Put Your Hand in Water

…and then pull it out. Do you see a hole?

I struggle with pride. I flatter myself that I am capable, creative, efficient, and clever. In my frenzied past I have stepped up to volunteer (I hate the vacuum that happens when a group is asked that and no one steps up), and in doing so, I have overcommitted myself. Then commences the ridiculous hours, the frustrated attempts to “collaborate” with other people who have a MUCH better handle on their own boundaries and what they are willing to undertake, that results in me doing things by myself and then feeling a mixture of mild resentment and self-satisfaction. I had a long conversation yesterday with a kindred spirit in the body of a sixteen-year-old. It brought to the front of my mind this on-going battle. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I had to stop all the extra-curriculars. It caused me pain to do that. I dreaded the loss of control…I couldn’t control what was happening to my body, I couldn’t bear the thought of not controlling ANYthing. It turns out to my dismay and humility that the world went right on turning, whether I was at the helm or not.

I have had time to recover and have resumed a couple of small but important tasks. My hand still itches to raise when anyone asks for help. I am slower to do this now, not so much because I don’t want to help, because I do. It occurred to me that if I rush in to fill every need I perceive, I am standing in the way of someone else having an opportunity to serve. If you pull your hand out of a bucket of water, there isn’t a hole where your hand used to be. The water fills back in and invites the next hand, or foot, or whatever. Learning to let go of the drive to fill the needs and welcoming the nudge to serve in more meaningful capacities is on my mind.