Something I need a lot of these days. And grace.
There is just a lot I do not know. How to say something, how to fix a certain dish, where to find something and in which store. How to do some of the very basic things of life are different from what I have known most of my life…and without help I just would not be able to do it. I mean, have you ever tried to carry a five gallon bottle of water down the street to your house to use for cooking and drinking? Neither have I. I had to ask someone else to help me.
I am surrounded my people who want to help. Rafa. New family…both blood and in Christ, neighbors, and the lady at the local store who bares with through my explanations of what I am looking for. Or tells me “6-7” when saying 67, referring to how much money I owe, cause well, they say numbers so fast here, that I still cannot hear the difference between 60 and 70.
But here’s the catch. I do not like asking for help. Admitting I need it. Or allowing someone who has offered to help, to actually help. Its embarrassing to admit that I actually need help. Humiliating. I prefer to labor through it on my own.
But that’s not an option. So I am learning…to ask, and accept, help.