This week I took a short trip with my youngest daughter flying from Michigan to North Carolina to see a granddaughter graduate from college. What a great time I had not only seeing this granddaughter graduate, but also seeing my oldest daughter and all of her family.
For my daughter and I it was a learning experience.
Many years of my life I have spent teaching, helping, caring for my children and grandchildren. For many years I was the one in the kitchen fixing a Thanksgiving meal, playing on the floor with the grandchildren, being the “helper” for the family.
Slowly as my children have grown up and had children of their own I have taken less responsibility and they have done the cooking, the “helping.”
But still I saw myself as a strong, independent woman who tried to be a source of help and encouragement to my family. I certainly could take care of myself and did not need help.
But this trip revealed to me that this old body of mine is not what it used to be and it is now my time to accept help from others.
We drove into the airport at Detroit. My daughter asked for a wheelchair for me to get to our gate. But my pride insisted I did not need that. I could walk. Being patient with me my daughter walked along with me and had to slow her steps down to accommodate me as I struggled to keep going.
By the time we got to our gate I was in so much pain. My legs just refused to cooperate and let me walk long distances. My poor daughter was faced with the task of insisting that “Mom, you need a wheelchair when we land in Greensboro. You can’t walk that far again.”
How I so wanted to say that was not true. I was still young enough to get through an airport on my own. But my aching legs told me I needed to listen.
So – at Greensboro we were met by a kind man with a wheelchair who wheeled me all the way through the airport to the area where my daughter rented a car for our time in Greensboro.
Throughout the trip it became clear that I needed help – getting in and out of the bus that drove us from terminal to terminal, carrying my bag, walking up stairs. At the graduation both my daughters and son-in-love were there to give me support as I climbed up the stairs in the coliseum where the graduation ceremony was held.
So my daughters and I began to navigate that journey
- for my daughters – how do we help our mother without making her feel stupid or incapable of doing for herself?
- for me – how do I accept the help I need with grace and thankfulness for their love and offer of help?
It’s a journey we will have to continue to navigate. I need to continue to do for myself all I can, but I also must accept that the time has come to accept some help.
There were a a few moments of frustration as I tried to tell my daughter where I saw a parking spot or give advice on something where I really knew what I was talking about, but she seemed to ignore me.
Then I had to laugh as I told her:
“I got mad because you didn’t listen to me and I knew what I was saying was right, but then I had to think why would she listen when I just ordered a drink, walked over to the dispenser to get my cup and had to ask her what size drink I just ordered”
We both shared the laugh.
I’ve still got lots of life and enjoyment ahead of me, but as I continue to age, I pray that I will age gracefully and be a person of joy and laughter and be humble enough to accept the help I need.
Not sure who actually wrote this, but today it seems appropriate:
My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.
When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way… remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to walk, to eat, to read. to dress yourself.
When my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked.
I hope this post does not sound like I’m ready to “kick the bucket.” There are still roads trips to take, friends to meet, flowers to plant, much more life to enjoy. Just recognizing it may be time to walk a little slower and be a little less prideful in my own ability.
The Good Book says “pride goes before a fall.” Now I realize this was not about actually walking but I had to laugh as I thought – “In my case too much pride to accept help just might mean a fall for me.”