Life’s Interruptions: A Call to Humility
Life’s Interruptions: A Call to Humility
It happened at 2:30 a.m.—not my usual 3:00 a.m. wake-up call.
In this new season of healing and introspection, I was surprised by a thought that seemed to come out of nowhere: this season may require something from me that I never expected.
I may need to change my mindset—possibly even my lifelong pursuit of independence—and become more open to what I am beginning to think of as a call to humility.
I don’t know if it is my gender, my age, or simply my history of trying to be self-sufficient, but receiving help has never come naturally to me. Giving help is different. I understand that. I know how to show up, solve a problem, initiate something, lend a hand, or encourage someone else.
But being on the receiving end is harder.
As I dedicate more time to sleeping, napping, avoiding stress, and slowly returning to some of the routines I enjoyed before the brain bleed, I am discovering that healing may require more than allowing my brain and body to recover. It may also require me to become more willing to receive the gifts of time, energy, kindness, and resources offered by others.
The outpouring of support from friends and family has been beyond anything we could have imagined. Rides. Visits. Meals. Notes. Phone calls. Special acts of kindness. Almost daily, something arrives in the mail, appears on our doorstep, or comes through an invitation to help us restore one more small piece of our normal life.
None of it has gone unnoticed.
But accepting it has not always been easy.
The continual blessings have brought continual thanksgiving and appreciation—not only for the friends who surround us today, but also for relationships formed over decades. The list seems endless and continues to grow.
As my brain continues to heal, I am beginning to understand that perhaps something else is changing within me as well.
For much of my life, independence meant being responsible for myself. Figure it out. Solve the problem. Keep moving. Don’t unnecessarily burden someone else.
Maybe this interruption is teaching me that there is another side to independence.
Maybe there are seasons when strength means allowing someone else to carry part of the load.
Maybe humility isn't thinking less of ourselves. Maybe, sometimes, it is simply allowing another person the privilege of helping us.
I have spent much of my life trying to be there for other people.
Perhaps one of the unexpected gifts of this interruption is learning how to let them be there for me.