We walked into the bar, looked around, looked at each other and wondered aloud if we were in the right place. My sister and I had booked an evening to attend a rustic sign painting event. The parking lot was full of trucks. And the bar was full of men. We double-checked the address, it was right. We stood in the entrance to the bar unsure what to do next.
Two more women walked in behind us and we watched them do exactly the same thing we had. They surveyed the bar, looked at each other with a quizzical look, then turned to us. “Are you here for the paint night?”
We were, and their arrival was encouragement. We weren’t the only ones who were confused. There was strength to be found in company even when the entire company was bewildered. Their arrival gave me courage to walk into the bar and follow a server around until she acknowledged me. And I did. I followed her to a table, away from the table, and nearly to the kitchen. Only a matter of about twenty feet but she was focused on her work and oblivious to the lady hunting her down.
Once I had her attention we learned the paint night was at the far end of the bar, up some stairs and in a semi-private area. There we went. Four ladies traipsing through the bar from one end to the other. Remember, there is strength in numbers.
Up the stairs and into the painting area. If I had been uncertain about the venue I was about to be even more bewildered by the process. Two ladies invited us to sit at their table. They kindly told us where we could get our boards and we introduced ourselves. Then we waited, and we wondered. Who was in charge? How would we know what to do? Why wasn’t anyone telling us how this worked? Finally, a lady came by with our stencils. Now we were making progress. We had our boards and our stencils.
Then she walked away again. And we sat and waited with our boards, stencils, and gracious tablemates. Truth is Jenny waited, I didn’t. Because fundamentally I am impatient. If there’s a job to do, let’s get the job done. So, I began to peel the stencil off the backing. Big mistake. The sticky stencil responded much like cling wrap gone berserk.
I backed out of that plan. I tried to stick the stencil to its backing again, but there were wrinkles and small tears. My sister was laughing at me. Then the lady appeared again telling me not to do that. And I was reminded of all the things I hated about school. But what was I supposed to do? I still didn't know what to do and she was gone again.
Now I was moving from impatient to grumpy. I just wanted to know what to do, so I could do it. I was having trouble understanding why she couldn’t tell everyone at once or provide some written instructions on the table and then circulate to help those who needed it. I am often an instructor’s worse nightmare, I recognize that, so I was trying really hard to be good.
Eventually we did receive enough instruction to get our signs made, and mine turned out ugly. I stuck the lettering stencil on too low. I used the wrong colors for my background and my letters. After it was done, I could see the mistakes I had made. My mistakes could have been avoided with some instruction or suggestion from someone with experience.
I’m pretty sure there are recommendations on whether to make the background paint lighter or darker than the lettering. There are probably some rules of thumb on where to position the lettering on your sign, so it doesn’t look goofy. And better lighting always helps.
That’s life. Sometimes it feels like we are in the wrong place at the wrong time, without proper instructions and adequate illumination trying to figure out how to make something happen. When we find ourselves in that predicament, hunting down someone to help is a good starting point. There is wisdom in exercising patience and asking lots of questions when the way forward isn’t clear. Being okay with a less than perfect outcome and finding the beauty in the experience will take the hard edges off. The saying I picked for my sign was “Find joy in the journey”. I think I’d better hang my ugly sign up in my office to remind me to be patient with myself and others and to enjoy the journey.
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