I had a very independent child for whom the words, ‘I do it MYSELF,’ trailed her throughout her twos. Right shoes were put on left feet; cereal bowls overflowed as the milk drowned the cornflakes and swept over the table; clothes were picked with no attention to color, but only to an inner two-year-old sensibility; and carloads of people waited patiently as she struggled to clip her seat belt on her own.
Now that I am facing my eighth decade, I find that my inner two-year-old is alive and well. I lift things that others would happily lift for me; I refuse to be let off at the front door; I climb ladders and place things on tall shelves, and generally make a nuisance of myself to those who would be happy to do those things for me.
I know that they would, but somehow it seems like giving in to let them do it. Like the toddler, I want to show that I can still do those things for myself. I do not need to be catered to or hedged about with care as I am just as able as I always was. Well, perhaps……
Just like my toddler was always herself, even if she could not fasten a seat belt, I must realize I am still me even if I am driven and let off at the front door. I have discovered that some grace is what is needed here. The grace to realize that I am fortunate to be surrounded by those who care for me enough to carry that suitcase or hang that mirror. The fact is, one is never too old to acquire more grace. Now let’s see if I can remember that.