“Let us do away with a ponderosity of thought and approach the thing simply and quietly. It is the nature of the Universe to give us what we are able to take. It cannot give us more. It has given all, we have not yet accepted the greater gift.”    — Ernest Holmes, Science of Mind, p 42.4

I’ve never been one to ask for help. Having grown up without a parent or anyone else around most of the time, I learned to rely on myself and became fiercely independent. That usually works for me, though lately I’ve been experiencing much consternation regarding living alone in my sixties, and having no children I might be prone to rely on (without my asking, of course) should I become infirm.

In discussing this issue with a friend, I realized that I am able to comfortably and gratefully receive help if it isn’t personal, for example from my insurance company when they paid the entire $90K for treating/curing hepatitis C… thanks, much appreciated! Nor is receiving help difficult when I am able to barter; in the community where I live, I have reached out to trade cat care with several other women. The plan is, they watch my cats during vacations, I watch theirs – no monies are exchanged and everything works out ‘evenly’.

Yet there’s so much more to this than just feeling uncomfortable asking for help. Why don’t I think anyone would want to do anything nice for me? I think I have better-than-average self-esteem; is it contingent upon being self-sufficient? Gaaaah…

So, we create situations for our evolvement. I’m not saying I necessarily created the neuroma in my foot that required surgery, but I musta kinda have done so, because there it was, and my last option (short of manifesting it away) was surgery. The doctor told me I’d need to have three things in order before they’d agree to operate – a ride to the surgery center, a ride home, and someone to spend the first twenty-four hours with me.

Oh no.

I mentioned this situation at a CSLT board meeting and wouldn’t you know, three people offered to do these things for me? I mean, they worked it out who would do what and made sure I would be covered. I was floored. For one, I live on no one’s way to anywhere. In fact, I live so far northwest that I’m almost in Phoenix (according to a friend of mine, anyway.)

I had to say yes. I had to let them care about me. I had to trust that I really didn’t live too far away to bother with, that just maybe I was worth it. I had to let my good come to me in the form of loving friends. (Kindness makes me cry, sniff…)

It’s always been so much easier for me to give than to receive. Thankfully, I’m in the Wild Mind book study and I’ll probably find out why. I know how good it feels to me to give, to do things for people because I care about them. Why would I deny someone else that delicious feeling if they want to do something for me? Can I allow myself to be the object of someone else’s compassion?

“Keeping oneself from being loved was to refuse the ultimate gift. She was someone whose heart and mind, and very soul, had been battered and bruised. It was still – and always – safe to give since there was a certain deal of control to be exerted over giving. Taking, or allowing oneself to receive, was an altogether more risky business. For receiving meant opening up the heart again.” — Mary Balogh

–Renee’ Mercer