. That I would be missing a lot of meetings. That it was a long process with no guarantees.
That I hoped for their prayers and would love phone calls.
In other words, through learning that I’m not in charge of the world, I had learned (a little bit) to ask for help.
I had no idea what I would receive.
Friends and fellows texted and called and checked on me. They checked on George and came and spent time with me so he could go for a walk or run errands.
When food was delivered, it was a chance to get to know the people who had prepared it, in ways I had not previously done.
Likewise, when fellows from my program called or stopped by, I discovered friendship and kindness that went beyond how I knew them from a meeting.
Dear friends of over 50 years traveled a very long distance to visit us to help celebrate George’s 70th birthday since we were in no shape for a party.
Our small group from church “birthday bombed” him, showing up with cake and balloons for a party that did not require me to take charge or be the organizer.
People brought pillows and puzzles and DVD’s.
When I finally got back to a recovery meeting this past week, the reading was about community and I felt overcome with the love I had felt. I realized that it was through my vulnerability that all this overwhelming Grace came in.
It’s like my Higher Power said,
“Well, FINALLY, you have some cracks through which I can reach you!”
Today I went to church for the first time since surgery and after a couple of rough nights. I was self-pitying, in physical pain, and resentful.
I almost didn’t go.
Then I arrived and was miraculously surrounded by love and hugs and warmth.
The music included lines like “I’m gonna heal so God can use me” and the band sang Bridge Over Troubled Water.
My favorite moment, though, was when I heard the music leader say my name, “Eileen” from the stage and it startled me.
But what he was singing was: “I lean not on my own understanding. My life is in the hands of the maker of heaven.”
I just sat and laughed and cried because, of course, it’s a pun for me.
Ei ~ leen not on my own understanding.
The lyrics go on to say, “I give it all to you, God, Trusting that you’ll make something beautiful out of me.”
In other words, God’s got my back (another pun for you). When I
- let go,
- surrender,
- accept my powerlessness and
- share my vulnerability,
that’s when floods and floods of grace, joy and love can enter.
Just a thought…
Eileen
Listen to A Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon and Garfunkel