Being of an Anglican upbringing both home and school the old hymn favourite resounds in my heart rock of ages cleft for me.
It happens to be among the best assurances I lean on times dark. I know I am not alone and that since I am a child of my people I have to rely on and be relyed on.
I love being resouceful and helping where and whenever I can.
There is no greater feeling, I have come to understand, than to be helpful and see a tiny effort transform into a major miracle.
Which is why it has been bugging me why I find it close to impossible to ask when its my turn. I feel so trapped by the anxiety I get. Could it be a defence mechanism
? against what I wonder !
Maybe I blame my mother because she is the most selfless person I know and while growing up, I remember swearing never to be like her seeing her dedication for a weakness.
When did the tables turn and put me on this end? I need help. Even if I don’t get to say everytime I do. Or is it about pride?
what is pride anyways!