Help: We All Need Somebody, Sometime
Stained Glass at Children’s Hospital, Chapel
I have learned a thing or two about asking for help these past two weeks. I’m not sure why I’ve long been hesitant to ask for help, but I’ve got my theories. Maybe I’ve wanted to prove to my parents or to myself how much I could accomplish “All By Myself” (hear that 6-year-old voice within? I do!). Maybe because I was raised an only child with no cousins and we moved all over, a lot, I just got used to not knowing enough people nearby to bother asking. Maybe I simply grew up in a culture that puts too much of a value on privacy and independence, on “dealing with it ourselves.” Maybe I just haven’t been connected enough—haven’t prioritized getting connected, enough—to community to have people to call upon in times of need.
My partner Cathy has really been teaching me to ask for help. Most recently, our little Robin has been hospitalized twice in the past month for an infected congenital cyst and we have been right there with her at every moment. That means that all our other routines have been put on hold—all our routines: work, bills, laundry, groceries, cooking, e-mail, even refilling the cat’s water bowl (sorry, cats!).
In the big picture of our and Robin’s lives, we are fine. This is Life! I expect life (and parenting especially) to be filled with both joy and challenges. In the short-term, this cyst thing is, quite literally, a pain in the neck. We have to obsessively watch and clean R’s neck while we wait for the infection to completely subside, treat her for diarrhea caused by the infection-fighting antibiotic, and count the days until we can hopefully have another surgery to remove the cyst entirely.
In the meantime, I have learned a lot about the grace, goodness, laughter, kale, quinoa and polenta tamales that can come with asking for help. During times of stress, thank goodness for friends who cook. Thank goodness for neighbors who bring brownies and air mattresses to the hospital, for colleagues who set up meal delivery schedules online, bring daffodils in biodegradable cornstarch cups, and remind a worried parent to step outside for a little sunlight. Thank goodness for building-mates who bring accumulating newspapers and fresh diaper deliveries inside. Thank goodness for family friends who come over to visit and listen, hold the baby and happily eat whatever smorgasbord of leftovers can be assembled and heated up. Thank goodness for healthcare providers who gently say “she’ll be okay” and reassuringly repeat “you’re good parents.” Thank goodness for new friends who don’t hesitate when asked to do loads (and loads) of baby laundry.
At some point a neighbor-mama sat in our living room with me and spelled it out: “These days…when we’re all so busy…we need a reason to connect. An impetus. We need to be asked…but we all want something to do, a way to help each other out. Caring for each other through a crisis…however ultimately minor…helps us all have a stronger community.”
A couple of hospitalizations quickly puts my usual, day-to-day worries and to-do lists into perspective. One of the things I’ve re-learned is that cultivating time with friends—“hanging out”—is actually much more important than a lot of the stuff I usually feel like Must Get Done. Cause it’s the friends who are lasting, it’s the friends who are flexible and can change their schedules around and show up, it’s the friends who are going to be there to help during the rough times. It’s the friends who make us laugh, who dance to Teenage Dream in the hospital room while the baby is on “contact precautions” and can’t leave the room for days, it’s the friends who keep us company (and help keep us grounded, healthy, and sane) while we deal with the inevitabilities of life.
Thank you to all of you. We’re washing out your tupperware, your Pyrex and your Calphalon, and looking forward to returning each and every favor. Just, please: let us know what’s going on in your lives. Ask for help. Be specific, say “quinoa,” say “laundry,” say “cat food.” We’re on it. We’ve got recipes. We’ve got daffodils. We’ve got dishsoap. And we know that we need you as much as you, at some point, might need us.
Friends: The Spice of Life
If most of our life consists of basic repetitive tasks that are simple and predictable—some would say boring—it’s the people we interact with who make our days interesting. If our life were a soup, the people we know would be the spices.
Some people, like salt and pepper, are always nearby, always present at the table, every day. They are our basic fallback for a good meal. Even though we may get fancy with varieties, the basic flavor is familiar, easily accessible, comfortable to use. Other people are more rare in our lives, and have very particular ways in which we interact with them.
This morning, missing a particular friend, I found myself thinking that she makes me think of chipotle pepper. My handy dandy search engine told me that the adjectives often used to describe chipotle pepper include: intense heat, dark, smoky flavor, wonderfully hot and smoky. Yep, that describes my friend in a nutshell. When you miss her, you miss her particularity.
Reading those adjectives made me wonder about the adjectives commonly used to describe other spices, and how they might also describe people.
Do you know someone who is strong, sweet, and familiarly cool? That’s the mint in your life. And someone nutty, warm, spicy, sweet? That’s your nutmeg friend! On the other hand, if you are friends with someone who is bitter when raw, perhaps they are more like juniper berries.
Some friends, not to mention acquaintances, are like cayenne: They are very hot and spicy, so should be used with caution. Or like savory, should be used sparingly. Others must be interacted with very carefully, as they can stain, like turmeric. Or, like cloves, can quickly become overpowering—we need to use great care when working with them!
Some folks we know are slightly bitter, just like celery seed, marjoram, and paprika. Some are kind of nutty, like poppy, sesame, or carroway seeds. Some are earthy and pungent, like bay leaves.
Clearly not all people, or spices, combine well together, and all are best in particular kinds of situations, or dishes. Some are very versatile. Some are associated with particular cultures or nationalities. Some are great fresh and some really need a lot of careful cooking. Some, like cinnamon sticks, add flavor while cooking but should never actually be consumed.
In my kitchen, and in my life, I like to have all kinds of different options. Just as I would be unhappy with only using salt and pepper for my spices, I would be much less blessed if my friends were all of the same age, temperament, race, gender or culture.
In my kitchen, and in my life, I love variety. And while salt and pepper may be my go-to spices, I have no interest in a salt-and-pepper life! Thank heavens for a wide variety of friends who are spicy and diverse!