Sunday, November 24, 2013

Rescued From Foolish Pride

My family a few months before this story.
When Derek was Bishop, and I was pregnant with Dan, I had five other kids, and a big giant church bag.  It was a heavy bag even when it wasn't full, but usually it had quite a few things in it.  Jake was 4, and he did not like church.  I was really good at getting us all there on time, but I was not good at getting Jake to enjoy Sacrament Meeting.  Therefore, I usually spent that hour and ten minutes wrestling with Jake in the foyer until, somewhere towards the end of the meeting, we could come back in, and he would sometimes fall asleep.

Bishops are busy, and as soon as the meeting was over Derek would be surrounded by people who needed his help with various things.  He could no longer help me get the kids where they needed to go, or help carry the heavy bag.  I think in my mind I had stubbornly decided that since Derek couldn't help, I would just manage by myself.  So, my older four kids would go to class, and I would try to figure out how I was going to get a sleepy four year old, a big bag, and a big belly down the hall to class. 

Of course, people are kind, and my Mother-in-law would come over and ask me if she could help.  I always said something like, "No, I can get it".  She would head to class while I berated myself for being a fool.  How was I going to get to class without help?  I needed help!  Why had I said no?  And then, while I was thinking this, my friend Shellie would come and offer to help.  Unfortunately, even though I knew I really could use the help, I would hear myself saying, "No thanks, I can get it".  And then, after she looked at me doubtfully, and asked again, I would assure her I was fine, and then nearly cry when she left.  Even friends from other wards offered to help.  These people were all doing the right thing by offering, and I knew that they were sincere, and willing, but my pride just wouldn't allow me to admit, out loud, that I needed help.  I could get to class, but it was really, really hard, and I should have accepted help.

The really foolish thing is that I would do the exact same thing week after week.  I would go home so tired from the day and frustrated with how hard everything was.  I was even frustrated that I couldn't seem to accept help when it was offered.  And then, my children came to the rescue.  Somehow they recognized my plight, and started picking up my bag after church and announcing that they would drop it off by my class.  I never had to manage everything again, and I was, and am, so proud of these kids who, week after week, carried a heavy bag so that I would not have to, and rescued me from my foolish pride.

1 comment:

Mike said...

The first time that I truly and sincerly called to the LORD was when I was in UK hospital after my 2nd surgery.After a morphine induced nightmare in which I dreamed that I died I woke up crying scared out of my wits.After minutes of trying to cope by myself I finally prayed.I'm still stubborn to a point but am willing to turn things over to the LORD more than I used to.