my “hope for humanity” tale

The house I’m living in was built in 1921. The garage may be of a similar age but with old shiplap on the exterior rather than the steel siding that was more recently added to the house. Someone, probably after buying a big car, lengthened the garage a few decades ago. My Prius fits easily with room to spare.

Old houses need attention, garages too – in this case, a new coat of paint which (until I broke my foot) I’d planned to address last spring. Last week, having given myself the weekend to clean up garden beds, I planned to begin scraping the south garage wall on Monday. Planned.

Monday morning, I was preparing for some errands – buy paint, return the dented kitchen sink I’d ordered online, look at hardware for the kitchen cabinets we installed the week before. The sink box was big enough that I had to put down the car’s back seat in order to close the hatch. I loaded everything, got in, and, observing that it seemed dark, started the car and backed up. Hearing a crunching noise and feeling an unexpected resistance, I braked. Looking back I realized I hadn’t closed the door after putting the seat down!

I took a picture and texted it to a friend. Could they ask around for a handyman referral?

What happened? I explain.

Is the corner post intact? I check. “Yes.” 

And how is the car? I respond, adding “And I’m feeling very foolish.”

The garage should be a fairly simple repair (with the possible exception of lining up the track). But I can’t assess the car door or bruised ego :-) I breathe a little easier.

Late that afternoon though, I was feeling overwhelmed as I studied the mess. The garage door track wasn't allowing the frame to return to position. This was outside my realm of experience and knowledge. I resisted impulsive action (a good choice, as it turned out) but what was I to do next?

I’m at a loss… I’m on my way over.

Oh, don’t do that. I’m just looking for feedback. (Turns out, they were already in the car.)

We examined the mess together and made a plan. I went out and bought a house jack. 

The next afternoon we raised the door frame enough to slide the framing back into place and adjusted the bent rail. Plenty of work yet to do but functional.

A short while later, I was talking with the next-door neighbor while they were waiting for their puppy to do its business. I commented that I could close the garage door again.

“What happened?” I explained.

They volunteered, “Last week, I broke the tail light on the car. I was backing out of the garage and I ran into the corner of the house!”

… 

That’s it for the story. Now to focus on a couple things.

My initial distress what caused – in fairly equal parts – by damage to the garage and car and by having made such a mistake. (I couldn't blame it on my illness. I wasn't feeling fatigued; the brain fog wasn’t bad.) I felt terrible.

My friend’s concern grounded me. Their comment about a bruised ego was especially helpful. It put things in perspective. (Oh, that’s what it is! I can let it go now.) Their assistance – while I really appreciate it – was tied as much to their curiosity and a joy of working on homes as to friendship. (I'm sure they'd help strangers just as eagerly.) Their readiness to be present with me in the moment and to offer “moral support” was of tremendous value.

And what about my neighbor? They didn’t need to tell me about their own accident. I’m sure it was just as embarrassing for them as mine was for me. We are not close. We barely know each other. They only moved in last year and, while we’ve enjoyed some over-the-fence conversations, we have little in common. Yet in telling me their story, they eased my burden. We shared a vulnerability and let our humanity show.

People sometimes post about experiences that give them hope for humanity. (Are we capable of navigating the current crises or will we collapse under them?) This week, a friend and a near-stranger offered me a lesson in humanity. With gratitude to them, I will choose to practice being more hopeful.