Let me tell you a little secret. Okay, maybe it is not as much of a secret as I think it is, but nonetheless, something I rarely talk about. I have a pride issue, one that has been trampled on this school year. Naturally, we all prefer to know things rather than having to ask. In my case, however, what I didn’t know was information I should have known. The fact that I didn’t kept me in anxious knots for far too long. Then I decided I just wouldn’t deal with it. You know, because denial and avoidance work so well.
When the box arrived, I was excited because it meant new books and our library desperately needs quality books. Immediately that excitement switched to terror because I had zero idea how to label these new books, enter them into the computer, and prepare them for student use. The one tiny piece of information that I had was that each book has a label on it that is scanned when the book is checked out. Using my incredible common sense skills, I decided that these books clearly needed a label.
When I took the job as the librarian, I moved all things “library” to drawers and shelves because I had no idea for what they were to be used. Upon my revelation that these books needed a label, I went to the shelves where I was quite certain the labels could be found. Nope. I went through the drawers. Nope. Then I started going through my stuff because I thought they must have somehow ended up mixed together. Nope. Next, I had my library aides look in all the drawers and counters of the library. Still no. At lunch today I was complaining about the fact that I was going to have to ask for help because I couldn’t find the labels. It felt like the end of the world. If I asked for help, they would know that I didn’t know something. If I asked for help, they would know I was a fraud. If I asked for help, they would look down on me. That is a lot of power to give to labels.
I spent the afternoon thinking on how I could phrase the question of how to create labels and not sound as stupid as I felt. I weighed my options of who to ask by who would ridicule me the least. I did other things to distract me from writing that email or placing that phone call. I did nothing for awhile and pouted. When I felt like I was at the end of my rope and had no other options left, I prayed. Again. I asked God to help me find the labels. I thanked Him for another prayer He had answered today and sat at my desk frustrated. As the day was nearly over, I remembered some words that my friend Lee had spoken. She said, “Movement is healing.” Movement was the word that stuck in my head. So, I got up from my chair and began to move. Slowly, of course. I moved a few books around, I cleaned off my desk, and I went back to the shelf where I was certain the labels should have been. I picked up the box that I thought might have contained them. They were not in the box. They were, however, on top of the box. About a quarter inch thick and about half the length of a piece of paper. Small, almost insignificant little labels – except that they were a direct answer to prayer and an eye opening tool to show me how deeply my pride still affects me.
God has shown me many things during this school year – most of which I did not want to see or hear – all of which have grown me and challenged me and increased my faith. For today, time to let go of some of that pride. I work for an incredible principal who has always been kind, supportive, and encouraging to me. I know that when I post this blog, he just might read it. The time has come, however, to stop hiding behind the “I know it all” mask and let go of the anxiety that comes with the fear it will fall off.
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