brights...

I went to an auto shop today to pick up a headlight.  My passenger low beam has been out since... two weeks ago. And technically I've been out of town a lot of that time, and not exactly driving at night like a luny in the dark.

Well, I'm a little luny. But that's not news to anyone.

So I took my part back to the garage, got out the tools, and went to town. I wanted to do it myself.  I needed to do it myself. As my hands turned black with dirt and grime, and small pricks of sweat appeared, combatting the heat of the recently running engine, I felt good. Strong. There is something about doing things on your own. Not always asking for help. Trying something new. Even if it's scary. Or you're not quite sure what you're doing. It's empowering. And to be honest, I felt like a bad ass. Yep. I did.

Then I realized I had the wrong headlight. It didn't fit in the socket. Back to the store. New headlight. Replaced it. Still nothing. No light. Back inside the store.

Turns out I was replacing the high beam. Seriously? Re-bought the low-beam the guy correctly gave me in the first place. Tried multiple times, unsuccessfully, to reach the incredibly awkward placement of the low-beam. Contorted my hand and screwdriver while being sure not to touch the bulb. Cursed on my insides. Scraped my arm. Started nervously sweating, again. But I had to get it. I had to do it myself.

I needed something I could be in control of. Something I could fix. Something that would let me know I am okay. I would be okay. I could do this.

Whew. That's a lot of pressure on one tiny, $11.47, lightbulb. Poor thing.

Then I called my dad. He reminded me I would be seeing my brother in a day.

I slammed the hood and started the car. My screwdriver stared dejectedly at me from the passenger seat.  I dialed my brother. Of course he could replace the bulb. He would be happy to.

And then I laughed. Wow. I was so caught up in wanting to prove myself. To be independent and confident instead of girly and weak (as if those are even legitimate opposites). It was a humbling moment. An enlightening moment. A frequently needed reminder - I'm really not the one in control And it's okay to ask for help.

No really, it's okay.

The beauty of what God can do with a simple lightbulb, after all...