A couple of weeks ago I helped package up shoes and clothes and toys for nine orphanages in Africa. I asked several times, "Will they use this?" or "Is this helpful to them?" The woman in charge looked at me like I was crazy to suggest that Africans might not find Elmo stuffed animals, or fleece pajamas, or gold high heels helpful. The truth is she hasn't ever been to Africa.
I kept hearing the cynical, educated voice in my head say, "Don't impose our Western way of life on a culture that works in its own way." Later, with teary eyes, she told me that many of these children would get shoes for the first time in their lives because of our shipment. I cringed as I heard my internal voice argue that maybe life was OK without shoes. Is life OK without shoes? I don't know. I've never been to Africa. I've never had a moment without shoes unless I took them off intentionally.
And so I've spent a while digesting this experience. And I've decided that it falls into a category where I find myself too often--I think I'll do nothing until I know just the right thing to do.
No good.
Here's one of the lessons I learned when Chas was in the hospital. People asked what they could do. I mostly held them off and told them I'd let them know when I figured out what would be helpful. The truth is, I was too confused to know what would be helpful. I was waiting for just the right thing to ask them to do. The one, very most helpful thing I could think of, so that I would not use their help needlessly.
Many of them did not wait for me, but found things to do anyway. There were flowers and food. There were cards and emails and balloons. There were gas gift certificates and Happy Meals for my children. There were Franklin DVDs from the library and a CD player for the hospital room. There were Conference talks and phone calls and people who sensitively didn't stay too long when they visited. There was a bag that included fingernail clippers and a new toothbrush. There was a list of all 34 temple prayer-rolls that had been called. I think the list of helpful things people did could go on endlessly.
The point is, there was nothing that wasn't helpful at some level. Something is always better than nothing.
Sometimes we strike upon a way to fill the need perfectly. A few years ago my mother broke both of her arms. Her brother showed up with an electric toothbrush. Now that was a perfect match!
But, more often than not, we don't know how to fill the need exactly. Better for the need, and so much better for our own souls, to offer something rather than nothing.
2 comments:
This brought tears to my eyes. I don't know if it's because it's written so beautifully, because I've been the recipient of such service, or because of guilt. Perhaps all three. Thank you for the reminder. I will do something.
Thanks for the reminder, Honey. I took strawberries the other day because I couldn't think what else to do. I felt better and so did they.
Love
Mom
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