I have to admit. I have a hard time asking for help. I have
that “false pride” thing about being able to do it myself, that if I have to
ask for help, it means I’m helpless. It makes me think about the two year old
who proclaims, “I can do it myself!” And now that I’m on the other side of the
life spectrum, at age seventy, it means even more to me to be able to still do
things by myself. A recent weekend brought all of this into the light.
I pulled our 19 foot sailboat up to Lake Tahoe to experience
sailing and camping on the largest alpine lake in North America. Yes, I was
alone. I would have preferred that Joyce accompany me, but she wanted to stay
home and help with our daughter, Mira’s, newborn son. And I have a need for
occasional solo adventures.
By the time I launched, I had only a few hours of daylight
left. The wind had died down, so I started my outboard motor and headed toward
a small beach I found on the map. I didn’t get very far. The motor sputtered
and died. I couldn’t get it started again. When I pulled on the starter cord,
the little flashing red light proclaimed “low oil.” I forgot to check the oil
level before launching. Did I have extra engine oil stored in the boat? Of
course not!
A very faint breeze allowed me to inch into a private boat
harbor and tie up to the only vacant mooring buoy as darkness was descending (a
miracle in itself). I slept that night in the boat.
In the morning, I saw a boat leaving the harbor. Perhaps
they might have some engine oil. I only needed a small amount, maybe half a
cup, to allow me to start the motor. But that would require asking for help,
flagging them down by waving my hands, inconveniencing them, showing my
helplessness.
I swallowed my pride, flagged them down, and asked the young
man for oil. He didn’t have any, but gave me a ride to the dock, where I could
walk a half hour to a small convenience store. On the way to the store, I practiced
asking for help/oil a few more times without success. I did notice, however,
that most people were very nice, wanting to help even though they couldn’t.
They felt needed, and that brought out their best.
I bought a quart of engine oil at the store, walked back to
the dock, got another ride out to my boat (more asking for help), and added the
oil to my motor. I got it started, but just barely, and headed across the vast
lake to an area of small, more hidden, pocket beaches. As long as I squeezed the
primer bulb hard and continuously, I could keep the motor running. Obviously,
the low oil was not the problem. There was something else wrong with the motor.
I kept waiting for the wind to pick up, so I wouldn’t be so
dependent on the motor but, alas, it was not to be. No wind the entire day! And
hard to believe on such a huge lake!
My hands were cramped and exhausted from all the squeezing
when I saw a cute little beach. About a hundred feet offshore, the motor
finally died. I pulled and pulled on the starter cord with no success. Finally
I jumped into the lake, holding a length of rope attached to the bow, and
started pulling the boat to shore. Amazingly, a man on the beach called out,
“Do you need any help?” At that particular moment, however, I was actually
doing just fine, and enjoying being in the cool lake water. Another part of me
silently added, “Barry, you just missed another opportunity to ask for help,
whether you could do it yourself or not!”
The next morning dawned practically windless again and I
decided to end my trip and get back to the boat ramp as soon as possible. I
pushed off from shore and, while again inching at a snail’s pace from the
beach, tried to start the engine. Nothing! I kept at it. For three hours I
pulled on that starter cord, trying every trick I could. I’m amazed the cord
didn’t break, leaving me in much worse condition. And all the while, I hoped
the wind would finally come up. But that was not to be.
I practiced asking for a tow from other boats that passed,
but no one offered that level of help. I called a boat towing company who was
happy to help, for $375! I told him I’d call him back.
Finally it dawned on me. Not in all this time had I even had
the thought to ask for divine help. I pray for divine help every day. I pray
that Joyce and I can continue to be instruments of peace and love with our
books and events. I pray that I can learn to trust God in all things, big and
small. I pray for the well-being of our children and now grandchildren. But to
pray for an outboard motor? Didn’t even cross my mind.
But why not? Nothing is too small or insignificant for the
angels, those heavenly helpers. I let go of the starter cord, placed my hands
on the motor, and asked the angels for their all-powerful help. I asked
sincerely, then gave thanks for their help. I pulled the cord once more.
The motor instantly roared to life. I had to laugh at the
odds of that happening. I yanked on that starter cord maybe a thousand times
with no success, said one prayer to the angels, and voila! What a lesson! I
could almost imagine a group of angels sitting around just waiting for me to
ask them for help, perhaps having this conversation,
“Any asking yet?”
“No, he’s still pulling on that cord, trying to do it
himself.”
“How many hours has it been now, in Earth time?”
“Hey, wait. He’s asking us for help. Finally! Okay, who
wants to bless that motor?”
I sincerely hope I can once and for all learn the joy of
asking for help, from people and from angels, from those I can see and from
those I can’t see. I hope I can remember how much joy it gives others to help
me. And I hope I can remember that problem size doesn’t matter, that I can feel
my dependence on God and the angels in all situations.
Here are a few opportunities to
bring more love and growth into your life, at the following longer events led
by Barry and Joyce Vissell:
Oct 11-17 — Assisi Retreat, Italy
Feb 5-12, 2017 — Hawaii Couples Retreat
Jul 16-21 — Shared Heart Summer Retreat at Breitenbush Hot Springs, OR
Joyce & Barry Vissell, a nurse/therapist and psychiatrist
couple since 1964, are
counselors near Santa Cruz, CA, who are widely regarded as among the world's
top experts on conscious relationship and personal growth. They are the authors of The
Shared Heart, Models of Love, Risk to Be Healed, The Heart’s
Wisdom, Meant to Be, and A Mother’s Final Gift.
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