There are some weeks when life seems determined to test your patience.

This was one of those weeks for me.

It started with my phone that stopped charging. For two days, I was essentially without a phone.

For someone accustomed to having her phone nearby – to communicate, coordinate, work, check in, respond, and simply have access to the world – it was an inconvenience.

But then things got a little more interesting.

On Thursday morning, as I was leaving home for work, my car suddenly shut down.

Just like that.

And there I was – with no working phone and no working vehicle.

I couldn’t call roadside assistance. I couldn’t easily arrange transportation. I couldn’t do what we normally do when something unexpected happens: reach for our phone and start making calls.

So I left the car where it was, walked to my mother’s house, dropped off my son, and found my way to work.

When people heard what had happened, some couldn’t understand why I had still come to work.

“Your car broke down and you still came to work?”

Someone even suggested that perhaps the car breaking down was a sign that I should have stayed home.

But they didn’t know the whole story.

They didn’t know that I didn’t have a phone to make the necessary arrangements. They didn’t know that I needed to get to work so that I could eventually collect my repaired phone and start figuring things out.

And it reminded me how easily we can misunderstand someone when we don’t know the full story.

We see a decision.

We hear a response.

We witness a reaction.

And we form an opinion.

But we rarely know everything that led to that moment.

“Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand.”

For the past eight weeks, I’ve been journeying through the Prayer of St. Francis, one line at a time.

This week’s line from the Prayer of St. Francis felt especially relevant.

Because understanding requires something from us.

It asks us to slow down.

To listen.

To ask questions.

To resist the temptation to fill in the gaps with our own assumptions.

Before I judge someone’s choice, let me understand.
Before I assume, let me ask.
Before I react, let me listen.

But there was another lesson hidden inside this rather inconvenient week.

Because while I was dealing with one thing after another, I began to notice something else.

People were there.

People who had seen my car on the road called to check on me.

People stopped to offer assistance.

Coworkers offered to drop me places.

People offered to help me collect my phone.

And when the car eventually had to be towed to the dealership, I realized just how much coordination it takes when you don’t have your own vehicle.

Yet somehow, I was never completely without help.

And that made me pause, because perhaps the real story of this week wasn’t:

“My phone broke and then my car broke.”

Perhaps it was:

“Everything I depended on failed – and I discovered how many people I could depend on.”

There is something humbling about needing other people.

We like independence.

We like being capable.

We like knowing that we can handle things ourselves.

And I certainly don’t mind being the person who figures things out.

But sometimes life reminds us that we were never meant to do everything alone.

Sometimes the thing that inconveniences us becomes the very thing that reveals our community.

The broken phone meant I couldn’t make the calls.

The broken car meant I couldn’t get where I needed to go.

But the inability to do those things myself created opportunities for other people to step in.

And I was reminded that receiving help is also a form of self-care.

We often talk about self-care as something we do for ourselves.

Rest.

Boundaries.

Exercise.

Quiet time.

Saying no.

But sometimes self-care looks like letting someone help you.

Sometimes it looks like admitting, “I can’t do this part on my own.”

Sometimes it looks like receiving.

And sometimes, self-care is simply knowing that you don’t have to explain every detail of your life before someone can show you kindness.

This week reminded me that understanding is a gift we can give each other.

We don’t always need to have the full picture to be compassionate.

We don’t need to agree with someone’s decision to listen.

We don’t need to know someone’s entire story to offer grace.

Because we rarely know the whole story.

There may be circumstances behind someone’s behaviour that we cannot see.

There may be a burden behind a decision we don’t understand.

There may be a battle behind the response that seems unreasonable.

So before we decide what someone should have done, perhaps we can pause and ask: What might I not know?

And then listen.

Because understanding begins when we make room for a story other than the one we’ve created in our own minds.

And perhaps that is what St. Francis was inviting us to pray.

Not “Help me make sure everyone understands me.”

But: “Help me become someone who seeks to understand.”

Scripture Reminds Us

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” – James 1:19

Reflection

Where might you be making assumptions about someone because you don’t know their full story?

How willing are you to listen before forming an opinion?

Who has God placed in your life that you can depend on?

And perhaps most importantly:

How comfortable are you with being the one who needs help?

Because sometimes, when everything we thought we could depend on stops working, we discover that God has placed people around us who can help carry us through.

Today, my prayer is simple:

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand.

Help me to listen before I judge, to ask before I assume and to pause before I react.

Give me the wisdom to remember that I rarely know the whole story.

And when I am the one who needs help, give me the humility to receive it.

May I be both a giver and a receiver of love, compassion and grace.

And may I always remember:

We were not created to carry everything alone.

Amen.

Until next Saturday!

Love, Talisha ❤️