I just wanted a new mailbox

But I guess I got some life advice too

I don't know what I'm doing.

Yes, that's my house back there (or 1/30th of my house based on what I've paid off). Yes that's my white Toyota back there (or mostly mine, I can't remember what I owe at the moment).

Yes, both of those financial decisions run through my head when I try to sleep sometimes. Both of them stick out from my budget app online that I can't fully figure out. Both of them prod my sense of manhood with worrying thoughts and "You're about to be a dad. You should be better at this."

In the foreground is my grandfather and my dad fixing my mailbox because my neighbor ran over it.

When they finished, Dee Daw looked at me and said "We going to get your lawnmower out?"

"I'm not letting you mow my lawn," I said.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you do it." He was cleaning the dirt off the shovel.

"Today is the sabbath."

"Are you Jewish?"

At lunch over a pimento cheese sandwich I asked my dad about parenting advice; he just shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Dad and Dee Daw had the mailbox back up in 20 minutes. And later that day, I moved the lawn (after resting for a while).

I guess what I'm saying in all this is, I don't know what I'm doing. But maybe I'm starting to learn that is the point: none of us knows what we're doing.

But people show up to fix your mailbox and save you from having to pay for a new one. You realize that your yard does need mowing to show your neighbors you care. You make friends with the guy who hit your mailbox. You keep the sabbath even though you're not Jewish. And sometimes you give better parenting advice with a shovel and some dirt than with your words.

The kindness of God to people who don't know what they're doing and aren't doing enough is subtle like that; graceful, even.