Those Darn Bunnies

A dear friend came over yesterday and brought the makings for both lunch and dinner. She had arrived under the assumption that she would roll up her sleeves and help out in any manner that I chose. Unfortunately, my body and my calendar had me rescind on that offer.

Many people have offered to come to the rescue to help out Bob or me around the house. Now admittedly, I have never been known as an immaculate homemaker. Martha Stewart is not nervous of her demise due to my humble efforts. Even so, things tend to build up quickly. (That is not a pun to describe my family room table’s mountain currently growing faster than the mold in my refrigerator.) Bob drools at our window, just itching to be outside puttering in the yard while his body firmly anchors him to the couch.

We appreciate the many offers from our marvelous friends, but the acceptance of such proposals is not quite as easy as it sounds. You have to humble yourself to admit that you are no longer capable of many easy jobs around our home. I have become much better at those feelings and have gradually requested some assistance. Once people arrive set to do our bidding, we open not just our mind set but also our home’s disheveled appearance. A feeling of something close to shame silently chokes our pleas.

The goal yesterday was to finally put away the Easter decorations that still litter our home. I had planned to donate many items that continue to clutter our basement. My kind friend was unable to complete this task independently. My addled brain could not make such decisions. To sum it all up, Easter bunnies still scamper on our mantel.

In some ways, requesting help from even the kindest of friends declares that we are currently physically (or mentally J ) unable to complete day-to-day tasks. It also announces that we don’t think we will be able to do so anywhere in the near future. It almost is like waving a white flag. It not just humbles our pride but crumbles any self-esteem that still clings to our hearts. If we don’t ask for help, I get more angry and frustrated as those darn bunnies still glare at me. I need a genie to magically organize our belongings while we slumber and snore away in our bed.

Our basement is somewhat of a joke to our family as they question how so many boxes have transformed the basement into an obstacle course. They readily announce our shortcomings. Bob and I nod and admit our weaknesses with other feelings simmering away.

As I check over my writings, it sounds as if I am wallowing in self-pity and deserve to live in my squalor. I’m blessed to have people who care enough about me to want to help. I mustn’t let other emotions strangle their caring offers, but they must also acknowledge the multiple feelings that hide in my heart. It’s harder than it appears to open my doors to expose my faults. Oops! I’m starting to wallow again.

So if your offers are gently declined, let that go. We’re balancing the need to challenge ourselves physically with gratefully accepting the generosity of others. We’ll get there. Thanks for caring!