Loving Arms

Oh, how hard it is to be human sometimes. I want to be the strong, in-charge, go-getting superwoman that I  used to be, but she is not always available!  I want to be the lead oxen, to pull the load, to uplift, uphold, and support everyone and everything around me.  There was a time that I had a full time job, 5 children, a husband in college and holding a full time job, held church callings, participated in girl scouts, ran the house, raised a garden, raised animals and so much  more. I slept hard, worked hard and charged out of the gate each day as if I were invincible.
For the last 20 years, I have been taught the limits of the human body. I have been tested with illness, loss of children, loss of home through fire and hurricane and so much more. Through it all, I had my loving web of support, my family, friends and dear loved ones to walk through it all.  In spite of the inablility to continue my life as I had before, I could not give up the notion that I was the one who was leading the pack.
Oh my goodness, the lesson has come home.
How hard it is to let others help  you. How hard it is to release your will and depend on someone else, instead of being the hero.  I truly believe that learning to let go and let others be there, to give of their love and their time and whatever else they can give is a truly celestial goal.
I find so much joy when I can do something for someone else. My heart glows and beats with joy when mine are the hands that serve, help, and donate. I have often been told to "learn to say no", and to let others take part, but I want that feeling of complete joy and spiritual fullness that comes when someone thanks you for your sincere effort on their behalf.
Today, I became ill at church.  My blood sugar levels dropped very low, and I became faint, and with the help of a dear friend, barely made it to a chair. The panic that I felt was so intense, the desperation to not collapse in front of people and the fear of shame and exposure were too much to bear. Soon, my conciousness began to wane, and I had  no choice but to accept the enevitable. I remember saying, "I am going to pass out", and then seemed to slip into a dark void.  This is not the first time this has happened, indeed, it happens all the time, but usually with Martin or the family, who know what to do and how to help me.
Today however, other arms and hearts reached out for me.  Somehow, I kept asking for Becky, and she was summoned, and took over. She instructed others to get some ice and a cold compress, to find something to elevate my sugar, and to calm the people who witnessed the incident.  Becky produced some baby food fruit puree, forced it between my lips, while others wiped my face and arms with compresses.  Soon, I began to regain conciousness. I was very confused, but worse, very frightened. I was frightened that my Sunday School children had seen what happened. I was afraid that maybe I had fallen on someone, and afraid for so many other reasons.  Beneath it all, I was comfortable. Something strong and sure supported me, and another voice of reason spoke softly but strongly to bring me back to reason, speaking words of authority on my behalf. Other slender hands held mine and spoke to me, and  yet other hands wiped the tears from my face. I heard a tiny voice ask if I was being given a blessing. My precious Becky was constant in my vision, her voice and touch my lifeline.
As my vision cleared, I saw the kindest, most loving eyes and faces. Everyone was so concerned for me. No hint of mockery was there, only the desire that I be allright. My tears started again, but they were tears of gratitude.
I realized that the strong support was a dear brother who is blessed with size and strength, who seemed easibly able to keep me from falling. The voice of reason was  another brother who is a medical professional, who gave his love and knowlege unhesitatingly. The slender hands belonged to my visiting teacher, her comforting words a blanket of security, the tiny voice her little daughter who I had just taught in Sunday School.  My lifeline was Becky, who's confident knowing manner lead me back to reason.
The time has come in my life to embrace the change that comes with human fraility. I am so blessed to have my web of love and support. I know that even though I could have been the butt of gossip, I never will be. I know that those who reached out for me today, will be there again if I need them. I can pass the mantle of control to such loving arms, and instead of basking in the glory of service, I can bask in the gratitude of having others to help as much as I want to help.
With all those loving arms, I knew, absolutely knew, that I was loved. I have walked through another door in my life, finally at the age of 57, to the knowlege that I don't have to do it all. Others are willing to assist  me in this new chapter of my life, as I have always been willing to assist. What a glorious concept it is to know that I am loved.