“Well, let’s do something, even if it’s wrong.”
My sweet boyfriend had driven two hours each way to pick me up from college and take me to the comfort of my parents’ house while I moaned and shivered from the flu. Unfortunately, he had slightly miscalculated the amount of fuel left in the tank. As we exited the turnpike, less than five miles from the nice warm fire my dad had inevitably started in the stove for me, the truck sputtered to a stop. It was cold, it was raining, and it was nearly midnight. (I should mention this was before the days of cell phones in every pocket.) It was more than I could take. I fought back tears as I considered my options. My sweetie and I stared at each other for one uncertain moment before he made his declaration. “Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he added as he jumped out of the truck and approached a night crew working on the road.
Wouldn’t you know, an old buddy of his just happened to now work on a road construction crew, and was on duty at that exit on that night? He handed my boyfriend the keys to his truck—where he had an empty gas can—and in less than thirty minutes we were on our way.
I married that sweet boy a few months later, and he continues to cling to this mantra: “Let’s do something, even if it’s wrong.” When we get lost on a hike. When he’s working on a building project. When we’re trying to figure out how to be good parents. Again and again, for almost two decades, his words have reminded me not to be paralyzed by fear, but to just do something.