I woke up early today and was pleased to find that we didn't hit 90 degrees. I threw on some work clothes, and went outside. An unexpected breeze swept across the yard, so I decided to do something familiar: I pulled weeds.
My childhood wasn't as autonomous as I would have liked. While exhibiting my independent streak, my parents did a little too much fishing, and not enough teaching to fish. Their motivations were different: my mom just wanted us to enjoy our childhood, and my father (more apt to instill actual discipline) rarely had the patience show us. And since he was a perfectionist, trying often meant shame.
Pulling weeds was the exception. It is relatively mindless work, and requires little more than physical exertion and will. If it doesn't look like it belongs, pull it. I have less than fond memories of kneeling in the unshaded garden, pulling weeds in the thick Indiana humidity.
Now, I don't mind it. Of the hundreds of things that need to occur in maintaining my new abode, the ones I am most likely to finish are those I have done before. Installing that door window? I'll get to it someday. Decorating the walls? Maybe someone will lend advice. If household plumbing should ever be necessary? Dear God, help me.
As I cleared out a satisfactory section of mulch and shrubbery, God spoke to me:
"Why are you afraid?"
Its silly to think, I'd prefer others to think I'm lazy than afraid. The truth is, I'm not lazy -- I'm an excellent worker. When other camp staff would stand on the sidelines, I would sacrifice my body so the game could continue. When extra hands were needed to do the dishes, I took the grimy front line and established an efficient unit. I was the only one willing to clean the fridges at the coffeehouse. When I tackle our staff bathroom at FCC, I scour the desk area as well. I take the girls for a walk when the other staff complain it's too hot or too far. I'm still the 3rd fastest stockboy to ever grace Woodies Supermarket.
Neither do I fear risk or adventure. If given the voluntary opportunity to do something nobody has done before, I'm there with a smile :)
"What again am I afraid of, God?"
There are a giant list of things I would have loved to have learned as a child. I want to play an instrument, rollerblade, fix my car, grow corn-on-the-cob...decorate this freaking house! But given the option to try and fail or shrink in fear, I always choose fear. Gasp. "These are things my parents should have taught me. These are things that draw the tone of condescension from competent folk. These are the things that make me a real man." So when my girls ask me to jump in to Double Dutch, I politely pass and concede, "Maybe next time."
This is so STUPID. Of course I should have learned to jump rope as a kid, but my girls aren't asking me to be amazing -- they want me to play with them. They want the opportunity to laugh at my clumsiness, and all I've done is encourage the insecure kid to shrink as well. I hold inadequacy as a matter of humility, but it is a far greater issue of pride. If I only do the things I know I can do (or those nobody else is willing to do), I puff up my success and rob myself of learning wonderful things.
Baby steps, right? Audrey is now gazing wonderfully at the front door from my living room wall. While pulling weeds, I pruned some plants as well. I will not only jump into the next Double Dutch, I will flail my body mercilessly and give the girls a story to tell.
One weed at a time...but that's part 2 :)
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