Do it yourself?
One Tuesday afternoon, my husband and our granddaughter are on their way to the playground. They walk along a country lane together, which reminds our sweetie of something. “Grandpa, I’d love to go on a night hike again,” she says. Because the two of them have walked together on this very same country lane at night before, a flashlight in hand. “Well, you’ll have to spend the night with us again sometime,” my husband replies. I had just told the kid the day before that she and her mom would be spending a “vacation” at my place next week while my husband was on a trip. “I’ll be staying with you next week,” is her clever reply. “Yes, but I won’t be there. You’d have to go on the night hike with your mom,” my husband explains to her. To which she replies: “Oh yes, we’ll be looking after Nana (that’s what she calls me). Normally you do that. You’re her butler!”
We were still smiling about this statement from our granddaughter for days. I have no idea how a six-year-old comes up with the term “butler” in this day and age, but when I happened to look at the definition of the word ‘butler’, it got me thinking: “Servant in a noble household”, it says. Now I’m not so much concerned with the word “servant” per se in this definition. However, even though I definitely don’t consider my husband to be my servant, nor hopefully treat him as such, he often has to “serve” me to make up for my physical deficits. And to be honest, that’s something I’ve had to learn over the years: to let other people serve me. Because I prefer to do things myself. I don’t want to be dependent on other people’s help. No: autonomy, self-determination, independence are words that are much closer to me. I don’t like it when I have to be served by others, when I’m dependent on help. And it’s probably the same for many of us. It’s often easier to help others than to be helped.
Autonomy and independence are great things, but sometimes they can also be a mark of pride. At least for me, because I don’t like asking for help and although I’m better at it now, I still sometimes find it difficult that I have to ask for help so often. But isn’t the flip side of this that it can also bring joy to those who help, because they feel somehow needed? If only my pride didn’t keep getting in the way …
This “neediness” of mine then leads to touching encounters at one point or another. A few weeks ago, I was standing in my wheelchair at a breakfast buffet and suddenly heard a voice behind me saying: “If you need help anywhere, just tell me.” The words came from a person who was not in good health himself. Nevertheless, this person was willing to “serve” me. Very touching!
Have you already let yourself be “served” today?
