As a pastor and spiritual leader, I have spent a great deal of my life caring for others and urging those in my flock to care for others as well. The mandate to be our brothers' and sisters' keepers is clear in all of the world's great religions, and I've gotten pretty good at fulfilling this greatest commandment.
But in the ten days since my fall and since being on these dreadful crutches, lugging around my 80 pound casted leg, I have been on the receiving end of the care of others, and I'm no bloody good at that. I have no idea why it is so difficult, so uncomfortable for me to receive the kindness of others. Last Thursday, my brothers and sisters in the Living Vision Community canceled our regular gathering and devoted the entire two hours to helping me move out of the family cottage in Bay View and into my new apartment in Petoskey. They showed up with a meal, boxes, and bags and started packing and transporting my stuff to my second floor apartment on Sheridan Street.
I couldn't help them! I couldn't pitch in. About the only thing I could do was tell them what to do, which was even worse given that I, myself, could do nothing. They were all smiles, even the couple who stayed behind at the cottage after the last box had left, scrubbing out the filthy refrigerator before defrosting it, something I didn't have the heart to ask anyone to do. They just did it.
Then today, I open up my mail and find three checks from people I hardly know, folks from a church in Chicago where I preach every now and then. They had heard of my accident and that I have no health insurance..."We just wanted to help," their cards said. I squirmed with an awkward discomfort. Is it humility?...Being out of control?... Some sort of pride that is making me resist all this unmerited goodness?
In the end, I don't know. And maybe it doesn't even matter. I am humbled by all this goodness that has come my way. I am grateful to have such people in my life. And I am inspired to join forces with them the next time somebody crosses my path in need.
Thank you! Thank you SO much!
Eloise Anna Jones
A Reader at 8 months!
papa and Weezie
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1 comment:
Toby, great article. I think most pastors struggle with this; I know I have, and I do. I think being a pastor is a good place to hide the fear of others loving us. To be loved by another is to surrender some of our autonomy, and by being the giver, rather than than receiver, we stay in charge, and manage to look good, as we give our stuff to others. I will never forget the first time a lay person came by my office to pray for me. It was deeply unsettling. So, we learn. One way or the other, to trust the love and kindness of others. God's Peace to you, Toby, and swift healing, both of body and of soul. Hope the turkey tasted good, and a Merry Christmas to you.
Tom ... and would you believe? the word verification is "beanness" ...
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