Sanding the Layers

I took on a project...rather cockily, I might add. I was told while planning the project by a few different people (men) that I couldn't finish it in the time I wanted to.

Hmmm...we'll see about that one.

The aforementioned project was sanding down a painted table that was given to me, in order to restore it and have it match our living/dining area. My husband and I worked together to recover the chairs with some new fabric. That was the easy part.

On to the wood...I started with epoxy/paint stripping. P.S. That stuff REALLY stings when it touches your skin. I became an expert on the timing. It takes about ten seconds for the stinging to reach its high point and it stings at the high point for about ten seconds. Scratching, slapping, patting, shaking...etc., the area does not make it any better. You have to bear through the pain--or be smart enough not to keep getting it on yourself.

After stripping the paint and epoxy from the table and chairs, I started imagining a small side career in refinishing peoples old pieces of furniture. I mean, aside from the stinging spots all over, I was a pro after one day. ;)

The next day I started the sanding. My small side career turned into a "just for me and my family hobby" that I would take on every once in while. Maybe rummage some garage sales.

Then, I sanded....and sanded....AND SANDED. FOR DAYS! I could barely feel my hands after all of the vibration from the hand sander and was about ready to through it across the room on day 4 or 5.

ENTER MY RANDOM FOOD FOR THOUGHT...
Now, you may start wondering where in the heck I drew up these thoughts from this project, but you have to understand, when you are sanding for days on end, hours and hours a day, you have a lot of time to think about wood, (especially when you are blowing sand-dust out of your nose).

I started to think about how in the scriptures it talks about how to become more like Christ, we must become more like a little child. Meek. When you are a little child, you are stripped pretty bare to the bone. There aren't layers and layers and years of years worth of coating and protection. Much like this wood I was trying to restore back to it's newborn state, we put layers and layers atop ourselves to make us look better or protect us, as is human nature.

Whilst amid this project, I had a discussion with my husband and I realized that instead of letting him hear the bareness of my soul, I was coating it with layers of protection. Instead of things he was saying "soaking into my soul" or bare wood, it was bouncing off the layers I had put on. Layers such as pride and insecurity that made me easily provoked or offended and left me unable to humble myself and deaf to the things that he was saying.

Then I thought about that darn table and chairs. How frustrated I was with whoever had painted that table OVER and OVER without ever sanding it down. Without ever taking the proper care and preparation to restore it. It made it so much more difficult for me to accomplish my task, because no matter how deeply I sanded, I could not get to the root of my problem.

I realized in that discussion with my husband, that I did not want to be a stubborn, layer-coated table and chairs. I want to learn what I need to learn and protect and shield myself from those things that may harm or taint my body or soul, but I do not want to put on layers of unnecessary crap for people in my life to try to sand through. It's unfair and gosh darn it, it's annoying as all heck. Don't believe me? Go try sanding a painted table.

While its not an overnight transformation and the project may take as long as my dining set, I feel confident that if I sand down my layers one at a time, I can become a better person and maybe a little more like my Savior.

Leave it to me to read WAY too much into a silly project, but I learned a lot from my little project.

And for those of you who care to know how it turned out...the plan was to sand it down and stain the wood a dark brown almost black wood color. After realizing that the table and chairs were made from two different woods AND that my endless sanding job still turned out to not be enough as the stain did not cover spots that still held paint, we ended up painting a LAYER of black.

So, please disregard the ending of my LITERAL story. It doesn't really fit with my ANALOGY....

...but you get my point, right? :)

And had I had to keep on sanding that puppy, there would have been a sander thrown through the wall.

P.S. Restoring will never be a career nor hobby for me. That dream ended shortly after day 2 of sanding began.