There’s a lemon in life that I’ve been trying to turn into lemonade for quite some time now: mistakes. Logically I understand that mistakes are a part of life and a key element to learning. Some of the world’s greatest inventions, from potato chips to penicillin, were discovered or created accidentally. If I were talking to a friend or a student, I would encourage them to try different things, make mistakes, and learn something new—but me make a mistake in my internship? Surely this would be the end of me, my career over before it started.

Well, it happened. Wednesday, October 2, 2019, I made a mistake. And? I’m still here. I’m not suddenly the common cathedral outcast; I’m just a student who is here to learn and mistakes are part of the process. My error wasn’t huge or disruptive and it likely went unnoticed by others. It wasn’t until a meeting with my supervisor, when we were discussing my day at common art, when she pointed out that my way of conversing with a member of the community could set us both up for failure later on. It was overwhelming to think the way I worded a single question could be so impactful; the nuances of conversation are incredibly complicated, even more so in raw moments of therapy or pastoral care. I predict this will be a lesson I learn repeatedly throughout my training and career, as it’s impossible to predict, study, or practice every potential conversation or scenario. However, now I know one question not to ask and, more importantly, why not to ask it, so I will avoid setting myself and my clients up for similar situations in the future. This was a step for me, not only in the process of learning how to engage with clients and community members, but also learning how to learn from—rather than run and hide in abject terror from—mistakes.

10-10-19, Amanda Ludeking