It was around the time of Lauren’s Heaven date when she offered to help me in the flower garden. At first my heart jumped at the chance. I didn’t know my flowers as well as she did and didn’t know proper placement and what looked good where. But then my pride caught up with me. What would she, an avid gardener, think of my flower garden? 

Last year, due to the busyness of getting girls ready for a year of teaching and weddings, I had little time to work out there. I hadn’t planted a single flower, only halfway tried to stay on top of the weeds. Now, having not been out there at all yet, it was in a state of disarray. As much as I could use the help, the pride in my heart half hoped she wouldn’t come, but come she did.

I felt the need to apologize when she arrived. Weeds were everywhere and plants were in need of pruning. The small fish pond had gotten a leak or something and was now all dried up and disastrous. But she quickly reassured me that she didn’t care. She had just told her daughter that morning that she “needed” to get outside and mess with this kind of thing. Well, great, because I could sure use the help!

Days later, my friend and I went to Wichita for a ladies day out. I had been doing much sewing and been quite busy otherwise, and as so often happens, my house was a mess. Bits of thread were scattered to and fro from landing on my dress and falling off as I walked through the house. Half opened packages were in one corner of a room and being in the middle of laundry, piles of dirty clothes, etc, littered my laundry room and hallway.

When she pulled in, I told her I needed to get my cup of tea and she could either wait in the Yukon or come in. She came in and amidst my hurry, I wondered for a moment what she would think of my house. I clean houses for people and some have the impression that my house is always clean and, as much as I’d like it to be that way, it’s exaggerated thinking. We do live here after all.

I was in a hurry so didn’t think much more of it until I came home and saw the mess for what it really was. Had I actually let her into my house that morning? What had come over me that I had even offered it? Why had I let her see the mess that was our life on a daily basis and not after a Friday cleaning session? I inwardly cringed.

And it makes me wonder. How many people do we turn away from our homes because our homes are a mess? How many people do we turn away from our lives because our lives are a mess? How many people do we turn away from our hearts because our hearts are a mess? 

The insides of my heart want to squeeze at the thought. For just today, my heart is in such a mess, I feel it shutting down, zoning out, blocking any light that wants to come. I don’t want to allow anyone entrance. The shades have again dropped down over my eyes and I avert my gaze so no one can see. I don’t want anyone to see what they may find there. 

And I recall a day not so long ago when I offered to help someone clean, offered to help someone sew, offered to let someone talk. I genuinely wanted to help. I couldn’t have cared less what their house looked like to begin with, what their state of mind was, or how guarded their gaze was. I just wanted to help.

The Bible speaks about the “gift of helps” and there are many who have it. Why then, oh why, do we turn it away? What is it that makes us want to do it ourselves when our brother or our sister are right there longing to help us? When God has given them that desire?

Can we for a moment see past the pride that wants to hinder and let someone in? Let them see our dirty floors, our chaotic minds, or our hurting hearts? Can we let them sweep our floors, sew a seam, or pull up a chair and let us talk? Are we squelching someone’s God given talent by thinking we are too much of a mess and we don’t want them to see? Can we dare to trust them?

Oh that I can see beyond the mess of my house, my life, and my heart, and experience instead the blessings of letting others help me. Oh that I can see it is truly a gift—a gift from God—bestowed on me in the form of another human being.