A couple of weeks ago, I woke up sick with the double whammy of a really intense migraine and mastitis. My husband had an important meeting at work he couldn't miss. My sister had work, and my other sister could (and did) help a little, but also had to do a million pick-up and drop-offs for her three children so couldn't dedicate her day to us. So my husband texted his parents at 6 am to ask them if they could come down to help with the kids. They live three hours away and they were at our house by 9:45.
They didn't just care for our three children (which would have been more than enough in our eyes)—they also cleaned, did mounds and mounds of laundry, and cooked for us. I was able to rest all day and I felt a heck of a lot better that night then I did when I woke up that morning.
Extremely incredible, right?
The day before this, I had asked my sister to come to the doctor with me to see if it was, in fact, mastitis that I was dealing with. The day my in-laws came to our house I asked my other sister to drive my daughter to school. And my mom, five hours away, (along with her prayer pals) were on the job praying for my speedy recovery. Both my head and my breast were in SO MUCH pain—I had absolutely no other choice than to rely on help from my village.
But when my husband texted his parents that morning I immediately said, "Colin I really wish you wouldn't have done that. I don't want to interrupt their whole week." I felt so guilty and anxious because of it. I wanted the help, but I didn't want to take them away from the things they needed to get done or wanted to get done.
And what I am realizing more and more is—they want to help us. They don't want to see us drowning. They don't want to see us suffering. What they want to do is whatever is in their power to help us stay afloat. They don't want to see us barely survive—they are hoping and praying and helping us to see us thrive.
Because when someone loves you and cares for you, they are invested in you, your well-being and your future. They are rooting you on. So they help. That's called being kind. That's the good stuff. (Take the good stuff.)
Now… why is it so hard for us to accept that as a fact, and not feel guilt or shame because A: we need the help and B: because we ask someone else for help, taking them away from their life and to-do list and priorities?
When I talk to my friends about asking for (or actually more like, not asking for) help, I hear things like:
"I feel guilty for putting others out."
"I feel like an inconvenience."
"It's hard to allow people to see me vulnerable."
"There's a lot of pressure to have it all together."
"I feel like I should be able to handle it, so maybe they will think that too."
I have felt these so hard. It's not easy being totally comfortable with other people doing things for me. But I know I need to have people in my life who I am able to be that vulnerable with. Being able to be the most honest version of yourself with someone—letting your guard down completely—that is a true gift. That's worth holding on to and worth utilizing.
Being vulnerable is honorable. It requires strength, grace and grit. You've got that inside you, so let yourself use it. Let yourself be helped. You are worthy of a whole village, mama.
I mean, realistically, we all need help at times. That's life. My sisters will need my help one day, so will my in-laws, so will my parents. Just like your neighbor will too, and that helpful mom at your kiddo's preschool. You will help them because you'll remember how amazing it feels to have been thrown a lifeline when you needed it most. That will make you feel good.
There will be stages of life where we will need more help than others. They're called seasons. Lean on your people in the busy seasons of your life.
Because—what if we all admitted that motherhood can be so, so hard sometimes? What if, after we did that, then we asked for help from the people we love? Or what if we just took it when it was offered to us? Without fear or guilt or inadequacy or feeling like we owe them or beating ourselves up over it?
That would be called support.
That would be called teamwork.
That, my friends, would be called love.
Love for one another, love for ourselves, and love for our village. ️
Author: Colleen Temple