Accepting Help

As long as I can remember I have had an issue with letting others help me.  I rarely go to others asking for help, there are only a very small number of people I ask advice of. I prefer helping others, I prefer to give advice rather than ask for it.

 Recently after returning home from a women's bible study I was a mess.  I was sure I had been talking way too much.  There were several woman asking questions and me... I only answered questions... I only gave suggestions.... or shared experiences.  I never once asked a question.  I didn't put myself in a learning position.  I was disturbed by the experience.  I hate people who never want to learn, you know the type, the know it-alls.  Was that me? 

When Chris and I first married and his mother would come to visit, she was always doing things.  She didn't just wash the dishes, she moved everything on the counters and wiped them down completely.  She cleaned and cleaned and organized.  I was so offended.  Hurt.  I took it personal.  After all, if she felt the need to clean it must be that I had not cleaned enough for her.  (C).

This week, Vonda walked into my office and asked if she could help me by sending letters to the MPA representatives.  Let me give you a little back story.  A couple years ago the MPA board started a new sub committee of the board.  A marketing and recruitment committee.  I was invited, but not chair of this committee, even though I am the marketing and recruitment director.  (I'm already going into the committee feeling like this will be a committee where they decide what I am not doing enough of.)  I prepared huge folders of information about where we once were, where we are now and where we are going.  The folders sat on the desks in front of us during the committee-- while the chairman completely ignored my work and just started talking about how we needed to have MPA representatives in every church.  People that we send information to and then they can spread it to everyone in their church.  Great idea.  Yes.  I felt like my mother in law was wiping my counters down.....it needed to be done.... a great idea... but it clearly said I had not done enough.  (C). 

Lets just say, I have not been good at getting information or letters out the representatives.  I am frankly just swamped with so much- running different directions- that I never seem to get enough done for them.  So now I'm constantly criticized for not getting them the info they need.  Mind you when I do, letters come back, emails are wrong, or they don't have email addresses, etc.  It is just an annoyance.  So when Vonda walked into my office and so kindly and graciously asked if she could help send them info, I started to--- well I started to tell her that was kind but I was fine.  I can't tell you how many years I told my mother in law to just sit and enjoy, when I was drowning.  However, I have a little less (C) hanging around and so I told Vonda what a huge blessing that would be.  This week she sent me her letter and asked what I thought.  It was brilliant.  For a brief moment I started to pile (C) on my self.  I started to think things like...."You obviously could have done that.... what is your problem.... maybe she should have your job..... seriously what is your problem....  But I stopped and smiled.  I stopped and I thanked her and God for the help! 


Today, I spent the day decorating my porch.  I painted old chairs to give them new life.  Bought a few flowers that were 50% off at Wal-Mart and put them in pots that have been spider homes in my garage for several years. It was a great day and I had gotten a lot done.  I was trying to get my porch done for thanksgiving---I'm ahead of schedule.... yea!!!!

Then after a long day of work, I'm feeling accomplished, I run back to Wal-Mart to get the groceries for the weekend when Tammy  called.  I almost didn't answer because I have terrible reception in the store, but I did.  She was calling to ask if Luke, her boy was really spending the night at my house?  I was puzzled.  Wondering what she was talking about.  Then I remembered.  I had agreed to have a group who were in town for a concert spend the night at my house and it was tonight.  I had completely forgotten about it. Instantly the feeling of being ahead of schedule was done.  My mind was racing with what needed to be done before they arrived. I started to be annoyed that I needed Tammy to remind me.  I started to pile on the (C).  But I stopped.  I stopped and I thanked Tammy for the call, I thanked God for the timing.  I was at wal mart and could just get a little more.  What a huge blessing!  What a huge help!

I'm not exactly sure of all the (C) that has made it so hard for me to ask for help or to accept help, but today I was so happy that it is easier now.  I have learned to accept my mother in laws work/help as the gift it is intended to be.  I accepted help from Vonda and my department and our school will benefit.  Today my heart was filled with gratitude instead of (C) when Tammy called. 

Tonight I am wondering how many times we all hesitate to ask for what we need, want, for answers with our Lord and Savior.  How many times am I filled with too much shame to fall on my knees or face first and beg for his help in my life.  How many times?  "Come unto me all ye who labor"

 So to Vonda Seals.... what an angel you are and I so much appreciate what you are doing for me!!!!  To Tammy, thank you so much for letting the Holy Spirit use you today!  What a huge help it was!  To all the ladies at the bible study,  I have learned from you and I am so sorry I was not able to vocalize that at the time.  What a blessing getting together and learning from each other can be!  To my Lord and Savior, I need you!  I need need you!  I need need need you!!!!

