#18 Entry   Week 4 “Yes Man”

          One of the things God has shown me is that he loves me through others. I have become a “Yes man” when dinner invitations are offered. When some wonderful lady at church says, “We should have you over some time,” in the Church lobby, where all conversations are held to less than 40 seconds, I pull out my cell phone and ask, “What’s your number? Let’s work on a date.” And sometimes, “Can you tell me your name again?”  

         People are loving me. And apparently, food is the international standard of love. It always has been. And I love it because that means I don’t have to cook. I’ve had dinner in more homes since Deb died than the 32 years we were married. Perhaps double the number.

          Typically, I hesitate to accept someone’s offer of help. There are MAN RULES that are deep in our culture’s consciousness, and since I live in my culture, they are deep inside me. The most famous MAN RULE is “Don’t cry,” which I’ve broken a lot since Deb died. But the second rule is “Don’t accept help.”

          Have you noticed that men are willing to “give” help but rarely “accept” help? We may accept help if we dangle over a cliff, but outside of that, we are pretty hard pressed to say, “Yes, that would be wonderful.” Instead, the international reply is, “No thanks, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

          Dan Griffin, a wonderful speaker and co-creator of the “Helping Men Recover” program, shared these MAN RULES at the training I attended when Deb died. To change these unhealthy patterns, we first need to become aware of them. I’ll never change this if I don’t think it’s a problem. If my furnace is working fine, why would I change it? Typically, I would bristle when someone offered me help. Awareness is the process of understanding why I do what I do.

          I’m influenced more than I’d like to admit by these unspoken MAN RULES that float around behind the empty pizza boxes in the back of my head. But God is with me. He’s trying to so break through my lies.

           I accept God’s love when I accept a person’s offer for dinner. I get food, wonderful conversation, laughter, food, and sometimes cookies to take home.

Doubt

            I doubt myself. I ask myself, “How is a man supposed to grieve?” And I have no answer. I rarely know my own feelings. This process of grief is making me very self-aware of my motives and my fears. I tend to gravitate toward feeling “crushed” throughout the day, sometimes questioning why I’d even get out of bed in the morning. Understand, this is not something I try to do; it just happens naturally inside me.

          Why would I block love from others? A fellow widower (and brother in Christ) told me, “The church is your new family.” And it is. I need these people in my life. I need them much more than they need me. I can’t do this alone.

         So, when a friend (usually female) asks, “Can you come over for dinner,” I don’t hesitate. Mental Health has taught me that covert rules are always stronger than overt rules. The covert message of “I don’t need no help,” pops into my head like a scrolling billboard that slowly travels across my cortex.

         But I need help.

         And I want help.

         And I enjoy help.

            And I like it when someone else cooks.

         Life is all about relationships. Relationships are the most important need I have. Right now, my primary relationship has died. So, since I’m alone, I welcome others into my life.

Few

          I’ve only cooked a few meals since Deb’s death. I usually say yes to these precious opportunities (gifts) that come in the form of dinners. And besides, I can’t cook worth a hill of beans.

         “Yes, when?” is my typical answer.

         Now I’m a “Yes man.” And I love it.

         I’ve learned the power of the magic word “Yes.” Or, I should say, I’m relearning it. I learned it in kindergarten but somehow forgotten it over the last 55 years. I am redefining myself.  Part of my new identity is being involved in as many lives as possible. “The Church is my new family.”

            What a blessing.

          Receiving the gift of dinner is a win, win, win. It’s a win for me because I’m sharing life with friends, and they are sharing their life with me. If I’m lucky, I’ll likely take some food home.

          I’ve even manipulated people to invite me over for dinner. I’m not entirely proud of this, but sometimes it works. I think Deb would have yelled at me for doing this, but as mentioned, she’s dead and has no vote. Now, I’m a social butterfly, going from home to home and gaining weight. I love being loved.

         I don’t want sympathy; I want food. I don’t need the obligatory “Aww, you poor thing,” I like pot roasts and hamburgers in the context of laughter and sometimes a few tears. Enjoying others is the best way for others to want me and for me to enjoy others.

          I’m a blessed guy.