It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis. Today's topic is "trust."
* * *
"Don't lift anything heavier than 5 pounds!" my doctor instructs me, as he writes a prescription for Vicodin and an order for physical therapy.
I leave his office, shaken. This is no muscle spasm that's gonna loosen up with some heat packs and a few massages. I've fractured T7 and herniated the discs above and below.
Healing is gonna be a v-e-r-y long haul.
That night, I need to load my car. I reach for the first box and quickly realize it's far heavier than 5 pounds.
Ask Daniel for help.
I can't do that!
Why not?
I don't want to bother him.
* * *
Not bothering anyone is a skill I've honed over the years. Make no waves. Ask for nothing. Have no needs. Take care of myself.
* * *
But that box is way more than five pounds. I can't take care of it myself. I need help.
I struggle. I stall. I finally sidle up to Daniel's door and quietly ask, "Could you help me move some boxes into the car?
He looks up, grins broadly, and says, "Sure!" He heads to the garage and begins to toss large heavy boxes effortlessly into the car.
He's wearing a black "muscle T", which gives me a fabulous view of his flexing biceps at work. Although I'm standing still, the garage temperature is rising. I'm getting a bit light-headed.
"Is that it?" he asks.
I look around for more boxes for him to lift, a bit disappointed that he's done so quickly.
As he winks, kisses me, and heads back into the house, I am struck by two realizations.
Second, my fears about "bothering" him were clearly fantastical. What would have taken me half an hour without my injury took him five minutes. And he was happy to help. More than happy, actually...more like relieved to finally be asked to do something he's well-qualified to do for me.
Lesson learned: He's got the biceps, so trust him to haul the heavy stuff...while I stand back and watch!