I moved the other week.  Or, maybe I should simply admit I am still in the process of moving.  I survived the major milestone of hiring a truck and four strapping young men to transport my furnishings and most of my clothes to my new residence but still seem to remember things to go back to the old place for.

Between my closing date and Mother’s Day, when the four rent-a-sherpas miraculously emptied one place of my earthly possessions and deposited things at my new second floor flat nearby, I had the whole place painted.

A Guatemalan handyman my real estate agent used for many of his clients, along with his diminutive wife (who spoke few words of English), painted my new digs from entry hall to back deck.  I liked him right away.  His rates were very reasonable and he showed me all his receipts. He obviously took pride in his work.

He ran frog tape where the ceiling met the walls so he could guarantee clean lines.  His wife seemed born to paint.  I don’t think they used a drop cloth or newspapers at all, yet they kept the floors clean.  Both were ever so careful about how they loaded their brushes with paint and how they prepared surfaces.

I visited most afternoons to see the progress.  I was amazed at how they painted the trim, the wood around the glass on the French doors; how they took apart and re-assembled the ceiling fans.  Notwithstanding Nery’s sense of craftsmanship and pride, a few mishaps took place.

While painting the bathroom ceiling, he balanced himself on the porcelain top to the vanity resulting in an eight-inch diagonal crack that looked like the corner would come off.  He showed me the crack and replaced the whole top, at his expense.

“You have to be careful,” he advised.  “I wouldn’t let a workman balance himself like that.  I should not have done it.  You have to be careful….” he repeated.

I thought about what he meant, then I contemplated the word often in the days that followed. Careful.

It seems automatic that people want to exercise caution when mistakes can be (financially) costly, or if correcting a mistake might involve a time-consuming process to make things right.

But that is more about fear of consequences than it is about care.  Care is about doing something from the heart, imbuing an act with your best intentions; with love.

Sometimes, I wish people, myself included, would be more careful about the words they choose to express.  I don’t mean that they should agonize over possible interpretations and not speak up for fear of having regrets.

But I think that if you start out from a place of real love and caring, a good understanding will be reached anyway.  It’s always worth trying to focus on positive feelings instead of problematic consequences. Maybe it won’t safeguard you against mistakes, but it will ensure a better experience.

Knowing the difference between careful and fearful is no small thing.