I just finished sanding the old paint and company logo from the lid of a wooden cigar box. It took hours—even with an electric sander and three grades of sandpaper. If I were charging for my time, this box would be very expensive. But it won’t be—it will be the same price as the other cigar boxes I sand down and decorate. Why? Because I learned a lot from this lid.
As I mentioned in a previous blog (“Sanity Maintenance”), I was downsized and used my crafts to keep an even keel as I looked for my next job. One craft is sanding down cigar boxes and decorating them by wood burning designs on the sides and lid. I’m getting pretty good at it!
Some of the boxes require very little sanding to remove the old paint and logo. However, some logos are impressed into the wood and require a lot more sanding. This particular box had a lid with a heavily impressed logo and many layers of paint. I sanded and sanded and sanded, and when I stopped there didn’t seem to be any difference. The lid looked exactly as it had when I’d started!
I was tempted to give up many times, but it became a challenge. And more than that, it became a valuable lesson. I’ve found that I like sanding and decorating the boxes. I like the tactile feel of the soft wood under my fingers. I like the sense of accomplishment I get when I finish wood burning the design and seal the box.
As I worked on this lid—off and on over several days—I found ideas popping into my head. Thoughts like, “This stubborn paint represents my frustration, anger and disappointment.” The words I was sanding off changed from “hecho in Honduras” (“made in Honduras”—or Nicaragua or wherever) to names of people or companies that were part of an old life that was no longer valid. As I sanded off the paint and words, I was erasing the old and making way for the new, both on the box and in my life. I rejoiced when a spot on the lid cleared up and I could see the bare wood. Today was my breakthrough—perhaps I’d sanded through enough layers, or perhaps I’d learned the lesson. At any rate, as I worked I saw more and more of the natural wood peeking through the spots of paint. And as I equated the layers of paint to layers of “stuff” in my life, I felt lighter (emotionally) as the lid got lighter (color intensity).
When I got down to the last few flakes of old paint, I briefly thought of leaving them to remind me of all I’d been through to sand this lid down. But then I knew I had to erase those last flecks. Yes, I’ve been through a lot in my life. There have been a lot of challenges. There have been hurts that I never thought I could erase. By leaving those last few flecks, I’d be admitting that the lid was too much for me. I’d let the box carry scars I wanted to heal. In effect, I’d be admitting defeat. So I persevered and erased those last few mud-brown flecks of paint to reveal the fresh, clean wood underneath.
I’ve learned another big lesson as I pursue this hobby, and that’s patience. I can’t rush the wood burning (pyrography). I have to wait patiently for the tool to get hot enough to burn the wood. And I have to move the hot tip slowly over the penciled design so the wood burns evenly. Sometimes I want to hurry the process and finish the design, but taking my time ensures that the design is properly burned into the wood.
This hobby started out as a way to keep my sanity through a very trying time. It has become a valuable life lesson. I now look forward to wood burning a design into this lid to see if it has any more lessons for me.
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