Needing help does not mean weakness

I recently had one of those ordinary moments with my three-year-old grandson that turned into an unexpected life lesson. We had finished our painting project and he was eager to wash our paintbrushes.

He climbed up on his little footstool at the kitchen sink and I watched him work at turning on the faucet. He was determined to figure it out on his own.

Then he turned and looked at me. “Oma?” There is something about being called “Oma” that makes my heart melt just a little. He gently asked for help. And that was it. No frustration. No embarrassment. No dramatic announcement that he couldn’t turn the water on. No pretending that he had everything under control.

He simply recognized he needed some help, and he knew how to ask.

I thought about how differently we adults often approach the same thing. Somewhere between being three years old and becoming grown-ups, we develop the strange idea that needing help is a weakness.

We are supposed to be independent.

We are supposed to know what we’re doing.

We are supposed to be able to handle the bills, the job, the kids, the relationships, the unexpected diagnosis, the difficult decisions and the thousand little things that appear before breakfast.

And when we’re overwhelmed? We often say, “I’m fine.” Even when we’re absolutely not fine.

We would rather struggle quietly than admit we need help. Sometime we even convince ourselves that asking for help means we’ve failed. But my three-year-old grandson reminded me that perhaps we’ve got it backward. Asking for help isn’t weakness. Sometimes it is wisdom.

My grandson wasn’t giving up when he asked me for help. He wasn’t admitting defeat. He was simply recognizing his limitations and trusting someone who could help him.

That sounds a lot like faith to me.

The Bible is filled with people who needed help. In fact we are expected to bear one another’s burdens. Why would that command be there if we were all expected to carry everything by ourselves? We need people. Other people need us. That’s part of how God designed us.

And perhaps that’s why there is something so beautiful about a three-year-old simply saying, “Oma, can you help me?” He trusted me enough to ask.

He wasn’t worried about what I might think of him. He didn’t think I would love him less because he couldn’t do something by himself.

We sometimes imagine that God and everyone else will be disappointed when we can’t handle everything ourselves. We think we should have more faith, more strength, more patience, and more wisdom. But perhaps God isn’t disappointed at all. What if God is simply waiting for us to turn around and say, “God, I need some help here.”

There is humility in asking. There is courage in asking. And there is also relationship. When we ask for help, we acknowledge we don’t have to walk through life alone.

A three-year-old reminded me that when life gets complicated, instead of pretending I’ve got everything under control, I should be willing to say, “I need some help.” And maybe before I try to fix everything myself I should simply look toward God and say, “Help.”

My grandson didn’t go on and on about why he needed help. He didn’t even know he was teaching me anything. He just looked at his Oma, admitted he needed help, and trusted I would be there.

Sometimes the best teachers are three years old. And sometimes the best prayer is the simplest one: “God, I need help.” There is no shame in that. After all, even Oma needs help sometimes.