Foraging for Paper Clips

The other day, I was driving in the car with Brad when his brother Zach called. The Bluetooth system in the car automatically connected to the call, so I was able to hear both sides of their conversation as I rode along in the passenger seat. I’m not sure Zach even knew I was listening in as he told Brad about an experience he had a few nights ago.

Zach started off by filling Brad in on the status of the dump trucks they own together. This is a fairly new thing—about six months ago, Brad, Zach, and a couple of other guys formed a partnership when they learned of the high demand for trucks to haul away construction debris in the Salt Lake City, UT area. It has been a bit of a whirlwind. Almost immediately, they secured a contract for a road construction job, and they now have four trucks, four dump trailers, and enough drivers to keep them running day and night.

But it’s also been a huge learning curve in a short amount of time. There’s a lot to running a trucking company, and they’re all learning it as they go. That’s what cracked me up about Zach’s side of the conversation. It went something like this:

Brad: "How’re the trucks running?"

Zach: "Good, dude. The trucks are running good. But the stupid trailers…" (starts chuckling)

Brad: "What?"

Zach: "A couple of them have been sticking, you know, in the up position. They tip up to dump and don’t come down." (more laughing) "Yeah, I get this call from [driver’s name I can’t remember] in the middle of the night the other night, and he’s all 'I can’t drive. I’ve tried everything and the thing won’t go down.' So of course, I popped out of bed. 'I’ll be right there.'”

Brad: (Knuckles go white on the steering wheel. He hates that he’s so far away and can’t help with stuff like this.)

Zach: (totally laughing) "So there I am, driving out to this construction site in the dark, and I’m thinking, What am I doing? I don’t know anything about trucks. What am I going to do when I get out there? Just walk around the truck and say, Yep. It’s stuck? I don’t know how to fix this. I mean, I’ve heard one of the mechanics say something about a sensor you can bypass with a paper clip, so I’m searching my car for some stray paper clip. But I don’t know where this sensor is or how to bypass it."

Brad: (gives me an eeeesh glance from the driver’s seat)

Zach: “Luckily, when I got there, [one of the other partners] was already there, and he knew what to do. We got it working. It’s all good. We should be able to bill…"

He started talking hours and invoices, and I tuned out for the rest of the conversation. All I could think about was Zach getting the call in the middle of the night and hopping into action, whether he had a solution or not. 

In the nine months since I shared my cancer diagnosis, I’ve had lots of people say things like “You’re so strong” or “brave” or “inspiring.” I hear these comments and of course appreciate them, but underneath it all, I cringe a little, feeling like a fraud. I’m not brave or strong or inspiring. Honestly, I’m more scared and weak than anything. I write down my thoughts because it helps me to sort through my feelings, to make sense of this illness and what it’s doing to me and my family. But most of the time I feel like Zach, sifting through cup holder junk in the middle of the night, hoping to paperclip a dump truck back together. 

Like Zach, all I can do is get out of bed at the call. A friend of mine made a comment once that really resonated with me. She referenced a time in her life when everything fell apart, and how she used to hate it when people praised her for pushing through it. She said she would just stare at them and think, “What choice do I have?” 

That’s exactly what I think. What choice do I have?

It doesn't matter if the water is cold or warm if you're
going to have to wade through it anyway.
- Teilhard de Chardin

I think it’s fair to say we all have things we have to wade through. Some things are harder than others—for some the water seems especially cold—but the fact remains that sometimes we just have to plunge our feet in and keep moving. All around me, I see people up to their knees in icy waters. Things like caring for challenging children, starting over in a new place, dealing with loneliness or isolation, or being betrayed by someone they trusted. Cancer is certainly not the only hard thing out there—or even the hardest thing. There are lots of difficult things that happen to good people, and those people just deal. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I feel so compelled to share my thoughts—so others in the water will know they’re not alone.

Or maybe I’m just selfish and need an outlet for my emotions. That’s possible, too. Probable, actually. I certainly don’t feel very noble, and the last thing I want to do is set myself up as some sort of do-gooder when that’s not really my motivation. But I will say these last few months have made me more aware of the struggles happening around me. Life isn’t easy for anyone, and if I’ve ever said something that speaks truth to someone or offers a sliver of hope, I’m glad of it. 

Because honestly, out here in the frigid water, it really does help to have a few friends who are freezing, too. Yes, sometimes we cry and wish our feet weren’t so cold, and we may even pause for a while to feel sorry for ourselves. But then we look at each other and take the next step. 

And hope this dang paper clip will work.