I guess it’s one of life’s little eccentricities that people experience the most difficult challenges when they’re already down, already hurting, their strength sapped by demands that seem to go on and on. Not that there’s a good time for being tested mind you, but why do the toughest lessons hit when you’re already down?
Being helpless is my lesson of late. I can do nothing to ease the circumstances of some of the people I hold most dear. I don’t have the power to move time and space and blood test results. I haven’t the resources to ease the way. I have no choice but to stand by, ever supportive, of beloved children with full awareness of life’s dangers and disappointments. You can do nothing, but you want so, so badly to do something. Anything.
I’m helpless and so hating it.
It goes against my grain to do nothing. It seems wrong somehow, shiftless and lazy, as if you’re not putting every ounce of effort into things you value most. When I’m able do something, to ease a worry or set things on the right path, it feels good, right, as if this single action can make a difference.
To me, helplessness is like mental quicksand, the more you worry and wrestle with things you can do nothing about, the faster you’ll sink. Nothing good comes from the place you go. Turning the energy away from that dark, destructive place is what’s called for here, but that’s no easy task, believe me.
The one thing I can do, the only thing it seems I can do these days, is offer the most heartfelt prayers to God (in whatever form you believe Him to be) to be with them, take their cares into His hands and ease their burdens in any way and every way possible. I’m happy to offer myself as instrument — I’ve got lots of energy, an inquiring mind and a passionate heart.
And as you can see I hate doing nothing…