Repost: Learning Limits

An exchange with a Facebook friend got me thinking.

How much of my struggle in life is a result of ignoring my own limits?

How much pain do I inflict on myself because I won’t admit I need help?  Why do I insist on living to the edge of endurance and emotional capacity?

Why, why, why do I try so hard to keep up a front of invincibility?

Pride.

Pride goads me like a whip.

Pride makes me say, “yes” when I should say, “no”.

Read the rest here:  Learning Limits

Instead Of Fixing, Offer Space To Share

I didn’t realize until I was the person who needed comforting how unhelpful and sometimes painful my own past comments were to my suffering friends and family.

There are many important and necessary conversations going on right now about how we talk to and talk about our fellow humans.  I’m thankful folks are learning that words are rarely (ever?) neutral.

They build up or tear down. 

And we are responsible for them.

I wish that along with other areas, we would consider how we discuss and address those who experience painful life circumstances.  But we rarely do.

This is one place where the right words can make such a difference.

Instead of shutting down the broken heart or lamenting soul, we can choose to invite them to share and then stick around to listen.

We can create safe spaces instead of closing the door to further conversation.

We can participate in healing instead of perpetuating the pain.

 

instead offering compassion.png

Fear Of What You Know

Last week was a roller coaster.

My first grandchild-a boy-was born prematurely on Saturday after several days of heart stopping, breath robbing drama as his mama went back and forth to the hospital three times in as many days.

My son, his father, is deployed overseas and paddling as fast as he can to get home.

james and lillie

I am twelve hours away and leaving early this morning to go down and do whatever I can to help.  My daughter-in-law’s mother is there and I’m not offended to believe she will be better suited to help her daughter than I am.

But I’ll stay for a bit just to be an extra pair of hands.

I’m sure anyone who gets the news that mama and baby are in trouble is frightened.  It doesn’t take much for a heart to fear the worst.

But for someone who knows exactly what the worst feels like, there’s a whole other level to this terror.

Fear of what you don’t know can’t hold a candle to fear of what you know by experience.

I spent Saturday in anxious prayer, begging God for grace and mercy.  I had no idea how much it took out of me until after I heard baby and mama were doing well and the sun went down.  Exhaustion swept over me like a heavy blanket and it was all I could do to make it upstairs and crawl in bed.

I am beyond thankful that this story has a hopeful ending.  The little tyke only weighs two pounds but appears to be a fighter.  

It will be a long, hard climb for him to mature enough to leave the hospital.  There will be challenges along the way.

But his mama is on the road to recovery and his daddy is on the road (flight!) home.

I’ll spend some of the time driving down finishing the baby blanket I was making before he made his early appearance.

Every stitch is a prayer.  

I don’t know what tomorrow holds.  

But I’m thankful today is a good day.  

I’m a grandma! ❤

all wise and prehistoric

 

Torches In The Dark

There are so many life circumstances that plunge a heart into darkness.  

Child loss is certainly one of them, although not the only one.  

And when you’re in the dark, stumbling around, trying to avoid the sharp corners and looking, looking, looking for a tiny sliver of light to guide you out, it is terrifying.  

If you don’t have a pocket full of matches or a flashlight or a lantern, you are at the mercy of whoever cares enough to come back for you.

I am so thankful for the friends and family who never tire of my fearful cries when I find myself in dark places.  

They come running.  

They don’t leave me there.  

Sometimes all they have is a tiny candle themselves, a sliver of hope they are clinging to.  But they raise it high , share its glow with me and together we take a step forward toward the brighter light of day.

I will never, ever forget the ones who come to me with a torch.

They help my heart when I can’t help myself.  

They refuse to leave me in the dark.  

 

you never forget a person who came to you with a torch in the dark

Photo of man with lantern by Marko Blažević on Unsplash

When Help Doesn’t Look Like I Thought it Should (or Hoped it Would)

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.

knight1

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.  ❤ )

melanie feet crocs and driveway step

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.

golf cart and roses

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.

What foolishness!  

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,  ❤

melanie in golf cart sunny

 

 

Grace Like Rain: Why It’s So Darn Hard to Ask For Help

I would much rather be the one bringing the casserole than the one receiving it.  

Not because I’m ungrateful but because I’m uncomfortable.

It is humbling to have to depend on other people.  It’s hard to admit I can’t manage on my own.  It’s downright humiliating to need help with daily tasks that used to come easy.

But truth is, I cannot make it alone.

Not now and really, not before-although I had kept up a pretty good front for decades.  

While it is hard and humbling and sometimes humiliating, it’s healthy to admit when I’ve reached the end of my own reserves.

Because we were made for relationship. 

Helping one another is how human hearts connect and grow together. It’s how we experience grace.

And there’s more than enough grace to go around.  

Remember studying the water cycle in elementary school?  A great big circle-from the ocean to the sky raining down on the dry land and running back to the ocean.  Plenty of water to go around.

Never actually being used up, just rearranged and reapportioned.

Grace is like that.  It passes from one heart to the next to the next.  Rearranged and reapportioned but never used up.

When I give, that’s wonderful.  That’s easy (for me) because it makes me feel like I’m in control, on top, doing my part.

When I receive, that’s a little harder.  Because I feel like maybe I’m not trying hard enough, not working diligently enough, not contributing my share.

But that’s a lie. 

Because ultimately ALL grace flows from God through Christ. 

When I give, I’m giving out of the abundance He has showered on me.  When I receive, I am receiving out of the abundance He has showered on someone else.

In the end, it’s all God.  

If I refuse the grace He offers through others, I’m refusing HIM. 

Not them.  

I need to remember that.  

grace is a blanket of hope

 

 

Care & Feeding of Your Grieving Person: “You Don’t Need to be Perfect, You Just Need to be Present”

I just love this.  

It’s simple, humorous, shareable and oh, so true.  

“You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be present.”

care and feeding of your grieving person