I would have preferred an extraordinary heroic story to accompany the cast on my arm. But in the vast majority of fractures, as in mine, it happened at home on the most ordinary of days.
I broke my wrist in two places, not through rescuing 93 orphans from a vicious grizzly bear, but eating humble pie. I tripped over my slippers in the early morning darkness.
We do stupid stuff, and there are consequences. “I didn’t mean to” does not exempt us. Nor blaming someone else. No one plans to have an accident. That's why it's called an accident: noun: an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in damage or injury.
A mishap, misfortune, calamity, problem, tragedy or misadventure. Oops! We may not have paid adequate attention. Or thought we were invincible -- not going to happen to me. And stuff happens just because we live in a broken world. Stuff gets broken. Including us. Including our pride. Lesson one in humility.
Restricted to the use of one hand, albeit my dominant hand, I have discovered the past seven weeks, the simplest activities border on the impossible. Try opening a zip lock bag with only one hand. Pulling back your hair. Peeling a mandarin orange. Tying your sneakers.
As one of my practical and philosophical daughters pointed out, “You never
realize how much you need something ‘til it’s immobilized in a sling.”
I have deeply appreciated the care and concern of others as they observe my bandaged useless arm. I am obviously wounded. But my experience has made me even more sensitive to those who are chronically hurting, even with pain that is not so visible, the deep injuries of the soul. How can I care for them? How can I love them through this?
It is not a shame to ask for help. Nor a sin to accept it.
Indeed our selfishness and so-called self-sufficiency are what turn away another’s opportunity to love us. I heard a story on NPR yesterday about a man who also had a broken arm. He was picking up his dry cleaning. He carried part of it to his car. A woman he did not know approached him in the parking lot, "Could you use some help?" the woman asked him. "No, I'm fine," he replied. While he struggled to put the load in his car, the woman went into the dry cleaners and came out with the rest of his order. After she placed it in his car, she turned to him and said, "You have been helping people your whole life. It's your turn to accept it now. It makes people really happy to help you."
“I don’t want (or need) your help” is not a sign of strength at all. “I can do it myself without you” is the slam of a door in the face of a relationship.
A willing heart, which the Bible emphasizes, goes both ways. Willing to help and willing to accept.
Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Hebrews 4.16 When we draw near to Jesus, we do not just find grace to help in time of need. We find the grace to accept it too. And as a result, we discover the nurturing of a deeper relationship, a stronger realization that we need each other. And that goes both ways.
Those who offer assistance, encouragement and help are not just being nice. You are not a burden. Nor weak. Let others love you. Let someone peel your mandarin.
