shame vs humility

Every day is approached with a new sense of understanding.

I am not the type of person to sit and lick my wounds. I feel I am a doer. I always think about the old story of the crab in the bucket. When one crab is trying to climb out the rest of the crabs drag it back down. Well, that happens. Sometimes the other crabs can be people and sometimes it can be government processes, limited resource battles, and on and on. We all want to make it out of here to somewhere – better.

I drove around today. We make jokes about driving on fumes and cross our fingers we make it home. Had to make it to a few places to ensure the weekend wouldn’t be too difficult. I hate the feeling of asking for help or maybe it is the fact that I need help that comes with the shame. I don’t know. I was taught not to be ashamed of asking for help and the rough edges of life teach humility – keeps us grounded. We went to the Salvation Army for a bit of food to hold us over for a week. My son was with me. He put his down when he realized where we were. The he lifted it and asked if they needed volunteers. That's what keeps me believing. I always wanted to be the one filling the little white plastic bags (not good for the environment forgot my cloth bags) and handing them to a mother-just to be the helper for once. It just doesn’t make any sense why a family, including ours, should ever experience hunger for food or the shame that comes with asking for food. I didn’t throw my money away, what little I do have. I paid the bills and then nothing. Prioritizing basic needs utility disconnection or food or shelter. Atleast if we have a roof over our head and lights we ‘feel’ like things could be worse. I look around my home and we have done good with so little. I feel good about that. I remember where I have come from – it seems so far away. I am waiting for this money that would make our family so happy. One click of the mouse in a government office could do this but instead it just lingers with no answers. This money is not a handout it is part of the a Canadian legacy that is supposed to compensate for all the hardship in some way. The Indian residential school legacy of attempting to assimilate through killing the Indian in the child. Now what the hell were they thinking? We held on even tighter and tears flowed to nourish the spirit of the generations today. That is what my great grandmother, grandmother, and mother are all about. That is what I am about. Humility is understanding and remembering where my strength comes from and the shame is what I must find my way passed. There is too much to be done. Life has taught me so much in forty years now it is time to gather my strength.

My son went to apply for another summer position for students. I was so proud of him and his abilities. He has sure taken in a lot at school. When I watch them I know it was all worth the time, love, and energy it took to stay home. I watched as other mothers struggled and then seen their children turn to the streets for that extra something we all look for. I decided I would be right there to catch them if I could when that moment came for my children. I feel I caught most of it. No matter how hard it gets we still know there is better and more to reach for. The crabs can keep grabbing but we will always break loose as we make our way out of the bucket.


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