To Love Is Not To Rescue

I had an interesting experience on Sunday that got me thinking.

I had asked a young man in our congregation who has autism to help lead the call to worship at church along with other members of his family.  Seconds before the service was about to begin and just as we were all about to walk into the sanctuary this kid told me he was too nervous to speak into the microphone.  Wanting to avoid any possible bad feelings I said, "that's okay; do whatever you feel comfortable with."  And thinking I was being the epitome of the loving and compassionate minister I added, "your mom and your sister can take over if you're too nervous." 

And then I listened as this young man said the same thing to one of the other ministers: "I'm too nervous to speak into the microphone," and this minister said, "you know, I get nervous speaking into a microphone too.  We all get nervous, but you can do it," he said.

Sometimes in the attempt to be loving I take away a person's chance to do something hard.  I now see that I do this all the time with my kids.  "Oh, you go play and I'll make you a snack" I say to my nine-year-old who is more than capable of making his own snack.  "Oh, don't worry about doing your after dinner chores tonight...you're tired - why don't you just go to bed" I say to the seven-year-old who is actually ready to learn how to push through being tired to give other people a hand now and again.  Somewhere I got it into my head that to really love someone is to help make their life easier (says she whose own mother never sits down when she comes to visit but rushes about putting in a load of laundry or washing up the kitchen floor because it only takes a second and then it's done and you don't want to have to do it yourself, dear).

But I wonder whether rescuing people from the harder parts of life is really the most loving response?  I wonder if the truly loving response to someone who is nervous or anxious or dealing with big responsibilities isn't to bolster their confidence instead, to remind them that they are capable people and that they have it in them to do hard things.  How I wish I reminded this kid of all the other times he'd spoken with such courage at the front of our church.  Instead, I showed my lack of confidence in him and in turn he passed the microphone to his sister when it came time to say his line during the call to worship.

It doesn't feel good not to have to rise to meet the challenges and responsibilities in our lives; it feels good when we surprise ourselves with how well we've dealt with the challenges and responsibilities that come our way.  I need to remember this the next time one of my own kid faces a challenging situation: that the most loving response isn't to deal with the challenge for him or to remove it from her path, but to remind each that they have it within themselves to do the job, to accomplish the task, to rise to the occasion - that they are up to it, and that I'm up to cheering them on.