Asking for Help
It can be a really hard thing to admit when you need help. For some, it's the hardest thing.
When my siblings and I were growing up, our home was a safe haven. My parents allowed our friends to eat or sleep over when they had nowhere else to go. They were always welcome with us. Family dinners often meant feeding 12 people, not feeding just the 5 of us. Need a place to crash? Stay with us. Need a place to do homework? Come see us. Need school supplies? Come see us. Need a hot meal? Come see us. Just need something, but not sure how to ask for it? Come over. We will figure it out. That was our house growing up. Mom and Dad always joked that we were the Home of Wayward Strays. And they loved every moment of it.
We were raised to open doors for strangers, say please and thank you and give to others. Find someone in need? Give to them first. That's what we saw done in our own home every day of our lives. I can't tell you how many times my parents put other people before themselves. To this day, if there's a round up option on groceries to give to someone in need, there's a good chance I'm going to donate. I've witnessed too many people I love suffer at various times not to do so.
So this week, when conversations came up about expenses my family and I shuddered. And we discussed. And we had to make a decision. Do we swallow pride? Do we have courage? Do we ask for help? And I thought back to all of those charity rides. Those donation boxes I've put money into. All of those meals we've shared with over the years. All of the clothing and books and everything I've happily given to anyone who's asked or needed. And I said, "if there was ever a time we've honestly needed help it was now. If there was ever a time to ask for it, it's now." And we decided we needed to have courage. We needed to let go of pride. And we needed to ask for help.
And I wrote up our story. And I created a GoFundMe for Dad. He asked me to read what I'd typed up aloud to him. And I did. And I had to stop as I cried. Because even though I know the words are true, and I'm the one who typed up every one of those words, speaking them is a different matter than typing them. And I cried as I read them to him. Because part of me still cannot believe this is our story. This is our reality. This is our life. I'm living this every day, and part of me still hopes this is all one giant nightmare.
One day it may feel more real, but right now a part of me is still in Ohio, sitting around the table with all of the Wayward Strays laughing and carrying on; while my parents are bickering in the kitchen with the radio up too loud, making another giant meal for us all.
GoFundMe
When my siblings and I were growing up, our home was a safe haven. My parents allowed our friends to eat or sleep over when they had nowhere else to go. They were always welcome with us. Family dinners often meant feeding 12 people, not feeding just the 5 of us. Need a place to crash? Stay with us. Need a place to do homework? Come see us. Need school supplies? Come see us. Need a hot meal? Come see us. Just need something, but not sure how to ask for it? Come over. We will figure it out. That was our house growing up. Mom and Dad always joked that we were the Home of Wayward Strays. And they loved every moment of it.
We were raised to open doors for strangers, say please and thank you and give to others. Find someone in need? Give to them first. That's what we saw done in our own home every day of our lives. I can't tell you how many times my parents put other people before themselves. To this day, if there's a round up option on groceries to give to someone in need, there's a good chance I'm going to donate. I've witnessed too many people I love suffer at various times not to do so.
So this week, when conversations came up about expenses my family and I shuddered. And we discussed. And we had to make a decision. Do we swallow pride? Do we have courage? Do we ask for help? And I thought back to all of those charity rides. Those donation boxes I've put money into. All of those meals we've shared with over the years. All of the clothing and books and everything I've happily given to anyone who's asked or needed. And I said, "if there was ever a time we've honestly needed help it was now. If there was ever a time to ask for it, it's now." And we decided we needed to have courage. We needed to let go of pride. And we needed to ask for help.
And I wrote up our story. And I created a GoFundMe for Dad. He asked me to read what I'd typed up aloud to him. And I did. And I had to stop as I cried. Because even though I know the words are true, and I'm the one who typed up every one of those words, speaking them is a different matter than typing them. And I cried as I read them to him. Because part of me still cannot believe this is our story. This is our reality. This is our life. I'm living this every day, and part of me still hopes this is all one giant nightmare.
One day it may feel more real, but right now a part of me is still in Ohio, sitting around the table with all of the Wayward Strays laughing and carrying on; while my parents are bickering in the kitchen with the radio up too loud, making another giant meal for us all.
GoFundMe
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