Last Sunday, a darling down-syndrome girl stood up in church to give a talk on Jesus. With her finger following each word, she carefully read the notes she had taken. About two minutes into her talk, she took a breath and lost her place. Within one second, without hesitation or thought, she turned slightly to the side and said emphatically to whomever was behind her on the podium: "I need help."
A man in a suit immediately jumped up to help her find her place. He stood there for about thirty seconds to ensure that she felt confident before slowly backing up and sitting back down in his seat.
Out of everything else said in church that day, this was the most profound.
After this sweet girl turned to say the words "I need help," I pondered the simple, pure thought that went into this request. Losing her place, she recognized that something was now out of her control. Perhaps she could have found the correct words on her own, but no doubt it would have been harder than merely asking someone who could empower her to accomplish the task without a problem. The only thought that went into the decision to ask: she had a need, and someone else could help.
How often have I had a need, surrounded by people who could and want to help, but still insisting that even if it takes me thirty-five times as long and even if I jeopardize my health or relationships, I will figure it out ALL BY MYSELF? This is my worst type of pride.
I had a friend tell me about a year ago that expecting miracles when I was not willing to ask for help and look to my resources was prideful. At first I was taken aback, because I thought by sheer willpower alone I could do anything.
I have since discovered that almost every miracle in my life has come through the service of another person.
Situation forced me to re-discover this only last week. By Thursday, I had become a crazy person. Between mastitis with an accompanying fever and migraine, lack of sleep, a screaming baby and working husband, I hit a wall. I have always wanted to be someone who can do hard things by myself, but I am reminded again and again that insisting on independence in a world full of good and helpful people maybe is not strength at all.
I'm not advocating dependence. The girl on the stand in church did not need the man to stand there and read each word for her; instead, she temporarily needed assistance. I can imagine that the man whom she asked to help did not have a second thought. The opportunity blessed him as much as her, no doubt.
Maybe it is human nature and maybe it is a cultural norm, but it seems that people tend to wear their difficulties as badges, made more impressive by their ability to do it "on their own." I used to admire this. Now, I mostly want to be like the girl on the stand, strong enough to recognize that receiving service graciously is just as important as giving it freely.