I started refinishing furniture again. It is hard work, time consuming, dirty, and tedious, but it relaxes me. The piece I am working on is a 120 year old pie safe. I got it from a good friend; it was her grandmothers, and then hers. It hasn't held any pies lately, or anything for that matter, but has been patiently sitting in my garage waiting for me to get up the courage to begin the massive project. The piece is about 6 foot tall with years of paint, dirt, and life embedded in it. I know the hours that I will put into this piece to make it beautiful again. I anticipate setbacks--what if a piece of hardware breaks, a sander goes too deep, a rusty nail rips my skin, or on a deeper level, I can't do anything else until I finish it, as in I wake up thinking about it and neglect the rest of my life so that I can work on it.
I get started anyway. As I begin to collect the tools that I need-- cleaning agents, degreasers, paint strippers, masks, sand paper, rags, eye wear, gloves, my hand sander and Dremel kit, and lay it all out on the garage floor, I kid myself into believing that I am in control. I have it managed. That illusion only lasts a minute. As I begin, I immediately know that I am not in control, this project is so much bigger than I am, and that if I put any more thought into it, I will never finish. The job is too big, too messy, too hard. I can't do it. Just leave it like it is, clean it up a bit and be happy with what I have. After all, it looks really cool right now, and this green isn't too bad.
But I plunge in. I start unscrewing door hinges that would much rather be left alone. I carefully remove all 32 screws. I pray as I unscrew because I want to keep all of the original hardware. I want to preserve the piece as much as possible. Getting it back to what it once was is my goal. Once all the hinges are off, I soak them in a vinegar and water with a bit of baking soda solution. I use a little pan that I can put on the stove later to gently cook off the old paint. I won't use this pan again for cooking. It belongs in the garage now, a new use and life for it. I start hand scraping layers of long ago painted pale green. The paint is thick and oily, and clearly I need to use something stronger than my muscle. I try my palm sander, but the paint is gooey and stubborn, it has been around longer than I have, and it seems to have melted into the piece. I get tough with the citrus stripper. The mess just gets messier. There are drips and bubbles of old paint, now sweet smelling, but toxic. I have paper under the cupboard to catch the worst of the mess, but I wear gloves and eyeglasses and old clothes to protect me as best I can.
And while I work, I think of my own transformation throughout this adoption. As of today, Sarah and Isaiah are home 9 months. It has been very messy at times, mostly in that the undertaking--adopting two children at once--is immense.
We have two more human beings in our family. That translates to, at the most practical level, two more portions to cook, laundry loads to do, rooms to clean up after, field trips to make, school schedules to keep track of, and homework to help with. Most days all of them need me at once, maybe not for homework but for something. I guess I'm just stunned by the reality of our life right now. There is always so much going on. There's a lot of ugliness coming out of me, and I feel it deeply right as God transforms me into who he wants me to be. I want to go back to the happy energetic bright person that I once was. And I know I will get there, just as each of us in our family will get there, but right now, my transformation, and our family's is in the hard stage. Like the pie safe, we need hard work to reveal the beauty underneath.
And even though I struggle with our new reality I know that it is right. It is worth the effort, the messiness, because like the pie safe, underneath the crazy over- fullness is beauty and wholeness and restoration.
2Corinthians 5:17 ASV
Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new.
I get started anyway. As I begin to collect the tools that I need-- cleaning agents, degreasers, paint strippers, masks, sand paper, rags, eye wear, gloves, my hand sander and Dremel kit, and lay it all out on the garage floor, I kid myself into believing that I am in control. I have it managed. That illusion only lasts a minute. As I begin, I immediately know that I am not in control, this project is so much bigger than I am, and that if I put any more thought into it, I will never finish. The job is too big, too messy, too hard. I can't do it. Just leave it like it is, clean it up a bit and be happy with what I have. After all, it looks really cool right now, and this green isn't too bad.
But I plunge in. I start unscrewing door hinges that would much rather be left alone. I carefully remove all 32 screws. I pray as I unscrew because I want to keep all of the original hardware. I want to preserve the piece as much as possible. Getting it back to what it once was is my goal. Once all the hinges are off, I soak them in a vinegar and water with a bit of baking soda solution. I use a little pan that I can put on the stove later to gently cook off the old paint. I won't use this pan again for cooking. It belongs in the garage now, a new use and life for it. I start hand scraping layers of long ago painted pale green. The paint is thick and oily, and clearly I need to use something stronger than my muscle. I try my palm sander, but the paint is gooey and stubborn, it has been around longer than I have, and it seems to have melted into the piece. I get tough with the citrus stripper. The mess just gets messier. There are drips and bubbles of old paint, now sweet smelling, but toxic. I have paper under the cupboard to catch the worst of the mess, but I wear gloves and eyeglasses and old clothes to protect me as best I can.
And while I work, I think of my own transformation throughout this adoption. As of today, Sarah and Isaiah are home 9 months. It has been very messy at times, mostly in that the undertaking--adopting two children at once--is immense.
We have two more human beings in our family. That translates to, at the most practical level, two more portions to cook, laundry loads to do, rooms to clean up after, field trips to make, school schedules to keep track of, and homework to help with. Most days all of them need me at once, maybe not for homework but for something. I guess I'm just stunned by the reality of our life right now. There is always so much going on. There's a lot of ugliness coming out of me, and I feel it deeply right as God transforms me into who he wants me to be. I want to go back to the happy energetic bright person that I once was. And I know I will get there, just as each of us in our family will get there, but right now, my transformation, and our family's is in the hard stage. Like the pie safe, we need hard work to reveal the beauty underneath.
And even though I struggle with our new reality I know that it is right. It is worth the effort, the messiness, because like the pie safe, underneath the crazy over- fullness is beauty and wholeness and restoration.
2Corinthians 5:17 ASV
Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new.