I am proud of the independence I've gained by living and moving alone. It is good and right of me to celebrate my independence. But I have not actually moved alone. Behind every step in the moving process was someone assisting me: financially, emotionally, physically...
I called my mom, sister, and best friend everyday. Families in the church helped run my yard sale. My new employer found me temporary housing. A coworker transported my bed to my apartment. My family gave me money to help with the move.
I feel grateful but, at times, guilty. Whether it comes from the criticism I see given to those who struggle to take care of themselves or from my own desire to prove myself worthy and capable-- or both-- I experience guilt.
A few days ago I tried to carry a TV stand into my house. I thought about how much help I had in every step of the moving process. I thought what if I didn't have their help? What if one day I don't have anyone's help? and then I tried to pick it up by myself.
It fell onto my foot.
A man nearby was walking his dog with his kid. He saw me and offered to help. I was in too much pain to be stubborn. With his help, the TV stand is now in my apartment.
So I owe the success of my move to my family, friends, community, new-co workers, and now to a stranger.
No matter how stable I become financially, emotionally, or physically-- I'll probably encounter a "TV stand" that I cannot lift on my own. That's true about all of us- family or not.
This season of change is a reminder of what has always been true. We need each other.
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