Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Hunkering Down with the Pioneers
I’m sick. Nothing terminal mind you, just your average cough that will die out on its own but would be made so much better in its passing if I could just curl up in my bed (I have such a nice bed, I wish I could visit it more often!) and sleep. And that’s not going to happen. No one lets mommy sleep. I’ve been musing on why mormon women are so bad at asking for help. It doesn’t help that we have the whole pioneer woman, give birth on the handcart trail and keep walking mentality to fight against. We are awash in a culture that believes in a great deal of hunkering down and sucking up. And I know that I have personally listened to the mocking of those who require a husband to take sick leave from work to care for a sick wife when she’s no more sick than I am. So, how do I muscle aside my own pioneer woman demons? I tried once. I had just given birth to a baby and was feeling very overwhelmed. DH had a brand new heavy duty calling and was overwhelmed in an entirely different direction and the RS secretary called and asked what I needed. I said meals through the end of the week would be FABULOUS. And I left it at that. A little while later, the compassionate service leader called to tell me that she was allowed to arrange for two meals but that’s all she was “allowed” to do. And I felt slapped. The food wasn’t the issue. Taking meals in to someone is so rarely about food. I had mustered up my humility as best I could and was effectively told that I was only allowed so much help, with the implication being that asking for more would not be pulling my weight. And even though this has been several years, I am ashamed to say, I have never fully recovered. Each time I begin to think I could ask someone for help, I hear that little voice in my head saying I should be able to do it alone, not doing so would be failing to pull my weight. So, whenever a visiting teacher, home teacher or anyone else says those magically dreaded words “is there anything we can do?” I smile sweetly and say “no, we’re fine”, whether or not we actually are. This is bad. This is pride. But where does humble hunkering end and prideful unwillingness to accept help begin? This mentality of mine, sadly, doesn’t end with the visiting teachers or newborn meals. I find myself trying to muscle out answers to prayers on my own–work harder, think harder and everything will be fixed, instead of giving my burdens, such that they are, to the Lord. What blessings and understanding and depth of testimony am I missing out on because I don’t ask for or accept help? How do you find the balance? Or are you just as bad at all this as I am?
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3 comments:
I think this is a constant battle/balancing act for women in general (not even just LDS women). I hear from so many friends that they never have enough time to do EVERYTHING. But no one seems to ask for help. I sit in Ward Welfare meetings where we seem to talk about the same people all the time even though I know others are struggling in some way. Don't know the answer, but maybe another directive from on high might be a good place to start. Something like - ask for and expect help!!
The meals thing makes me mad. Sure, we have a number of meals we "usually" provide for a new mom, but we always ask what they need and I highly doubt we tell them they only get two, no matter what. How is that true service?
And yes, I'm just as bad, even when I kindly chastise other women in the ward for not asking for help, I do the exact same thing. I think it's a woman thing and a Mormon thing, all wrapped up in a nice, dysfunction package. :)
In her defense, the RS pres at the time was squeaky new (like less than 1 week) and I think she was trying to find a standard that would be fair to those needing help and not taking advantage of the good will of the meal providing sisters. She is a kind and gracious woman and wouldn't want harm to come to anyone. I know that now; at the time I just found myself on the bad end of a poorly expressed "standard" and I have always wished for a way to say to those attempting to impose rules of thumb that feelings are so hard to mend, even when I know better. Imagine if I didn't?
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