Today is supposed to be the finish line.
The kids’ dining room project is sitting in front of me, and if all goes well, today will be the day it finally gets completed.
But before I get to the finish line, I want to talk about the mistakes.
Because there have been plenty of them.
When people see finished furniture, they see the final product.
They don’t see the cloudy finish.
They don’t see the sanding.
They don’t see the frustration.
They don’t see someone standing in a garage wondering if they just ruined hours of work.
A few days ago, I applied my first coat of spar urethane.
I was excited.
Then it dried milky.
Not exactly the result I was looking for.
My first thought was frustration.
My second thought was that maybe I had done something wrong.
The old voice in my head—the one I’ve carried around since I was young—started whispering again.
“Maybe you’re just not good at this.”
Growing up, my dad tried to teach me how to fix things.
Brakes on a car.
A leaky faucet.
Various projects around the house.
Most of the time I struggled.
Sometimes I made things worse.
Eventually, my father sat me down and told me something that stayed with me for years.
He said I should focus on becoming a professional—something like a lawyer, doctor, or businessman—because I would need to make enough money to hire people to fix things.
In his mind, I just didn’t have “it.”
He wasn’t trying to be mean.
He was looking at the evidence.
And honestly, for a long time, I believed him.
But today, standing here looking at cloudy varnish, sandpaper, and a razor blade, I realize something.
The difference isn’t talent.
The difference is persistence.
Instead of quitting, I asked questions.
I watched videos.
I reached out to friends.
I listened to advice from people who know more than I do.
Mr. Donovan has been incredibly generous with his knowledge.
Mr. Ernest from Carmona Crafts has been a tremendous help.
Troy at TXRX has guided me through the confusing world of epoxy, finishes, and woodworking techniques.
Every one of them has reminded me that learning is not a sign of weakness.
It’s part of the process.
Over the last few weeks I’ve learned pocket-hole joinery.
I’ve practiced bridle joints.
I’ve burned pine and cedar using Shou Sugi Ban techniques.
I’ve poured epoxy into coaster projects.
I’ve planned my first lava river table.
And now I’m learning how to recover from a finish that didn’t go as planned.
None of it has been perfect.
But all of it has been progress.
One of the projects I’m most proud of isn’t even new.
Years ago, while building a porch swing, I suffered a serious accident and nearly lost my thumb.
Thankfully it was reattached.
The porch swing still hangs on the porch of the house where I grew up.
That swing reminds me that even imperfect builders can create something that lasts.
As I finish the kids’ dining room today, I’m realizing this project isn’t really about furniture.
It’s about overcoming a belief I’ve carried for most of my life.
The belief that I wasn’t one of the people who could build things.
Maybe I wasn’t naturally gifted.
Maybe I wasn’t a quick learner.
But I’m discovering that skill can be learned.
Patience can be learned.
Persistence can be learned.
And every mistake is simply another lesson.
Herc has been nearby through all of it.
Watching.
Waiting.
Never judging the mistakes.
Just reminding me to keep showing up.
And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
Today, the goal is simple:
Finish the dining room.
Learn something new.
And keep moving forward.
— Sam & Herc 🐾