I recently had the opportunity to play some board games with new people. We were learning a game that none of us had played before, and some of the people playing hadn’t even played a lot of games in general.

For a couple of us, the mechanics of the game made sense after a turn or two. We understood what we were supposed to do each turn, and we understood how our decisions affected our potential to score more points. Those of us who caught on quickly wanted other players to understand, too.

As it turned out, though, our urgent desire to help someone understand wasn’t particularly helpful. It can be a bit overwhelming to have multiple people explaining something as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. One might feel rather frustrated at those “helpful” people.

It would have been more helpful if we had just taken a breath, kept quiet, and let a person figure out what they needed to do. Everyone at the table was capable of walking through their options and learning how to find all of the information they needed. And if they wanted something clarified, they were quite capable of asking. Instead, some of us volunteered assistance that wasn’t requested, and we jeopardized not only the opportunity for someone to learn, but also their enjoyment of the experience. 

This got me thinking about other spaces where we might allow urgency to replace helpfulness. Places where we might want to help someone move forward so intensely that we get in their way. And ours. We might do some damage in our relationships out of a fervor to be helpful. 

Maybe what will work in those other spaces is the same thing that worked at a game table: Slowing down, taking a breath, and giving someone space. We didn’t give up because they didn’t catch on as quickly as other people. And we didn’t force the experience to be more frantic than it needed to be. We trusted that everyone would learn in their own way and at their own pace.

The other thing that worked? A player who was frustrated at other people’s urgent “helpfulness” spoke up. They were able to name that we weren’t really helping. They were able to ask for a little bit of space to figure things out for themselves. 

And they stayed at the table and allowed other players to change their approach. Some people might have allowed themselves to get so frustrated that they just leave, assuming that others aren’t willing to give them what they need. Naming what we want from others, and sticking around to receive it, can be a real gift. 

May we ask for the help we need. May we make sure others know that we’re willing to help. And may we be gracious when our assistance isn’t wanted or needed. (Or at least, not wanted or needed in the way we’re offering it!) 

Slow down, take a breath, give people space, and stay at the table.

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