I was on my hands and knees
staring up at a series of silver pipes and tubes,
trying to find the source of the problem,

when I realized that,
I don’t know diddly squat about how to fix a leaking sink.

And there, from my hands and knees on my really-needed-to-be-swept floor, I realized,
there are many things in life that I don’t know how to do.

Like,

I’m still learning
how to fold a fitted sheet – if there really is a way to nicely fold a fitted sheet.

See, even Oprah is still learning.

And how to
sew a button,
curl my hair,
do my taxes,
grieve.

I have barely learned how to drive an automatic,
gritting my teeth at the thought of a clutch because
all that gear shifting and thinking about gear shifting while I’m driving make me
absolutely nervous.

Then the driving lesson ended because these guys showed up. Saved by the ducks!

I’m still learning how to not
kick myself when I’m down,
because that’s not going to help me get up any faster.

I’m still learning
how to sit,
how to rest,
how to take naps,
how to enjoy naps.

I’m still learning how to break chains of fear that once bound
my ankles
and my mind.

Still learning that the chains have been broken and that all I’m called to do is
dance
dance
dance.

I’m still learning when to stop,
when to take a day off from the running and open the book, instead.

I’m still learning what my voice sounds like,
and that my voice holds power,
that the words I speak stem from
a deep place that knows the truth of what needs to be said
and that I never have reason to doubt it when I feel that inner core of Peace.

I’m still learning how to be a better friend,
how to be thoughtful,
how to remember birthdays
and love languages
and how just stopping by
or sending a letter
or picking up the phone and saying
Hello. I love you.
really makes a difference.

There is so much that I’m still learning.
And I’m beginning to think that the older I get, the more there is to learn,
and the more there is to call me out to remind me that I still make
many mistakes
and stumble
and put my foot in my mouth – all size 11 of it.

At the end of each day,
in the solitude of my not-knowing,
I smile.

Because there is joy in being humbled.
And there is pain and mess in the mishaps,
and sometimes heart-hurt and strain in the forgiveness.

Covering it all, however,
is grace.

If there is one thing that I commit to take from learning to knowing
today,
tomorrow,
and tomorrow’s tomorrow —
it’s that Grace shows up,
every day,
and reminds us that our still learning,
is exactly where we’re supposed to be.