The first time I lifted the welding torch, my arms shook like a sieve 💥. As soon as I hit the switch, sizzling sparks hopped toward my face—I instinctively covered my eyes. Glancing back at the steel plate, the weld bead was as crooked as if a cat had scratched it, and I still remember the way my master sighed.
Later on, ⚙️ I welded every day until my clothes were covered in weld spatter, my gloves stiffened from burns. During breaks, I’d rub my sore, numb shoulders and stare blankly at the small mountain of scrap steel plates, thinking: “Should I really give up?” But every time I remembered my master saying, “Sparks don’t hurt those who put their heart in it,” I’d quietly pick up the welding torch again.
Until that day—after finishing a weld, I took off my helmet and ✨ suddenly saw neat rows of fish-scale patterns spread across the steel plate. The sun shone on them, and even the edges exuded strength! My master patted my shoulder: “Now, you can ‘talk’ to the sparks.”
Now, every time I stand at my workstation, hearing the welding torch’s sizzle and watching sparks weave into a warm band of light before my eyes 💥, the hardships back then don’t seem like much. Turns out growth is this: from fearing sparks’ heat to waiting for their glow, welding every “I can’t” into “I can.”
If you’re also sticking through something tough, don’t panic! Those shaky-handed moments will eventually become the confidence to shine～💪
