A call for help

When Cathy said Erik was caught up in my computer-building drama, I didn’t really believe her. She was just saying that he’d be interested in it because he’s a computer guy–not because he actually is interested in it.

I learned that I was wrong when week after week, Erik asked me how the process was coming along.

When I started having difficulties and issued a general request via Facebook, he was pleased to lend me a DVD player.

When I described how I was moving my files onto my new computer via flash drives because I couldn’t hook both hard drives up and have them read correctly, he chastised me for not calling him for an adapter.

Then the computer troubles I thought I’d resolved began again. The OS that I thought I’d installed properly started giving me problems.

I had to start over–and I wasn’t sure how exactly to start.

“Call Erik,” Ruth urged me. “You heard what he said Friday night–‘If I have diet questions, I call you… If you have computer questions, you call me.'”

I didn’t want to do it.

My pride says I can do everything on my own. My pride resists asking for help. My pride wants to be in control.

“Either you call him, or I’ll call him for you,” Ruth threatened.

My throat started to close up and my eyes started watering. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to ask for help. Didn’t want to admit (until I’d figured out how to solve it on my own) that I was having trouble.

But I knew it wasn’t Ruth’s call to make.

It was mine.

I just had to be willing to humble myself enough to call for help.

I called. We talked. Erik gave some suggestions.

It wasn’t that bad.

It didn’t kill me–only my pride.

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