Last night, on my way to teach a night class at a local university, I stopped by a drinking fountain to refill my water bottle. I had my reminiscent-of-a-diaper-bag purse hanging from one shoulder, my binder of teaching materials bundled in my other arm, my cell phone clenched between my ear and shoulder, and my hip pushing against the dispenser button, as I leaned and stooped to avoid dropping both my purse and my phone. Strategically, I held the water bottle at the precise angle, hoping to catch at least half of the water spraying in its direction. The call had ended; still I was stuck in the position.
From my left, I heard, “Can I help?”
I couldn’t even turn to see who had said it, for fear of dropping my phone, though the voice was decidedly female. For a nanosecond I looked at everything I was simultaneously holding and doing. I thought of handing her my binder or setting down my purse. Then, I glanced at my water bottle, which was nearly as full as I could get it, at least at the awkward angle. “What was the point?” I figured.
“Oh, gosh, no, I’ve got it.” I straightened my body, but my head was still pressed against the cell phone on my shoulder.
“Are you sure?” she queried, walking slowly toward me.
I tightened the lid on the bottle, let the phone drop from my shoulder to my hand, and slipped it into my coat pocket.
“No, I’m good. Thanks for offering though.” I smiled, realizing I must have looked like I was in a circus balancing act, about to lose my grip on everything.
And, then it struck me. Over the past few days, I had received texts and phone calls from at least eight different people, co-workers, friends, neighbors, church members, and family who had asked almost the same thing: “What can I do to help?” Undoubtedly, to them I must look like I am in a circus balancing act, about to lose my grip on everything. And, I probably am.
It’s not that I don’t need help, it’s not that I don’t want help, it’s just that when I’m in the middle of my juggling act, I’m not sure what to hand over to someone else or I think I can just deal with it. I am definitely not good at accepting help and I’m even less good at asking for it. Intellectually, I know that having help does not mean I am incapable or weak, but I don’t want to be a burden to anyone or to have people feel sorry for me.
In Boundaries, Cloud and Townsend (1992) state: “Many times others have ‘burdens’ that are too big to bear. They do not have enough strength, resources, or knowledge to carry the load, and they need help. Denying ourselves to do for others what they cannot do for themselves is showing the sacrificial love of Christ. … On the other hand … everyone has responsibilities that only he or she can carry. These things are our own particular ‘load’ that we need to take daily responsibility for and work out. No one can do certain things for us” (p.30).
Cloud and Townsend (1992) clarify this concept further, by differentiating between the terms burden and load:
The Greek word for burden means “excess burdens,” or burdens that are so heavy that they weigh us down. These burdens are like boulders. … We need help with the boulders—those times of crisis and tragedy in our lives. In contrast, the Greek word for load means “cargo,” or “the burden of daily toil.” This word describes the everyday things we all need to do. These loads are like knapsacks. Knapsacks are possible to carry. We are expected to carry our own. We are expected to deal with our own feelings, attitudes, and behaviors, as well as the responsibilities God has given to each one of us, even thought it takes effort. Problems arise when people act as if their “boulders” are daily loads, and refuse help, or as if their “daily loads” are boulders they shouldn’t have to carry. The results of these two instances are either perpetual pain or irresponsibility. (p.30-31)
I know I am the only one who can make my decisions, feel my pain, learn from my life experiences, and ultimately find joy. Does that mean I cannot allow a friend to lift my spirits, provide me food for thought and food for my family, or offer me comfort? No. However, when I am in the process of trying to carry a crushing boulder, it is difficult for me to know what I need to do, let alone tell others how they can help.
My patent answer lately is, “Just pray.” Who couldn’t use a few extra pleas to God on their behalf? And I certainly have felt the sustaining power of those who have prayed, asked others to pray, and meditated for my family and for me.
A couple of days ago, the boulder I carry was nearly unbearable, and as I sat at my desk during my preparation period the disillusionment and depression became more than I could stand. I began to sob. Another teacher happened to walk in to check on me and, seeing my distress, took action to gather a team of “boulder bearers.” Within minutes, she had arranged for several colleagues to teach my remaining classes and ordered me, as sweetly as she could, to “go home.” That evening, with the contributions from another friend, she provided dinner for my family and sat with me for an hour, laughing and chatting about politics and Facebook foibles.
This was one of several recent supportive arms, reaching to help me carry my burdens. How blessed I am to be surrounded by loving and supportive people. Perhaps, the miracle I have been praying for has instead come in the form of an angelic army of loyal loved ones.
Galatians 6:2 Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.
