I suspect I’m not alone in growing up with stories of a handsome prince coming to the rescue on his white charger.
If you hear the tales often enough they burn an image in your mind of exactly what help should look like-brave, bold and unmistakably obvious.
Trouble is, real life rarely plays out that way.
Oftentimes help doesn’t look like I think it should or even like I hoped it would.
Sometimes, in fact, it’s pretty much opposite of what I had in mind.
And that means that if I’m set on preconceived notions, I might just miss out on precisely the aid my heart is hoping for. In my prideful arrogance I can overlook the hand that’s reaching out for mine.
This past November, my youngest son thought of a wonderful way to spare my joints while I did the chores around here. I spend a good part of each day walking, toting buckets (and other assorted stuff) and tending to our animals and our property. While the walking is great for my health and my bones, the carrying isn’t. So he suggested I think about getting a golf cart to make things easier.
Can I just be honest here?
My idea of someone who used a golf cart to go a mere half mile or so was that they were L-A-Z-Y. (No offense to any readers or friends who use one. ❤)
I was NOT going to be THAT person. I was going to carry my big behind and feed buckets up and down the driveway unassisted. I needed the exercise and, after all, I was plainly capable of doing it.
But after talking it over, and after my husband generously agreed to purchase one, I gave in.
I absolutely, positively LOVE it!
It makes all the difference in the world to my hands, ankles, hips and wrists. I still get plenty of exercise but I’m no longer wearing out my joints doing daily tasks. I didn’t realize how carrying buckets, wood, limbs and other random things for a distance was impacting the swelling and pain I experienced on a daily basis.
And it made me think of how many times I may be missing out on precisely the help God is sending me because I don’t like the package it comes in or my pride is preventing me from accepting it.
Since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I have needed so. much. more. help.
Things that used to be easy are hard and things that used to be hard are harder.
Sometimes that help has come from people I least expected to offer it. Sometimes that help has come from people I (frankly) didn’t want to be beholden to.
Sometimes I’ve waved off the very help I need because my pride has reared its ugly head and won the battle for my heart.
So I’m going to try to finally let the lesson sink in.
Every morning as I hop in my cart and go, I remind my heart that pride is folly and proffered help should be received as the gift it is-whatever it looks like, ❤