A writer

As a little girl I remember taking tape, scotch tape, just an inch or so long and putting it on the tip of my fingernail and then wrapping it around my finger to make a long fake finger nail.  After all ten fingernails were long, I would find pieces of paper and a pen and pretend to write something important. I didn't slow down to formulate sentences, or complete thoughts, I just wrote.  I used fancy scribbles and talked gibberish, while my mind was filled with grandiose thoughts of writing something important and very grown up. I also used those taped finger nails to flip through books I couldn't read and I pretended they were mine, that I had written them.  I played this way more than I played dolls, or dress up, or anything else for that matter.  I went through many a roll of scotch tape making fake finger nails.

Fast forward to my freshman year in college, I had a quaky English professor who was considered by many as, "off the wall",  "past her prime", or "down right crazy".  I was amused by her, and found her Comp 101 class easy.  We just wrote essay after essay.  At the end of the semester she called me into her office.  I was worried.  Over the years I had been called into see teachers and it was never for a good reason so needless to say I was uncomfortable walking into her office.  Her office looked like you would expect from an English professor with her reputation.  There were papers everywhere, her desk was a crazy mess. She asked me to sit down and then said, "I don't think you should be a pre med student."  Instantly I was filled with shame, wondering who had told her about my C- in General Biology--- but what was it to her--- why was it any of  her business.  Then she proceeded to tell me that she thought perhaps I should change my major and become an English major.  She talked about how I was a writer and needed to use it.  Instantly I shut her off, after all such talk just proved what everyone said about her--- she WAS crazy.

A couple months later I take the 16pf personality profile.  Career suggestions for me----1. Writer.... I instantly skip it, laugh at the notion, consider it a fluff stupid idea that is not me at all--- continue looking down the list for something that I thought I might possibly enjoy.  I looked for something that was impressive.  I looked for something that wasn't just a fluff title, but a real job.  What was a real job?  A job in a helping profession.  A job in the medical community, psychology etc.  Maybe a hospital administrator or a Dentist.  Frankly any of those jobs that carry prestige and are considered of value.  Writer?  Are you kidding me?  Writers are people who have their head in the clouds.  Writers are poets, dreamers, not finishers.  They may philosophize or tell stories but they don't do anything of real value.  There are people who write and then people who do.  I wanted to find the profession on the list where people do.

Now it is 20 plus years later and I am still looking at those lists trying to find the perfect fit.   Who and what am I.  I am a wife, I am a mom, I am a recruiter and marketing director, an almost counselor, is that it? Is that enough? This past year,  I blogged everyday, found myself needing it, and these past couple months--- boy have I missed it. So does that mean I'm a writer, or is it just a hobby.  Am I supposed to focus on it or just do it for fun.  If I do it for fun, does that mean I am a writer, or do I have to publish to be a writer?  So many questions.  Oh and there are more..... but I will spare you.

I don't have all the answers, but I have come to this conclusion...... ready?

One thing I know is the 6 letter word starting with w and ending with r, has kept coming up over and over again throughout my life.  I don't know the mechanics of the craft, I have a very small vocabulary, I hate reading and I don't know how to write poems, but.... for some reason the word--- that title keeps coming back up again and again.

I struggle with the notion that there are people everywhere who like to say they are painters, or writers, or pastors, or teachers and we all know they are not!  Am I one of those? 

I started writing this blog last week and then decided it needed editing.  I needed to polish it up, make it perfect.  After all if I am going to claim the title of writer then I better make this post good--- no I better make it perfect!  Seriously?

Here it goes.... I'm jumping off a cliff.... I'm claiming it..... accepting it..... embracing it.....


After a month of living without the joy of writing, after a month of going through my days thinking about what I wanted to write, after recalling stories throughout my life; I have come to the conclusion.... dare I say it... write it.... I am a writer!  I am a writer!  I, Beth Grissom, am a writer.

This does not mean I am a good writer or a great writer.  It doesn't mean I have aspirations of becoming famous or known for writing. It just means, perhaps I have for far to long, ignored that little girl with tape all over her fingers, paper and pens, and an imagination that dreamed of writing.  Perhaps that little girl, was wiser than I have given her credit for.
I don't use paper and pens, or put tape on my fingers, but the desire--- it is still there and I am going to--- for reals--- honor that little girl and call myself--- A writer!