Which Are You?

Which Are You?

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

There are just two kinds of people on earth to-day;

Just two kinds of people, no more, I say.

Not the sinner and saint, for it's well understood,

The good are half bad and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man's wealth,

You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span,

Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years

Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No; the two kinds of people on earth that I mean,

Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth's masses,

Are always divided in just these two classes.

And oddly enough, you will find too, I ween,

There's only one lifter to twenty who lean.

In which class are you? Are you easing the load,

Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Or are you a leaner, who lets others share

Your portion of labor, and worry and care?

This poem was a part of Shelby's language studies this week and it struck both of us. And it has really made me think about the message over and over again, which is (after all) what good poetry should do. Truly, there are only lifters and leaners. But does it follow that you are always a lifter or always a leaner? And if you are always a lifter, then do you even give others the opportunity to become a lifter?

I think a healthier approach would be to have a balance of lifting and leaning, although I realize that the facts of the case are that most of us tend to fall into one category or the other, rarely crossing over. Truth be told, Scott and I are both lifters. It is just our natural response when we see a need to extend a hand. We are working hard to raise an army of lifters, ready to assist others at a moments notice. And, for the most part, the lifting mentality does seem to be sticking on our kids.

My natural tendency is to serve. To see what needs to be done in order to make a road smoother. But reality means that occasionally I will need help for any of a dozen reasons. Should I feel guilty, then, for needing to be a leaner at that moment, or should I instead accept the help with a warm and gracious heart? I think that I am to be gracious, and to ask with a humble and thankful spirit.

I enjoy being a lifter. Not because I have a saviour complex so I can dash in and fix someone else's life and then feel tremendously good about myself. Rather, I enjoy the sense of peace which comes from the person you've assisted, regardless of how. It is such an encouragement for me to be a part of such a peace, as if you immerse yourself into a glimpse of Kingdom Living and are then strengthened to keep fighting the good fight for another day. For both Scott and I, this is the heart of being a lifter.

But, that being said, isn't it equally important to teach our children a sense of their own humanity? A realization that God created us for community, in part, because we need others in our lives to share our joys and lift our sorrows? There are dozens of verses in the Bible which talk about serving others. But, if I don't allow myself to be served from time to time, aren't I preventing someone from learning to serve?

Yet, the struggle for me personally is that, truly, I do not feel we (as a family) need help very often. We tend to run a relatively ordered life which is efficiently handled. Not boasting, just observing from my insider's perspective. But, let's also agree that most of our family and friends do not live in a family of 10, so their outside perspective is that surely we need more help then we let on. Scott and I both tend to balance one another's desires to serve with our very real daily obligations fairly well, meaning we rarely overextend ourselves. It does happen, but it is not frequent. How do we then convey to others that we truly are fine and we'll honestly let others know when we need that extra hand without seeming either arrogant or in denial? For us, this is a tough one!

So, perhaps the question shouldn't be "Which Are You," but rather "Which Are You Mostly?"