In June (Mozambique) I felt useless because there were too many people and I felt I wasn’t needed. Then this month, I felt useless for the opposite reason. There was so much to do and a deadline looming, I wanted to push myself to help and to do things when my body was telling me otherwise. It’s ironic, really. I was trying to take the mind over body approach. I wanted to will myself to feel better. Despite my efforts and the prayers of others, it was NOT working. But, I was still too stubborn to go to the doctor, to seek help. WHY? Why didn’t I want to go to the doctor? Why did I continue to push myself when I knew what I really needed was rest?
If I’m honest with myself, I was relieved to hear that I had malaria. It was good to finally know what was wrong and not to have to continue to go back for more tests. But, a big part of my relief was that I knew MALARIA was sufficient justification for my laziness, my slacking off and not doing as much work as my teammates. I knew if I just had a cold or something minor, it would not (in my mind) have been an excusable reason to not be working when there are things to do. At least since it was malaria, I didn’t feel as guilty for not pulling my weight. Why is it so hard to rest? I know part of it is that I didn’t want my team and our ministry partners to think less of me. But, I suspect that there’s more to it than that.
Throughout my life, I’ve been taught and raised to be independent and self-sufficient. That is what our culture, society, and families teach us. It’s not all bad either. We need to grow up, to learn responsibility, to spread our wings and fly from the nest. But, in many ways, it has taught me that I can only rely on myself and not God or others. I’ve learned that I have to take care of myself because no one else will. I should not and can not ask for help because it would be futile and I would only be a burden. It has almost given me a Sammie against the world mentality.
When I was in college, I knew someone who used to call me “Super Sammie” like Superman. He said I should have a Big ‘S’ on my chest and a cape. He was always so amazed at how I could do anything if I really wanted to. He could never understand how in college how I could take 17 hours of classes, work 60+ hours per week, be on call 7 nights a week, spend time with my family every weekend, and spend all of my other time with him and still do well at all of it. Part of the secret is that I never rested, not sleeping or resting while I was awake. But I felt that I had to do it. I felt that I had to excel at everything and take everything on myself and do it for myself.
Growing up, I was not only self-sufficient to take care of myself, but sufficient enough to help take care of my disabled brother and my sister who was 10 years younger than me. Over the years, I believed that I have let go of the need for control, to be perfect, overachieving, and many other things. But, I am finding that I’m somewhat disillusioned when it comes to self-sufficiency. I feel that I am dependent on God and that I let others in, I let others help me, and that I’m not trying to be self-sufficient. However, I think that this near-death malaria situation has shown me otherwise.
In many ways, I guess I sub-consciously thought I was invincible. I felt like I shouldn’t have needs. And I don’t mean in the help me carry my bag kind of way, I mean more when it comes to emotional needs or real physical needs like health and safety. But apparently, that is to not be human. I don’t want to be needy or to be thought of as needy. I grew up with a brother that needed so much and so I was determined not to need anything, I did not to be a burden and an additional stress to my parents. I was seemingly successful in my mind, but what that really means is that any needs that could not be met on my own, were not met at all because I did not allow others to meet those needs.
After this Malaria incident, I told my Mom that I promise I will never again wait so long to go to the Doctor. She more or less said that she didn’t believe me. When I thought about it, I don’t believe myself either. If my greatest fear (or one of them) is “I don’t want to die alone” (a fear that was recently rediscovered in a painfully real way the night before I went to the Doctor), then I should be reaching out, drawing others in during my greatest times of need. However, I either let them walk away, don’t let them know the severity of how I feel or my illness, downplay the situation, or even push them away. WHY? Why do I do this? It has really hit me since the night when I really thought I was going to die, when I was laying on the bed in the dark alone, crying. Never before in my life had I ever really thought or believed that I was in my last moments, that this was it, I’m going to die. The worst part was that I was alone, completely alone. Those minutes before my teammate Teri came in the room was the low-point on the World Race for me.
Then the next morning, God gave Bekah a dream about lives being touched because we went to the clinic, but actually after praying about it, I believe that God meant that by going to the clinic my life was saved and by my continuing to live on this earth that God will use me to touch the lives of many people in the future.
