I have plenty of time to think these days. We are living with Jared's parents until our house is ready, a situation which-- while delightful in many ways, and nothing like those dreaded parents-in-law stories you may have heard-- leaves me at a loss for occupation. I can't do anything at our house right now, because all of the remodeling either involves heavy lifting or lots of chemicals. I have two small rooms to keep in order, which is certainly not demanding, and as for work, it comes in spurts: one week I've got ten short stories and five persuasive essays to edit, and the next week, practically nothing. I don't have any of my craft and art supplies with me (dumb. I shouldn't have put them in the storage unit) and even I can only read so much before my head splits.
So. Thinking. I do that.
(Plus plenty of sleeping. If you could stock up on sleep, oh man, I would have one fat account. Too bad I won't be able to draw upon it after the baby is born!)
I wonder, for example, why it is so hard to let other people bless us. At least it can be hard for me.
One stock answer is pride: we believe that we should be able to do everything ourselves, so we don't want to admit our weakness and ask for help. I think that is a legitimate possibility. Pride poisons a lot of things. For me, though, I see another reason, and that's cynicism.
I mentioned this in a post over the summer. I tend to assume that people don't care about me and that if they offer to serve me in any way, they're doing it out of a sense of obligation rather than sincere love. Why is that? I'm really not sure. After all, for the most part, I enjoy blessing others. If I bring them a present or go out of my way to help them, I'm not acting out of guilt or legalism-- I am happy to do it!
Yet . . . I insist on believing that others don't feel the same way about me. When I am offered an unexpected gift, I get suspicious, and I am more likely to say "oh no, don't bother" than to graciously accept it.
That's silly. I want to have more faith in people, and less skepticism. I don't think it honors my friends to be insistently independent, to push away their help.
What other obstacles might stand in the way of accepting blessing?