About the time that my Grandma passed away, I should have been driving my Dad to the airport for his flight back to New York. As soon as I could think clearly enough, I told my Dad we had to change his flight before he missed it. He was a mess (understandably) and couldn't wrap his mind around that task just yet. I jumped online and took care of it for him, delaying his return by a few days. My younger brother was scheduled to leave the following morning. In light of the situation, he wanted to change his ticket too, to stay a few days longer. He squeezed my arm gently. "Can you help me with this? I just can't think straight to deal with it right now." Of course. Ten minutes later, he had his new itinerary in hand.
A while later my older brother came over and hugged me. "Would you please help mom with the funeral arrangements and everything over the next few days. I don't know how to do any of that stuff." "I don't either; I don't even live in this country. But of course I'll help her." He looked me in the eye and said, "I could figure it all out if I needed to, but I'm just having a hard time with all this and I know I won't be able to really focus on it." "No problem..."
It was only as I cried in bed that night (or was it the next night?), that I put all those situations together in my mind, and I felt perplexed. I'm the rock?! For about an hour that day, my entire family had cried together. We'd hugged; we'd sobbed. All of us were hurting and broken. I don't know why I was the one they came to---even just for logistical help. Whatever gave them the impression that I'm the rock?!
Maybe it's true that, more often than not, others see in me things that I don't.