As my twenty-month-old granddaughter pushed her plastic shopping cart through our house, she ran into the transition strip separating the living room’s flooring from that in the kitchen. It stopped her in her tracks and so she turned, looked up at me, held her hand out and said, “help!”. It was not a demand. She was not mad or frustrated. She just realized that she had come up against something she could not fix on her own. After I lifted the cart over the transition strip, she said, “thank you” and carried on down the hallway. Unfortunately, I am not like her. My pride makes it hard to ask for help. My jealousy makes it difficult to be thankful. For too many years, I lived under the illusion that I got to where I am on my own, but the truth is that...