Help, I need somebody

The details of the day are long forgotten. What I can remember was the utter overwhelm. That day, I was drowning at home with five young children under seven.

I made it through the morning, but by early afternoon, in desperation, I picked up the wall phone and dialed an older friend’s number. I don’t know what I was looking for or hoping for. I just needed to hear a voice. I needed a lifeline.

“Ellen. It’s Mary,” I said.

And then I froze. I couldn’t bring myself to ask for help. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my good friend how underwater I felt. I didn’t want her to see my absolute lack and inability to cope with whatever the day had brought me.

I remember regretting calling her as soon as I heard her voice. I continued a calm conversation of calling to say hello or lying about being right with the world. And then I hung up to return to face whatever I could do in the mess of myself.

A few minutes later, I heard the doorbell. I went to open the door and stood with astonishment. Standing at the door was Ellen.

“Ellen why did you come?”

“I heard your voice, Mary, and knew you needed help, so I came.”

She came. She showed up, and that was what I needed. I needed her presence. It was life-saving.

I can still remember that day twenty-plus years later. When I could not bring myself to risk the disappointment of being turned away even in my faked fineness, a friend heard and responded to my need and gave me her presence.

This memory came to mind this past Sunday as I listened to a sermon on the purpose of community. What a rich treasure of friends I had during my years in Virginia. Ellen was a friend who was the hands and feet of Jesus. I think of Ellen when I can’t quite fathom what it looks like to be like Jesus. She lived a faithful and generous life with many women during my years in Norfolk.

Should a call for help reach my ears, I want to be like Ellen. I want to listen and choose to be present.