I started quilting the Pentecost banner this morning. I was nervous. I AM nervous, but I can handle it. I can do this. SURELY, I can do this. I’ve done it a hundred times.
But I’m scared. Scared I’m going to mess it up. Scared I actually DON’T know what I’m doing. Scared I’m going to ruin all my hard work in a few moments of bad judgement and a poorly aimed needle.
When I began quilting my shoulders were tense, I was plodding along and then stopping to look every two seconds to make sure I was going the right way — I was going somewhere, but I was going nowhere fast because I was ready to quit. I tried pulling myself together and I tried all kinds of different self-talk to get myself going, but nothing was working.
Then a picture appeared in my mind — the beginning of a little video, actually — I saw one of the young boys on the baseball team I coached years ago get a hit. He dropped the bat and stood there, a bit stunned because getting a hit wasn’t something he did often. “RUN!” I cried. And he looked at me and he started running. About three-quarters of the way to first base he turned his head to try and see where the ball was, slowing his step. “Don’t look, just RUN!” It was going to be close, could he beat the throw? “Don’t look, just RUN! Trust me!” And he stopped looking, and he just ran. He beat the ball to the bag by a half step.2