The first time I curled my fingertips around the welding torch, 💥 the sizzling, bursting sparks froze me in place right away! My view inside the welding helmet was a mess; the weld bead was as crooked as a thread ruffled by the wind, and sweaty palms soaked the torch handle—I was full of thoughts like “I’m afraid I can’t handle this job” back then.
Later on, ⚙️ I squatted at my workstation every day until my knees went numb. The small holes burned by sparks in my gloves were mended over and over, and the scrap steel plates I ruined piled high enough to be a step stool. My master always said, “The molten pool is the soul of welding work—you have to keep your eyes on it as you move.” So I kept my eyes open, chasing that dancing patch of light, going from being dazzled to tears to being able to steadily “lead” it along.
Until one day, after finishing a weld, the moment I took off my welding helmet—✨ there were actually smooth, even fish-scale patterns spread across the steel plate! The sun shone on them, and even my master smiled and said, “This weld joint has grit.” My hand clutching the torch trembled a little—that was the first time I thought, “I can do this.”
Now every time I hit the switch, listening to the soft sizzle of sparks and watching them weave into a shiny band of light before my eyes 💥, I want to tell my past self: “It wasn’t for nothing!” It turns out growth is just this: turning the fear of sparks into anticipation of sparks, and welding every “urge to give up” into passion.
The hardships you’re enduring now will also be warmed by the light of your passion! 💪
