On Being Served

I am, by nature, a servant. It’s one of my gifts, and one that I have had the opportunity to exercise often. In addition to being a wife who likes to serve her husband (really), I happen to have been given three children who rather like the fact that mommy is so willing to use her gifts in ways they can benefit from. :-) At my church, I am the Director of our AWANA Cubbies program, active in planing and teaching for Vacation Bible School,and I lead a table for new believers and seekers in our ALPHA program. For some reason, I am a main point of contact for people’s questions on homeschooling (don’t ask how this happened), and my living room has been the site of more curriculum shopping than I ever though possible. I am a deliverer of meals, a shopper for the homebound and a prayer warrior for those who need to add another voice calling on the Lord in their name.

What I am not is someone who is comfortable with being served. Grateful, yes ... but slightly uncomfortable. Like so many women, I hesitate before calling on others, even in times of great need. If given the chance, I will usually protest and say that things are fine, I can handle whatever it is. The events of this miscarriage have stripped me of that luxury--I have been laid so utterly low in my heart and body that my needs, and the needs of my family, are painfully obvious.

These past few days have brought me a whole new lesson on being served. I have nothing to offer anyone. I can not handle this by myself. I have needed Scripture, specifically Jeremiah 29:11. I have needed my husband, who has tended to me with love, caring and concern night and day for three days running. I have needed my beautiful children who have brought me leaves collected on their walks and kisses collected from their hearts. I have needed my friend who has cared for my children and made countless calls on my behalf. I have needed every neighbor who has dropped by with food and every well-wisher who has prayed for us. I have even needed my family, despite the fact that I haven’t yet had the heart to return their calls.

The worst physical aspects of the miscarriage are now over. It took longer than I had honestly expected, and was far more painful. And while I am regaining my strength of body, mind and spirit, I know I will feel that familiar tug back into self-reliance. My prayer is that I will not succumb. I know that the stages of healing from this loss have only just begun, and my needs will continue for some time. Perhaps one of the lessons the Lord has for me in losing this child is that I can be vulnerable, and not just to Him and Him alone. I can give *and* receive within the Body of Christ ...if only I will allow myself to do so.