Help Me!

“Mom, can you help me?” I hear inevitably when I have my hands soaked washing dishes or feeding the baby.

My oldest is a pretty independent kid and figures a lot out on his own. So whenever I hear this I know it means one thing… legos.

In his words, he doesn’t like to play with them, he just likes to build them. Over and over. It’s pretty impressive really. He keeps track of most of the pieces, follows the instructions very carefully, builds the whole set… and then takes it apart to do it again.

That’s where I come in. Taking some of those tight fitting pieces apart is the hardest part for my 5 year old. It takes a moms strong fingernails to pry them open.

I’d love to say I graciously perform the task that in reality takes less than 5 seconds on a good day.

But so often my answer is less than gracious.

You need to do it yourself

I can’t be taking these apart all day

I’m in the middle of something

I’ll do this one, but I’m not doing anymore today

Eventually, he brings yet another one and stands quietly next to me.

Not wanting to ask again for help. But still needing it. And hoping I will recognize his silent plea, and help him anyway.

……

“Help me.” Has become my most frequent prayer. Spoken under my breath. In moments of drama. Moments of monotony. Moments of insecurity.

Help me

By which I mean, I’m gonna lose it. Or I don’t know what to do. Or I love this so much and I never want to take it for granted. Or please let today stay this peaceful. Or help me salvage this mess of a day.

Help me.

I’m learning my need for help.

Or should I say I’m learning that while I have always needed help, there is no shame in asking for it.

I don’t need to pull myself up by my boot straps and get my act together.

I don’t need to figure it out for myself.

I need help from something outside myself.

In the good and the difficult. I can’t fix it or keep it on my own.

…..

“I help you!” As I hear the old flimsy (but trendy when we bought them) kitchen chair being dragged across the floor. A curly head scrambles up, insisting on stirring the pancake batter, or cracking the egg.

All she needs is a glimpse of me standing by the counter, and here she comes dragging the chair behind her. Not understanding that I’m chopping vegetables or cutting meat and she just can’t help yet.

So eager to help.

So willing to be involved in“ the process. She doesn’t even need an invitation. She is ready and waiting.

……

I lift my eyes to hills

Where does my help come from

My help comes from the Lord

Maker of Heaven and earth

…….

Next time, I tell myself, when he asks for help I’ll say “I’d love to help. I’m so glad you asked me.” Wanting to encourage his request. To help him to know his need is not a burden.

But somehow my subconscious need to be independent and self sufficient leaks all over my children. “I figure it out myself. I don’t ask for help. why do they??” Whispers a voice deep inside.

Because they are still a picture of beautiful, trusting dependence. Children who ask for what they need without shame.

Who have not yet begun to believe that their requests are burdens.

and I want them to never lose their willingness to ask for help. The humility behind letting someone in to the process.

Of course I hope that some day they can take apart their own Lego’s and do their own laundry.

I want them to learn in time to be independent in the way that any adult becomes independent of their parents.

But I want them to never lose their dependence on the Lord. And their sense of community that only comes when we bear each other burdens in the most humble way.

……

As I have learned more and more my need to go to the Lord for my help, I am still desperately in need of remembering that God hears and answers. The same way that my daughter is so eager to help, God is more so. When we ask, He answers. He supplies all our needs.

Wisdom

Patience

Strength

Joy

A car

A friend

His help might not be what we want, but it’s always what we need.

…….

One day I hope to not only believe that God will answer my pleas with His help and presence. But that I will also allow myself to practice this truth in the midst of my loving community. I have missed out on so much by trying not to be a burden. By grinning and bearing it on my own. Our independence while seeming a strength, can very much be an act of disobedience. We were made for one another. Not just to serve but to be served.

…….

My prayer for my kids is that they trust the Lord. That they know they can go to Him with anything, for anything. Not just their needs but their pain, fear, worries, and joy. I want them to know He bends down to hear, and He sets out to act.

I want them to be compelled to help others because they are so confident that their needs will be met.

I pray that they help others, not to earn love, but because they are so sure that they already are.