Accepting help.

So here is what I just figured out: I suck at accepting help.

Well, I knew that already.  People have been asking how they can help, right down to the specific help they want to give, for years.  Years.  And I just keep saying "thanks, I'm good". 

I'm actually quite good at asking for help and live on the theory "it doesn't hurt to ask"... but help in my home?!?!?  NO. FREAKING. WAY. EVER. THANK YOU.  In fact, my sister came and did dishes here once when I was bowled under by life and I still recall the significance of that day vividly: I let her do my dirty work, the work I had failed to get to.  Hmmmm, failed.  I hate failure in myself on an achievable project...yet I am very gracious towards others who may not achieve what they set to do.  Thoughts for another day.  Today: accepting the help of others

Disclaimer: Before you get the wrong idea, my house is actually quite lovely, no need to call the hoarding intervention show, there aren't sticky messes at every step... but, there's stuff and projects yet to tackle. Always.

For years I didn't want help in my personal space because:
1.) I was embarrassed that my house was that crazy disorganized or messy or untidy or piled with stuff in every corner
2.) It was too much work to contemplate organizing a helper to get a job done... heck, if I could get the 'organized' part down pat, the project would have been done already, right?
3.) I really like to GIVE help and so was just busying myself doing that
4.) Accepting help is to give up control over WHEN the project would be completed, and apparently, I am a bit of a control-freak

What the heck?  Seriously, so lame.  People have different gifts and abilities, we receive joy in different types of acts of service.  For me, the joy is in connecting people, time spent, working with/for not-for-profits, coordinating volunteers (ooooooh, love that!)... especially for a big event. 

This morning I was sitting on the toilet seat, waiting for the shower to heat up, crying because two dear friends were coming to clean.  I trust these women with my life.  I value them.  They know my heart.  They would not even bat an eyelash at the piles of wrong-size clothes spilling from their once-neatly stacked piles.  These women have seen me ugly cry, what's a little dust bunny or two among friends?  Nothing.   So why the heck was I crying.   ???  Part of it is that permitting the help was permitting these people in to my very own personal 'personal space'.   I love having people over and my desire for human interaction has always outranked my guilty conscience at not living in a magazine-perfect home.    Part of it is the reality of preparing for this long haul eviction of cancer: accepting help means maybe I am really sick and I'm not ready for that reality.

The week before my diagnosis there was no indication that I might have cancer but I had this random (God-paving-the-way) thought... yes, go ahead and laugh... "I can't have cancer, my house isn't clean enough!" 

Ya.  Dumbest. Statement. Ever.  And I think I didn't actually say "cancer" out loud, just in my head... in the ouloud version of my statement, alone in the car, I said, "I can't be sick, and have people come over, my house isn't organized, there are piles of paperwork and stacks of children's art, and bags of Halloween candies, and stuff and the clothes I didn't get to MCC (charity) yet!"

Nerd.  In fact, after being told the diagnosis everything was such a blur for all of us that no one would have noticed a dust bunny with fangs sitting on the coffee table!

So, this morning, I stepped into the shower and took a breath and turned the corner on allowing people in.  Not just into my life, my heart, sharing a glimpse of my deepest dreams and the inner-est recesses of my soul.  My heart is on my sleeve (meaning I share my emotions and thoughts pretty freely)... the harder thing for me is actually letting helpers into my house to clean or organize, into my bedroom even!

And I vowed to be gracious to the dear ones coming to intervene on my behalf in the war on dust bunnies and dirty toilets.  I hope I was gracious enough.  The lovely truth is that these two beautiful women do know me so well that they did acknowledge the big step this was.  And I am, yet again, so grateful for the help.

I'm sure cancer is going to strip away a few useless layers that I have been carrying around for too long.  I'm sure cancer is going to take me on an adventure that I never could have dreamed of, would never have wanted to.  It's all in recognizing silver linings... right?!  

Yes, I have cancer and that totally sucks big time.  Yes, I have to learn to willingly accept help... any help... even letting the people I care deepest about to come into my house and see me in my ugly-cried-out state and every dusty corner of this ivory tower I was hiding out in. 

Ivory towers are loveliest if you let people in. 

Moral of the story: Who can you let in today?  The person who keeps offering to bring you a coffee?  The child that offers to fold towels for you?  The teen who keeps asking if he can get the mail?   LET THEM.  What about God?  If you think about it, same thing.  God doesn't care if you are messy, made bad choices, have piles of stuff still to deal with.  He just loves you.  Jesus, come into my life.  Help me. Lead me.  Guide me. Direct me.  Amen. 

I shouldn't rob someone's joy just because I am stuck in my worry about letting someone see the dust bunnies.

Whoa.  Turned into a sermon.  All I'm saying is this: Kristin, let people help you.  It's good to accept blessings.  It is silly to turn blessings away.

Thank YOU for blessing me today... I love each of you dearly, though I may not even know you.