I have a problem.

I would rather take care of people than for them to take care of me.

It’s a pride thing.

When I had surgery a few months back and was instructed by my surgeon not to lift anything over ten pounds for six weeks, I was bound and determined to comply for the sake of proven post-operative healing time.

But see, I like to pick up my five year old. And I like to move furniture. And I like to carry several grocery bags at once. And I don’t mind bringing in a case of water from the garage, or carrying the vacuum up the stairs, or even picking up my 13-pound cat…

One gal I know calls me a “doer.”

Which is why, when people from our church music department put together a “task force” to encourage me to comply with my surgeon’s instructions, I was reluctantly cooperative with their plan, which was they would provide dinner for our family of seven for a whole month so I would not overdo it, or at least take it easy for awhile.

These dear people did not simply provide dinner, which would have been fine; some brought enormous meals from our favorite restaurants and others made quite elaborate meals for us. It was way more than I would have asked of anyone.

I was so humbled by this generosity. I rationalized to myself that I could easily fix meals for my family without breaking my surgeon’s 10-pound rule; and since my husband loves to cook, we would have been just fine without this expression of kindness.

I finally caught it. The joy those precious people experienced when “doing” for us said it all.

My pride nearly robbed them of an opportunity to give. It’s not easy for me to receive from others. I have to remember that no feeling surpasses the joy I feel when I’m able to give to — or do for — others.

It’s not one of my favorite lessons, but we’ll call it a lesson learned.

 © Alexa Lopez 2008