My Turn
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Potluck
by Rebecca Thatcher Murcia
I very much appreciate Jeanette Harder’s call for support for vulnerable families and children. As a personal recipient of the kind of thoughtful organized support she is talking about, I can tell you that it is important. It does make a difference in helping families when they are under stress. But I also feel as though I need to strike a note of caution.
When my husband was dying of cancer six years ago, wonderful members of my church—Pilgrim’s Mennonite—cooked meals, cleaned our house, and visited constantly to help care for my husband. I remember listening to the radio when this was all going on, and hearing an interview with the leader of a small country that was experiencing some kind of national emergency like a flood or a famine.
The leader was quoted as declining international aid for the stricken people of his nation. I thought I understood exactly how he felt. I was, of course, very grateful to the people who were doing physical therapy with my husband and cleaning our toilets, but it was hard to take. As friendly and gentle as everyone was, and as grateful as I was for their help, sometimes it’s difficult to ask for help and even harder to accept it.
And sometimes help just really misses the mark. A dear neighbor brought over a little container of leftover chili. There was some congealed fat sitting around the edges of the white plastic box. My friendly neighbor smiled as she handed me her offering. “It made me a little ill when I ate it, but I thought you might like it!” she said.
Just recently, I knew the family of one of my son’s friends was in difficult straits, living in one room without a kitchen and without much money or support. I was worried about the friend and his siblings but I proceeded with caution. An offer of help can come across as an accusation.
When my husband’s cancer took a turn for the worse, our church appointed one person to be the organizer of our support. That way we were not always fielding calls from different people offering different ideas. One person figured out what we needed and how best to fill the gaps. She didn’t tell us what we needed, but gently found out what had to be done and took care of it. That way our family felt as though we were getting support, not being besieged or feeling accused of inadequacy.
Six years later, I think my teenage sons would be delighted if somebody showed up at the door with a big covered dish. You see, it’s fall and we’re eating pumpkin this and squash that. The young men think that this is a form of child abuse. But I can’t help it. It’s that time of year and I just love anything made with butternut squash, especially a simple soup with a little cream drizzled onto the top. In Akron, Pennsylvania, I’m Rebecca Thatcher Murcia.
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