Tag You Can’t Help How You Feel

Don’t Be a Parrot

Intentergy 2 Comments

Last summer as my friend Jackie was recovering from a very serious health scare, I pleaded with her to tell me how I could help. She said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not a parrot and I can’t just say what you want to hear.” I told her I didn’t want her to be a parrot, I wanted her to be honest with me about what we needed to do to get her back on track. I asked her to give me two or three things I could do to assist in her recovery. And that’s where we began.

I think we’ve all been in situations where we didn’t know where to start or what to say. Sometimes finding a starting point seems harder than reaching the finish line. All too often, we play the role of the parrot telling others what we believe they want to hear because it’s easier than asking for what we really need.

When I had wrist and elbow surgery last December, I had friends and family ask how they could help. I didn’t want to be a burden, especially during such a busy holiday season, so I just told them to pray for me. (Prayer is always a GREAT idea.) However, once my arm was in that cast and I was feeling the pain of recovery, it was a whole lot easier to ask for what I needed. We shouldn’t have to feel pain in asking for help.

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I Am Not Okay – Stuck on Repeat

Intentergy 4 Comments

Listening to the radio is often frustrating because I feel like the same songs are played over and over. Like most people, my drive times are pretty consistent. Two days a week I drive my son to his 6:00 p.m. practice. When we get in the car, we jokingly place bets on what songs we will hear first because they are always the same.

In the past few weeks, there has been one song in particular that I haven’t minded being on repeat. It is “I Am Not Okay” by Jelly Roll.
(If you haven’t heard it, please give it a listen, but be sure to listen all the way through.)

While singing along with the gravel, grit, and pain in Jelly Roll’s voice, I started to feel something loosening in my heart last week. I looked at my 11-year-old and sang, “I am not okay. I’m barely getting by. I’m losing track of days and losing sleep at night… I know I can’t be the only one who’s holding on for dear life.” My sweet boy laughed at me and said, “Mom, you are okay.” As I sang the rest of the lyrics to him via my in-car concert, I felt like I couldn’t stop until the last verse. When I got to the last verse, I couldn’t go on. My heart hurt too much to sing.

As we pulled into practice, I told my son to go on in. I would be in shortly.

He went in. I broke down.

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