We went to see the musical Mamma Mia.
Walking up the stairs, Mom’s knee locked up.
She stopped.
For a moment, she could barely move.
Without thinking, I stepped closer and she leaned into me.
I became her support — her steady place — as we slowly made our way to our seats.
Not dramatic.
Not planned.
Just one of those moments.
And it stayed with me.
Because just as quickly as I’ve had to reach for her arm…
There are moments when she reaches for mine.
When It’s Hard to Admit I Need Help
It’s still hard for me to admit I need help.
Sometimes, I have to turn to my supermom to help me open things.
Jars.
Packages.
Anything labeled “easy open.”
But here’s the funny part.
We tag team it.
Sometimes I can’t get it — and she can.
Other times she can’t — and I can.
And a lot of times…
It takes both of us.
One of us holds the jar steady.
The other twists.
We adjust our grip.
We shift our weight.
We laugh when it finally pops.
It’s not dramatic.
It’s just two sets of hands doing what one set alone couldn’t.
But I’ll admit something.
I don’t like being the one who needs help.
There’s something in me that resists it.
I am the one who should be taking care of Mom — not her taking care of me.
I’m supposed to be the strong one now.
The capable one.
The one who opens the jars.
But life doesn’t always follow the order we expect.
Sometimes the roles blur.
Sometimes… we have to admit we need each others strength.
And maybe that’s not something to fight.
Maybe that’s something to receive.
And it isn’t just jars.
Sometimes when we’re stepping down off a curb or up onto something uneven, we instinctively grab each other’s arm.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to steady ourselves.
We lean into one another.
And we laugh because if one of us loses balance…
We both probably will.
There’s something beautiful about that.
Sometimes… we have to admit we need others’ strength.
And sometimes… the hardest strength of all is admitting we need help.
The Cost of Doing It Alone
Our instinct is still: We can do it ourselves.
And when we do, we often pay the price.
Right now, we are paying the price for all the yard work we have been doing. But worth it!
We have used muscles we didn’t even know had.
The soreness is real.
Our mentality is still:
We can do it.
And sometimes that mentality costs us more than we thought it would.
We are not as young as we used to be.
Our physical condition isn’t what it once was.
And pretending otherwise doesn’t make us stronger.
It just makes us sore.
Physically, leaning redistributes the weight.
Holding steady while someone else twist the jar open doesn’t make you incapable.
It makes you part of the effort.
Gripping each other’s arms on uneven ground doesn’t mean we’re fragile.
It means we’re wise.
Lean Not on Your Own Understanding
Spiritually, we do the same thing.
We lean on our own understanding.
We grip tighter.
We strain.
We insist we’ve got it.
But Scripture gently reminds us:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)
That’s the hardest lean of all.
Because leaning on Him means releasing control.
It means admitting we don’t have the full picture.
It means resting when we would rather wrestle.
The place I most need to lean isn’t on my mom’s arm.
And it isn’t on the counter.
It’s on God.
Because nothing is impossible with Him.
When my strength feels smaller, His doesn’t.
When my footing shifts, He doesn’t.
Isaiah reminds us:
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak… but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
— Isaiah 40:29–31 (NIV)
I may not move like I once did.
But I can still soar.
Not because I’m strong enough.
But because I’m leaning on the One who never loses balance.
And maybe leaning isn’t losing independence.
Maybe it’s finding peace.
Maybe it’s relief.
Maybe the hardest strength of all is learning to admit I need help.
⏸️ Let me ask you…
Where are you still insisting, “I can do it myself”?
Where might you need to reach for someone’s arm — or rest in the Lord’s?
It’s okay to lean.
To be the arm for someone else.
And sometimes…
To reach for the arm of someone beside you.
And most of all… to lean on Him.
Part of the Posture & Strength Series
If this reflection resonated, you may also enjoy:
• Stand Up Straight
• Core Strength: Rebuilding from the Center
• Strength in the Kneeling
• Steady on Your Feet
Each reflection explores posture, strength, surrender, and faith as we age.
💌 Join Our Journey
If this reflection felt a little too familiar… you’re not alone.
We are learning, too, that strength doesn’t always mean standing alone. Sometimes it looks like shared effort. Sometimes it looks like softened pride. And sometimes it looks like resting in the One who never grows weary.
We send a gentle note whenever a new post goes live — no clutter, no noise — just meaningful reflections, shared moments, and encouragement for whatever season you’re walking through.
With love,
Wanda & Kim
💛 Mom and Me Moments
Until our moments bring us together again — make every moment meaningful. 💛