I hold the flame near the burner. Click, click, click. The smell of fuel stings my nose. My stomach growls. Just then, my cousin Andrea returns with a bucket of water.
“Still not working?” she asks.
“No.”
“We could drive to Trelingua,” she says, “and see if they have camping stoves there.”
“Or, just eat the gumbo cold.”
My legs ache from hiking. I want to sprawl on a boulder and watch the sun sink behind the rusted Chisos Mountains, not drive forty-five minute to Terlingua to see if they sell stoves.
A man with white whiskers moseys over from the adjacent campsite.
“Trouble with the stove?”
“Yes,” I say. “it’s not lighting.”
Leo introduces himself and tinkers with our stove, but can’t find the problem.
“You’re welcome to mine,” he says. “I already ate dinner.”
“Thanks,” I say, “but, we’ll try Trelingua first. We planned to cook all week.”
* * * * *
We return to the campsite after sunset. Instead of a new stove, I pull a bag of Sterno burners from the backseat. “For light outdoor cooking,” the label reads.
I set up the makeshift grill and light the first Sterno burner, but an hour later the gumbo is still cold. I drop my head on the picnic table.
“Leo’s stove?” Andrea suggests.
* * * * *
I wake up the next morning, cocooned, but still shivering, in my mummy sleeping bag.
“What should we do about breakfast?” I ask Andrea. “It’s oatmeal.”
“We could borrow Leo’s stove again.”
I flop back onto the pillow. “I hate being so needy!”
Eventually, though, we’re chowing down on oatmeal and hot coffee when Leo stops by.
“Thanks for letting us borrow your stove again.” Andrea says.
He rubs his beard, then asks, “You girls ever seen The Godfather? Well, I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse. I’m leaving today and I’ll sell you my stove for ten dollars.”
* * * * *
I hate being needy. It makes me feel high-maintenance. So, I avoid asking for help whenever possible. But, St. Leo and The Camping Stove (as we later referred to it), taught me three reasons why it’s good to ask for help—and why we should do it more often:
1. Gumbo tastes better warm.
Maybe we can stomach a difficult situation on our own, but why not see if someone else can warm up the gumbo.
2. Sometimes, people go above and beyond.
When we ask people to warm up the gumbo, they might just decide to go ahead and give us the whole stove.
3. Asking for help weaves the net of humanity a little closer.
Since Leo’s wife stays at home while he camps, he was thrilled to talk with us. We, in turn, were eager to pass his kindness on.
What help do you need today? Maybe you can make it on your own, but why not ask for help? Let someone else brighten up your day, and offer them the gift of being needed.
Refreshing. Just what I needed to hear as a care giver.
Glad it was helpful!