This is the story of the best trash to treasure project ever.
In the history of ever.
My brother came to visit and loved his chalkboard and made me laugh and roll my eyes and drank all my diet coke….
….and brought me a table.
If this is your first time visiting that might seem unusual. If you have read this blog for more than five minutes you’re not in the least surprised. That’s how my brother rolls.
He never met a piece of pallet wood he didn’t like.
Here’s the table he brought me.
Looking all simple and plain and a little ordinary.
A trash to treasure project in disguise.
Simply look at the top.
It’s completely made up of all the tiny scraps from all the letters and clocks and shelves and boxes that have gone before.
Each little scrap.
Each little piece of junk from the floor of a woodworker’s shop.
Each little piece destined for the trash.
All came together to form something wonderful.
He wanted a table top….but he created a piece of art.
Look at the patina and how the pieces fit together and the jagged and worn and weary edges of so many past projects.
No rhyme or reason or symmetry.
He brought it in sheepishly and put it down and shrugged his shoulders and told me he made me something different than anything he’d ever made before.
And he wasn’t sure if I’d like it.
It was different.
And a little random.
And rough around the edges.
And I smiled and jumped up and down and awkwardly dolphin clapped and told him I loved it.
And I then I took another look and told him it reminded me of……
If I’m keeping it real here….there are so many times when I doubt myself and my projects and my decorating and my questionable red velvet pant choice and I then I see someone newer and shinier with perfect teeth and perfect hair and the appearance of perfection and birds singing around their head and rose petals dropping when they walk.
And I try to tell myself I’m amazing.
I really, really try.
I remind myself of amazing things I’ve done and that really good hair day I had a week ago and the project I finished that at the time seemed worthy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
But inside I shrink.
Self-doubt creeps in.
And amazing seems light years away.
Maybe that’s why I identified with the table.
It’s kind of like me without the red velvet pants.
Different. Random. A little rough around the edges.
But all those scraps and junk and random bits of absolute nonsense? Together they create joy and uniqueness and imperfection and character and a one-of-a-kind personality.
And I realized that somewhere along the way….
….a little bit of amazing just showed up.
PS This post is a little raw and tender….but written from this table’s heart. 🙂