The Bridge Between Who I Was and Who I’m Becoming
This morning Herc and I stopped on a bridge.
The sun was low.
The shadows were long.
The creek below was quiet.
And for a few minutes, we just stood there.
Well, I stood there.
Herc was busy making sure nothing suspicious was happening in the surrounding vegetation.
As I looked at our shadows stretched across the concrete, I found myself thinking about how much of life is spent crossing bridges.
Not physical bridges.
Personal ones.
The bridge between who we were and who we’re becoming.
For most of my life, I believed I wasn’t a builder.
Growing up, my dad tried to teach me how to fix things.
Brakes.
Faucets.
Projects around the house.
Most of the time I struggled.
Sometimes I made things worse.
Eventually, my father sat me down and told me that I should focus on becoming a professional because I would probably need to hire people to fix things.
In his words, I just didn’t have “it.”
I carried that belief for years.
The funny thing is, life worked out pretty well.
I built a career.
Solved problems.
Made a living.
But that little voice never completely went away.
The voice that said:
“You’re not one of those people who can build things.”
Lately I’ve been challenging that voice.
I’ve been learning pocket-hole joinery.
Bridle joints.
Shou Sugi Ban.
Epoxy finishing.
Woodworking techniques I never imagined I would understand.
Some days have been victories.
Some days have been lessons.
Yesterday was one of those lesson days.
I applied spar urethane to the kids’ dining room project.
After it dried, sections turned cloudy and milky.
Not exactly what I had planned.
I was frustrated.
The old voice showed up again.
But this time I didn’t listen.
Instead, I did what I’ve been learning to do.
I slowed down.
I grabbed sandpaper.
I used a razor blade.
I asked questions.
I watched videos.
I reached out to friends.
Mr. Donovan shared advice.
Mr. Ernest from Carmona Crafts helped point me in the right direction.
Just as Troy at TXRX has helped me understand epoxy over the past several months.
One thing I’m learning is that nobody succeeds alone.
The kids’ dining room project may not be perfect.
Neither am I.
But that’s not the goal anymore.
The goal is progress.
The goal is learning.
The goal is becoming the kind of person who doesn’t quit when things get difficult.
Years ago, while building a porch swing, I nearly lost my thumb.
Three-quarters of it was severed and later reattached.
Most people would probably have taken that as a sign to stay away from woodworking.
Instead, that porch swing still hangs on the porch of the house where I grew up.
A reminder that imperfect builders can still create things that last.
Today I’ll head back out to the garage.
The slab project is waiting.
The Bark has been removed
The preliminary sanding has been completed
And somewhere nearby will be Herc.
Watching.
Following.
Occasionally supervising.
Never judging.
Just reminding me that every journey happens one step at a time.
Maybe my dad was right.
Maybe I wasn’t naturally gifted at building things.
But maybe that’s not what matters.
Maybe what matters is being willing to learn.
To fail.
To ask for help.
To keep showing up.
Because the bridge between who we were and who we’re becoming isn’t crossed in one day.
It’s crossed one step at a time.
And today, Herc and I will take another step.
— Sam & Herc 🐾