A Pastor’s Perspective
By Sharon Latour
Today we’ll finish a two-part piece about the surprise of waking from what was supposed to be a minor meniscus repair, only to discover I had seriously damaged my right femur where it connects to the bottom leg bones at the knee.
The kind young surgeon was emphatic, “If you don’t do exactly what I tell you, we could be back in there applying cadaver bone to try to re-patch that spot.” And he had a fellow on hand to strap me into the motorized device that would bend and straighten my knee at least five hours a day for six weeks.
A seminary friend got me home, I hobbled up the stairs on crutches, the machine was delivered, and I began my uncertain road to recovery. There were no guarantees this surgery would work. I could do all this rehab and hobbling around for nothing. That was a tough potential disappointment to imagine getting through.
The only bright spot was having a doctor order me to never, ever run again. And I mentioned last week that I had a funny sense this whole surprise was going to be good, somehow.
But the biggest hurdle, even more than the possible re-operation scenario with dead people parts in
It was relatively simple at first, as I had a week’s worth of clothes and food and had cleaned the compact apartment. But what about a week from then...and for a month after that!? Eternity. And how to get up the seminary hill to class? (I don’t care if you’re a world-class gymnast, I defy you to crutch down three flights and then up a 1/4-mile worth of stairs to the academic buildings!)
I’m still realizing life lessons I learned from my supine and vulnerable position. But the main one was: Ask for help when you need it; you will get it. But here was the part I had dreaded: What if people say “No.”? And people did say “No.”
Mind you, people didn’t say “No” directly, because it was a seminary and there seems to be an appearance of holiness factor that says you can’t be direct in refusing to help someone in need.
But you can just keep your apartment door closed, (The “ajar” position behind the screen door means “Welcome.”) which is what my perpetually aggravating next-door neighbors did. (They had certifiably aggravating quirks.) I admit I let that bother me more than I should have.
Their silent, closed door of refusal to acknowledge I was vulnerable, for one of the very few times I was forced to give up my prideful independence, was hurtful. And they weren’t the only ones.
But then it became a game between God and me to start to notice who did offer help, and when and what they did once they offered. Being generally vulnerable became less generalized; it got more specific because the world began to be broken down into sub-strata. I noticed four main groups of givers from my highly unscientific apartment behavior data gathering.
(1) The Happy to Help group (are the “Truly Cheerful Givers,” characterized as such, because I am not qualified to offer diagnoses beyond surface observation); (2) The “Of Course I Will Help!” group (”What else would you expect of a good person?” is the subtext, for them); (3) The “I’m Going to the Store Anyway, can I pick up a couple of things for you while I’m there?” group (”It’s no bother; you’re not going to become a burden are you? These are the terms of my giving contract with a demanding world”); and (4) “I’m Busy Now, but can we sit down and figure out when I can help you, and with what?” group (Fraught with human frailty to the core but wants to be a good person so much).
Number four was my personal favorite strata of giver. Number fours helped me see myself the most clearly. I will probably never have the lovely self-and-other simultaneous awareness of #1, the “truly cheerful giver.” Number two has real anger issues that, for some blessed reason, didn’t land on my personality. (I struggled most to receive from this person, and never asked twice.)
Number three is probably the most common type of helper I know. In our too-fast-paced culture, we do want to be helpful. But you never know what you’re getting into with some folks, who have learned that asking for help from just the right people can make your life really, really easy! So the “I’m going there right now, anyway, helper” takes care of boundary issues, at least in the short term.
But back to Number Four. I ended up discovering three new friends who helped me most often and taught me that, for all the scores of other community dwellers, I will always find a handful of busy, but intentionally willing, Number Fours. (Or whatever style of giving and receiving, perhaps not reflected in this laughably limited “armchair study,” is most authentic for you.)
I’m convinced it takes a village to make a village thrive. But that’s the 5,000-foot view of life. In the close-up view, instead of noticing that there seems to be no one there for you, just look again.
I’m willing to bet, if you’ll force yourself to truly pay attention, you’ll notice your special handful of unique people who give in a way you are able to receive without the compulsion to even the tally on life’s imaginary giving/receiving score sheet. And people with whom you enjoy sharing what you have (time, talent, stuff) without expecting anything in return.
If you have already grasped all this: “Bravo!” Be sure to thank your friends or family for such a precious gift of mutual trust and love. If not, I sure hope it won’t take a near-crippling accident to get your attention, as it did me.
By the grace of God, I am fully recovered and grateful to do nearly anything I want to. And I am convinced if I hadn’t been forced to stop running, I might have missed out on one of the most crucial gifts of life. I finally understand something about give-and-take in this world, this imperfect but potentially heavenly village. So, what do you think?
Shalom!
(Note for Friday Night Youth high schoolers and volunteers: We’ll plan to watch a film Friday at 6 p.m., after dinner at 5:30 p.m., at the Community Presbyterian Church in Garberville.)
Sharon is pastor of the Garberville Community Presbyterian Church. Services are open to all on Sundays at 11 am. (Elder Clif Anderson is preaching this Sunday.) Comments or questions should be addressed to: Dr. Sharon Latour, c/o A Pastor’s Perspective, P.O. Box 65, Garberville, CA 95542. (707) 923-3295.
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