Last week, I hired someone to clean my house. I’d been thinking about it for years because I simply hate to clean. (It’s okay if you judge me. I judged myself.) In fact, the only time I clean is when I look around my house and realize that if I suddenly died, people would talk more about my dirty house than mourn my passing.
Friday afternoon, I came home to a clean house. A very clean house. After appreciating its loveliness for a while, I realized something: Not only do I not like cleaning, I apparently am not very good at it. Even when I gave my house a good cleaning, somehow there are still streaky mirrors, cobwebs in corners, and dust in places that I swore I had dusted.
I don’t like cleaning. I’m not good at cleaning. And, for the time being, I can provide a job to someone who does it well. So I’m going to stop worrying about it.
There is something liberating about admitting you don’t do something well. Because once you do, you can make another plan: improve your skills, stop caring about it, or give the job to someone else. In fact, often during my career, I’ve had more problems with people who simply won’t accept that they can’t do something, continue doing it, and forcing other people to clean up the mess.
I think we all should be more open about our weaknesses. Because, in most cases, that’s all they are: weaknesses, not sins.