I didn’t know Karla before she visited my house for the launch party for this site, but she’d been reading my blog and knew enough about me to know that she’d be interested in hanging out with me for an evening.  I’m so glad she did, because it didn’t take long to recognize that Karla is indeed a kindred spirit. When we held a sharing circle that night, Karla said something profound about how she’d realized that the most important gift she needed to give right now was a gift to herself.  Since I know that many of us are in similar situations, I asked her to write something about it, and she did…

I spent my growing-up years in a wonderful Mennonite community.  It’s the kind of place where neighbors bake you fresh buns, meals are delivered if you’re in need, farmers help each other get the last of the crops off the field, and participation in the life of the community is expected.  Service of all types was not necessarily seen as a “gift” but as an obligation – your “christian act of worship” if you will.  It’s within this context that my earliest thoughts on “what am I giving away” were formed.

The little girl from the idealistic, hard-working Mennonite community grew up.  I spent time overseas, moved to the big city, went to University and got a degree, was married and had babies.  And all the while I never stopped giving.  “It’s what you do, after all.  You give until it hurts, and then give a little more.”  People’s requests were not considered and weighed – they were agreed to immediately and acted upon with diligence.  Opportunities to give time and energy in church were accepted without contemplation.  “This is what God requires of me” I thought.  Parenting was the most unrelenting of all in its demands of my gifts.   I grew weary, downcast, and frustrated with my reality, but put my game-face on and continued to give my gifts away because it was the right thing to do.

It didn’t take long until weariness grew into depression.  It’s hard to give yourself away when you’re anxious, agitated, exhausted and unstable.   Amidst the “sure, I’ll do that” and the “what time do you need me to be there?” heard from inside my house were the irrational, loud, and angry words directed at my little girls.  Guiltridden sobs were my companion as I laid my head on the pillow at night.  I wasn’t interested in helping people anymore.  My gifts seemed unworthy and defiled.  I knew I needed help.  But good, giving Mennonite girls don’t ask for help, do they?   They are supposed to be the ones giving it away.

Finally, I was able to seek help.  Medication took the edge off my agitation and depression and I was able to regain the tools to parent my daughters without excessive anger, guilt, or shame.   I discovered the power of the word “no” and began to see the value of self-preservation.  I discovered that the only requirements God had of me were to love Him and love others.  I helped when I could and put many of my “giving skills” on the shelf for a much-needed rest.

It’s taken a long time, but I’m finally learning that the best gift I can give away is the freedom to sometimes not give away anything at all.

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