{"id":6372,"date":"2015-04-20T06:07:31","date_gmt":"2015-04-20T12:07:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/?p=6372"},"modified":"2016-05-26T11:37:37","modified_gmt":"2016-05-26T17:37:37","slug":"the-one-question-that-can-also-be-an-answer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/2015\/04\/20\/the-one-question-that-can-also-be-an-answer\/","title":{"rendered":"The One Question That Can Also Be an Answer"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"how<\/a>The summer of 2014 was a difficult period for me. We\u2019d just moved to a new state<\/a> and left behind friends who were like family. The deadline to submit the first draft of my second book<\/a> was looming, and I found myself unable to write. During this time of uncertainty and upheaval, my sister Rebecca came to visit. I wanted to be the fun, adventurous host and show her our new city. I planned things for us to do, but when it came down to it, I simply could not hide my despair. One morning, when misplaced fishing nets from the Dollar Store nearly caused a breakdown, Rebecca gently touched my arm. \u201cHow can I help?\u201d<\/p>\n

My sister was not talking about the fishing nets.<\/p>\n

I felt my eyes instantly well with tears, and then I let out a mammoth-sized exhale. Sweet, sweet<\/em> relief<\/em>. My sister saw my pain \u2026 she saw I was going through something \u2026 she wanted to ease my burden. All this\u2014and I never had to say a word. She just knew.<\/p>\n

Furthermore, there was something about that question that kept defensiveness, excuses, and the need to explain out of the conversation. How can I help?<\/em> It was much less intrusive than, \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d It was much more supportive than, \u201cWhat\u2019s your problem?\u201d With one single question, my sister acknowledged my struggle and offered to lighten my load. All this\u2014and I never had to say a word. It was the kind of help<\/em> I most needed in that moment.<\/p>\n

Rebecca proceeded to throw out specific ways she could help. I did not take her up on the kind offers at that moment, but knowing I had options made me feel more hopeful about my current situation.<\/p>\n

From that experience, my list of Soul-Building Words<\/em><\/a>\u2014words that lift \u2026 help \u2026 and heal\u2014grew by one. Little did I know how that question\u2014how can I help<\/em>?\u2014would become an answer for my child this spring.<\/p>\n

\"exercise<\/a>My daughters and I were doing spring cleaning of our closets and trying on clothes. My younger daughter was excited to see her three favorite dresses from last spring. But with each ill-fitting experience, she became solemn. I noticed a distinct change in her expression\u2014like the sun suddenly went behind the clouds.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to be healthier, Mama,\u201d she said quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d I asked wanting to make sure I understood what this precious eight-year-old child was saying.<\/p>\n

After a long pause contemplating how to put her feelings into words she simply said, \u201cI just want to be healthier.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something told me this was not the time to ask for details.
\nSomething told me this was not the time to push for specifics.
\nSomething told me this was not the time for assumptions or fill-in-the-blanks.
\nIt was time to use that barrier-breaking question that had once brought me great relief in my time of need.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can I help?\u201d I asked genuinely.<\/p>\n

At first my child looked a bit surprised. But then her face relaxed into a smile and her chest fell with a visible exhale. Sweet, sweet relief. How can I help<\/em>? It was not a question after all. It was an answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cOn days I don\u2019t have swim team practice will you exercise with me?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI would love to!\u201d I said enthusiastically. \u201cBiking, walking, calisthenics\u2014I am up for anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, Mama!\u201d she said excitedly. \u201cI will make us a routine from what I\u2019ve learned from my coach!\u201d<\/p>\n

For the past four weeks, my daughter and head out to the driveway nearly every evening. We started out with just a bouncy rubber ball, but our equipment supply has expanded to a mat, a kettlebell, and a medicine ball. Sometimes we\u2019re outside for twenty minutes. Other days, an entire hour. Sometimes my child is my coach, pushing and encouraging me. Sometimes she is my workout partner bringing up her knees in rapid succession beside me. Sometimes we sweat. Sometimes we just \u201cwork on flexibility\u201d, meaning we stretch our bodies in the fading sun, talking about important things and sipping our water.<\/p>\n

\"stretching\"<\/a>One night, we ended up laying on our mats listening to music and looking up at the sky. I was lost in my own thoughts.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re the best mom,\u201d my daughter said breaking the silence.<\/p>\n

Honestly, I was surprised by her words. For the past couple months, I\u2019d been battling a relentless infection, doing final edits my forthcoming book<\/a>, and worrying about my mom<\/a>. I\u2019d been feeling exhausted and distant. My child\u2019s unsolicited compliment felt like soothing balm to my weary soul.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? What is it about me that makes me best?\u201d I wondered aloud.<\/p>\n

She listed off the main things most parents do for their children, like provide food, protection, and care, but then she said something that struck me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I need help, you know how to help me. I don\u2019t know how you know, but you do. You can just tell.\u201d<\/p>\n

All at once, everything I suspected about helping someone through the struggles of life was confirmed:<\/p>\n