Some tasks—preparing the bulletin or worship aid, for instance—require specific skills: knowledge of a particular computer program, experience with layout. and so forth. This is why it’s crucial to train other folks to take over in an emergency. Liturgy goes on, whether or not we can be there. Music goes on even if the accompanist is in the hospital and no sub is available. (Dig out familiar a cappella music for the assembly.) But it will all get done. That it’s not the way we’d do it, not the way we’d planned, is a lesson in humility.

I don’t have much in the way of patience, but I need it this month while I’m dealing with the preparation for and aftermath of cataract surgeries. Doctors and friends are all telling me everything’s going to be fine: “Just be patient.”

Yeah, right.

Restrictions on what I can and can’t do make me antsy, though I did get the doc to okay my picking up my guitar. “But nothing heavier.” I can easily do without swimming or hot tub soaks, and I hate yard work anyhow. Waiting for everything to get back into balance makes me crazy, but there’s nothing I can do to speed up the process—while life itself is speeding along without me.

There’s the rub: there are obligations that have to be met, a community that needs me, and work that really has to be done. But there are times, and this is one of them, when we simply have to let go and let God, meanwhile calling up friends and saying, “Help!”

Half the battle in getting the help we need is to be very specific: I need someone to fill in for me next weekend because I still can’t drive; I need a ride to rehearsal; I need someone to take notes at the liturgy meeting. Most people will be glad to help when they’re asked to assist with a specific, limited task, like substituting, transportation or taking notes.