I climbed into my bed, between fresh flannel sheets and turned on the television. I was seeking refuge from the biting cold and the busyness of the Christmas season. I looked through the guide hoping for anything but a Christmas movie.
For the last 6 years, I’ve worked a seasonal job at the mall. I tend to dread shorter days and this job keeps me physically busy for 6-8 weeks during those dark days. But towards the end of my tenure, it becomes more than I need. My shifts get longer and I neglect my Christmas to-do list. All I want to do when I get home is hibernate.
I chose the British show, ‘Call the Midwife’ and settled in. A young woman was leaving jail. She didn’t have documentation (birth certificate, etc.). Because of this social services weren’t available to her. This kept her from suitable housing. She couldn’t receive the resources she needed to get back on her feet.
She was pregnant and alone. It was snowing outside and she was on the streets when she went into labor. They turned her away at every door. With the pain of labor increasing, she cried out, “Help Me”. Two characters from Nonnatus House heard her cries. They went outside and found a cold and frightened young woman.
While the Christmas plot was not lost on me. I still wanted a distraction. I’ve been mulling some writing ideas for a while now and feel overwhelmed by the prospect of starting something entirely different. With this new endeavor, I confess that I don’t know what I’m doing. Even though this prospect scares me, I can’t seem to let it go.
It feels like I’m stuck in a space between two ideas: who am I to write this thing and why am I not the person to write this thing. I’m a paralyzed with fear of what to do next. With my job wrapping up, I’m realizing that it is time to face those nagging insecurities and get to work. But how?
Hard as I try, I can’t chase these thoughts away with mind-numbing tv. Silently I surrender. It feels desperate but I pray, “I’ll do it, Lord. But you’ve got to show me how.” I turned my attention back to my program, giving little thought to my prayer.
Once inside the birthing room, exhaustion sets in and the frightened young girl cried out, ” I can’t do it. I can’t. I don’t know what to do. Her words expressed the same way that I felt. Was God responding to my prayer in real time?
Nurse Phylis sat at her bedside, took her hand and asked her if she could remember doing something for the very first time when she had no idea how to do it. The young woman thought back and said, “I don’t know… I think I can remember learning to knit when I was little.” Nurse Phylis smiled and asked, “Who taught you?” Recalling the memory, she seemed to calm a bit. “My mum. I can remember her voice talking me through the stitches: in, over, through, off.” Nurse Phylis smiled, “I have delivered many babies and so I am going to take you one step at a time through this process. We will do it together.”
I could feel my heart quicken. In, over, through, off. Simple steps. I can’t do this alone. But with God’s guidance, I can. It feels as if he has taken my hand and said, we will do this together. My heart was overflowing. I felt confirmation and love. I felt seen.
Friends, if you need something ask. If you want something, ask. No matter how hard or far-fetched it may seem, ask. God wants you to be happy. He wants you to realize your dreams. Learning to ask for help is hard for us. While the answers don’t always come in such dramatic fashion, stay awake because you never know where you will find God.
This is your recovery. Your recovery is just as important as your loved one’s recovery. Each bit of healing, by each family member builds on the other. Ask God to hold your hand. Ask him to guide your steps. If you are afraid, do it anyway. Your family is watching.