Well, it finally happened. I had to change a tire without my husband there. In fact, not only did I have to conjure up the memory of how to change a tire, but I had left my American phone at home, my island phone was dead, and I had two teenagers in the car. Also, I was stupid enough to park in the mud on a slight slope, which made the whole thing more difficult. And you know what? It wasn’t actually so bad. In fact, in ended up being a good thing, in a way.
Of course, no teenage boy who has been promised a beach excursion wants to sit in the mud and change a tire. But the kids I had had a pretty good attitude, and I was a darn good thing they were there, especially R, who never complained once and worked really hard for an hour. Together, we managed to jack up the car, get the blown tire off, not get our feet smashed when the car slid in the mud and fell off the jack, jack it back up, and put on the mock.
As soon as that tire blew out, I knew I had two choices: get really stressed out and frustrated, or play it cool and have a good attitude. To be honest, if I was alone I probably would have thrown a great big hissy fit and cried a little. But with two teens in the car, I didn’t have that option. If I could keep my wits about me, it would be the perfect opportunity to model how one ought to handle a crisis. I decided to stay very calm and not freak out. By the grace of God, I was able to do just that.
We were quite a ways away from any buildings, so I just pulled off in a dirt patch and we got out to survey the damage. Yup, the tire was flat, and we were not going to make it any further than where we were. In hindsight, I should have made sure we were on level ground, but I was focused on staying level-headed. “Well,” I told the boys, “You two are going to learn how to change a tire.” And I silently thanked my dad for showing me how to do it way back when I was their age, because otherwise we would have been in big trouble.
I unloaded the massive amount of random stuff out of the trunk (you know, coffee pots, sheets, and spoons, the usual) and located the spare. After some hunting, I found the jack Ben bought and an assortment of tools. It took us what felt like seven years to get the car up, and I honestly wondered if we were actually going to do it. Even so, the whole time, we stayed pretty chill. Maybe it was a little overkill when I suggested we think up positive things about our situation (R looked at me like I had lost my mind), but better positive than negative, I guess. I’ve been in worse situations– Ben and I once changed a tire in the rain using a jack, a broken antenna, and an old fork, only to discover than the spare was also flat. We survived that, so we could totally survive this. Sure enough, couple hours later, we were back in Philipsburg with a new rim from the tire shop and a pumped-up tire. And R was armed with his newly-acquired knowledge of how to change a tire.
I learned a few things from this situation. First, it’s super nice to have a helpful teenage boy around who is strong enough to raise the front end of a car. Secondly, I’m more capable of taking care of myself that I thought. Third, I need to be vigilant about how I handle things these days, since a bunch of kids and teens are watching me.
Finally, I learned that being a mentor isn’t just about fun outings and giving advice. It’s also about walking through everyday life with someone, in the good times and the bad, and showing them how to deal with life’s storms. I think that maybe the flat tires of life are the most powerful mentoring moments.
What has been your most powerful mentoring moment? Comment below to tell me about it.
