About a month ago, I learned how to change my oil. I was very patiently taught. Very kindly guided. Tools were provided, my actions were spotted, and I was surrounded by a team of grown-up adult supporters who handed me both tools and advice as needed. A week ago, I thought I’d change some oil on my own. After alll, I’d done it before so I’d do it again. And, the process was still fresh on my brain. Ope! [spoiler alert: I asked for help (twice)]. To my credit, when I asked for help, it was not for lack of skill but for lack of strength. And also lack of a functioning e-brake. This is a testament of confidence and courage. And a witness to community. I should note, that with confidence I swapped the wiper blades–a quick replacement–though I think about the first time I changed them I was so frustrated I wanted to cry.
In five years I’ll reflect on this and laugh at the car rolling backwards down the ramp (remember the e-brake?) as soon as it was “parked”. And the oil covering my clothes and hair. And the dust and oil getting on my face and in my eyes.
I wore a work shirt that day. A white one. A gift. “Wear this when you’re working, and you’ll soon be covered in the stains and stories of what you’ve been up to.”
I’m really proud of the day’s stains. Of the day’s story. Because I tried a new hard thing on my own. I was very brave. And I asked for help when I needed it–not before giving it a solid attempt. (And attempt I did!) And lastly, praise God, my people pulled through and helped me and helped me and helped me.
The oil was changed. The blades replaced. The shirt stained.
I and the shirt collected another stain and another story. Another skill. Another adventure.
Disclaimer: there is truly nothing more humbling than learning something new. Anxiety. Frustration. Desperation. Fear. Embarrassment. From the other side, I cannot express to you the pride I feel. But let me tell you, that was un.comfortable.