If You Aren’t Willing
“If you aren’t willing to tell a story poorly, you’ll never be able to tell it well,” said the man on the radio. These very words rolled right on out of my mouth as I tried to pass on this wisdom to the one standing beside me. Blankly, she stared back—not having a clue as to what I was talking about. I suppose that is how it goes when one has not yet reached double digits age wise.
I expounded on the meaning behind it. “You know, if you aren’t willing to make some mistakes while getting better at something, then you’ll give up and not even try. Perseverance is what it’s about, not perfection.” It wasn’t easy for this first born to catch the drift of what I thought was a meaningful conversation, but I’m a second born. Thus, I do not have the innate desire to do things right the first time. Lollygagging is my style, not forced determination of the task at hand.
When growing up, I’d heard the words, “Practice makes perfect.” I actually never liked that phrase. It always sounded more like a shame based admonishment rather than an encouragement.
To me, the goal of perfection would feel more like a tightrope than a gentle journey through life.
This is not to say that some things shouldn’t be as precise as possible because for sure they should be for the safety of all.
When the speaker suggested we must be willing to do things poorly before we’d be able to do it well, suggested that it is normal to not be good at something right away—and in fact it would be nearly impossible. By suggesting that the goal was to do it well felt like an invitation to endless possibilities. It also seemed more mutually inclusive than a solo flight to the top announcing we were an exclusive club of one. The words the man spoke, “If you aren’t willing to tell a story poorly, you’ll never be able to tell it well” sent the signal that doing something well was worthy of time and effort.
By attempting to do something well, one could imagine many things along life’s journey they might like to try. By not making everything a contest of conquest—even with self— sounded much less stressful and way more appealing.
Case in point: I enjoyed knitting a pair of mittens years back and was quite content when I made nothing else with my knitting needles—ever. I enjoyed learning a new language and communicating without being graded on what it was I did not know. I like playing Wordle (a daily word game played across the nation) and not being one bit bothered when I miss all six words. After all, tomorrow will be here before you know it— along with a new Wordle word.
As far as I know, there was only One who was perfect and I can tell you this much, it wasn’t me.
In fact, it’s important to acknowledge our imperfection knowing that there is grace for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Knowing He is able means that He can and will work through me. Only then will I, too, will be able. And when I am able, I will be able to tell His story and tell it well. And that is enough.
Amen.
