For as long as I can remember I’ve been a pretty independent individual.
When I was about 9 months old I decided I didn’t just want to walk, I wanted to run. So as soon as I was steady against something I would take off- running across the room until I fell flat on my face. And I did that over and over again until I learned to run and subsequently walk.
In middle school I sprained my ankle 3 or 4 times over the course of 2 years. Each time I remember finding different ways to get from class to class on my own. I would limp around, staying near the walls of the hallway in case I might need to steady myself. Or when I had crutches I would jimmy my loaded backpack on so I could go up the stairs without having to drag it up or worry about losing my balance.
Never once did I consider asking someone else for help as an option. It probably didn’t even enter my mind. When I see someone else in need, my first instinct is to see how I can help them. But when it’s me, the last thing I think of is reaching out for help from those around me.
This has helped me a lot in life by making me a great problem solver. I’m pretty competent at handling unusual situations and can keep really calm during emergencies. I’m also capable of processing through a lot of things on my own.
It’s also hurt me a lot. It took me quite a while to learn to ask God for help and actually receive the hand He was offering. I remember being in 6th grade and begging Him to save me from the dark pit of depression I couldn’t climb out of no matter how hard I tried. Yet, looking back, I can see multiple people and opportunities were if I would have confided in them, I think they would have been able to help me. I just didn’t see it as something I could do. I didn’t know how to see it.
Throughout the years God has been ridiculously faithful. He has stuck with me and been there when no one else saw that I was struggling. He has held me in His arms through grief and loneliness and repentance. And He has held my hand during change and growth and newness.
I gradually shifted from me living this life to me and God going on this journey together.
But I was still in a sense going it alone.
Over the years I have found some amazing friends who have walked with me through lots of different seasons. I have shared the depths of my heart and thoughts with them and know I can count on them if I ever really needed them. But if I’m not with them I never feel like my need is that great. So if we’re physically together, I’ll reach out. But if we aren’t, I continue figuring things out on my own.
Throughout these 5+ months God has been challenging me in just about every possible way I never imagined He would work in me. He has used method after method that I couldn’t have seen coming even if someone had told me. And throughout each situation and revelation He has challenged me to reach out to my teammates and squad.
From this I have learned how to share in front of 40+ people how God is working in my life in all the hard ways without excuses and without reservation. I have learned how to live my days knowing I don’t have a secret (cause I’ve told at least a couple people on the squad). I have learned how to cry when I need to cry and laugh when I want to laugh. I have learned how to speak truth without (or despite) fear of judgment. And I have learned how to trust people in ways I never have before.
All of this was tested when I hurt my arm a couple weeks ago. That afternoon in the clinic, waiting to be flown to Ho Chi Minh, I had to let my teammates help me in ways I’ve never let anyone be there for me. I was helpless. I couldn’t go about things in my usual manner no matter how much I wanted to.
I was in so much pain, I had to be reminded to breathe so I didn’t pass out. I had to sit by and let my friends fight for me when the nurse misunderstood my injury and wanted to wrap my arm in bandages. I had to humble myself when I couldn’t hold a fork steadily and had to be fed spaghetti. I had to acknowledge and fight past pride when I couldn’t reach the toilet paper in the bathroom because the dispenser was on the same side as my hurt arm (and I couldn’t turn because of my IV stuck in my other hand).
I came face to face with my pride, false humility, and fear of being a burden/ inconvenience during my stay at the hospital and throughout the healing process. It has not been easy. It has not been without pain. But it has not been without fruit either.
I am still overly independent. I have often taken the more difficult route instead of the easier path. I have fought to do things on my own and to be as capable as I can. I have found all the creative ways to keep pushing myself forward. And I have shown myself that I can do a whole lot more by myself than I thought I could.
I have also learned how to receive help when people offer it. I have learned to ask for help when I need it. I have learned how to give myself grace in moments when I just can’t do what I want/ need to be able to do. And I have grown in the ability to find things I can do when it looks like I can’t do anything.
I’m still processing through all of this. Hopefully I’ll continue to learn from this experience even now that my arm is free of casts and stitches. There is still healing and strengthening that needs to happen. And I sense that God has more to challenge me with, in this whole dependence thing.
My goal though is that after all of this, I don’t fall back into my old ways. I don’t want to go back to trying to do everything on my own. I don’t want to lose the connection of trust and love that has come from this. So I’m going to fight to keep choosing to reach out, whether for emotional or physical need.
We’re all in this thing together and we are so much stronger when we’re united in community.
My prayer for you is that you learn from my mistakes. Don’t be bull-headed or stubborn. Don’t try to carry more than you should. (There is a difference between what we’re able vs. should carry.) Accept grace and share it with others. Leave your lonely island and join us on the mainland.
I love you all~
