Epiphany

I was telling my friend my latest homeowner snafu and asked her for her trouble shooting ideas. As we talked, I had an epiphany. What seems particularly difficult about this stage of life is the lack of handy people I have accessible. I grew up with a handy dad, two handy grandpas, and a handy uncle. Between these four minds and eight sets of hands, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t tackle. My dad invited us into his handy circle. There was never talk about his daughters not being welcome because we were girls.

By the time I entered middle school and walked into the wood shop, I knew the names of all the tools on quizzes we took before we could touch a thing.

When two young college graduates came into my home to help assemble bookshelves I’d ordered online, it was my ingenuity that helped the three of us get over some design hurdles we encountered. I was especially proud when one of them said, I think you might be a genius. I thought, Thanks for noticing.

This feeling of frustration stems from two things: 1. I do not have the upper body strength to do some of the handy things I could otherwise manage and 2. This shoulder injury makes me even less capable than usual.

I know handy people, but most of them live out of state. Those who live near by have busy households of their own. I recognize this frustration comes from my inability to be self-sufficient, which I have managed to be in most other sectors of my life. Another reason this lack of handiness bothers me is that I recognize it as a love language. I miss these expressions of care and concern.

I don’t have an easy fix for this, but as a wordsmith, half the battle is giving it language. I can’t ask for help if I don’t know what I need. I do now. Calling all handy people!