My favorite color is you

One of my favorite pastimes is working on craft projects with my daughter. I’m definitely no Lia Griffith (I actually don’t even know who Lia Griffith is; I just found her name by searching for well-known crafters), but I enjoy it. 

Pipe cleaner shamrocks for St. Patrick’s Day

I can’t lie—many of my crafts don’t turn out quite like I expected or hoped. I often have come up with an end result that can best be summed up as a “learning lesson.” But some of the projects even go beyond the status of “learning lesson” and turn out pretty cool.

A gratitude wreath for Thanksgiving

This project was borderline—a learning lesson, but I thought it was kind of cool.

One recent endeavor made use of broken crayons—of which I have an abundance—and resulted in heartfelt gifts in the form of Christmas ornaments. (Pro tip: Plastic ball ornaments will NOT withstand the heat of a hairdryer.) The second one I made turned out pretty shade of blue-green. My daughter immediately asked if we could send it to my sister—saying it matched her name. Interestingly enough, my sister’s name means “juniper tree,” which is an evergreen tree with blue berries. 

I was anxious to get the ornament shipped, to ensure it would make it to my sister on time. But as I took it to the post office, I could see that it looked looked much different in the daylight than in my apartment. There were nearly transparent spots on the decoration, and a section where, despite my efforts, a large piece of crayon had settled. I knew I needed to do more to fix it before sending it.

I have to agree with my daughter, it fits with a name that means juniper tree.

I’d liked the colors so well, the way they had blended originally. I’d hesitated to expose it to any more heat because of how it might change the color blend. It emphasized to me the importance of looking at things in a different light—both literally and figuratively. What had looked so pretty in a dim light was exposed in the daylight as crude and unrefined. And when we can see that our work is exposed in that different light as incomplete, we’re faced with a choice. We can either accept it for what it is and leave it. Or we can choose to change what is good (in the dim light, at least) to make it better.

Maybe it’s fear that holds us back from making a change—will it turn out better, or will it be worse? Maybe it’s being comfortable with where we’re at, even if it’s not at our fullest potential. Perhaps we’ve gotten discouraged and can’t find the motivation; after all, the ornament was likely going to be seen by my sister and displayed in indoor lighting similar to mine. And even if she could see the deficiencies, she would appreciate the heartfelt gift. But that’s not how I want to live my life. I want to give the best I can, and take the risk to change things to make them better. 

At the same time, though, I found a reminder in my 7-year-old to not get hung up in striving  for perfection. Repeatedly, I second-guessed my work. Was it good enough? Was there still more I needed to do with it? My daughter’s childlike satisfaction as I questioned my work redirected me to do my best but not to be overly critical of myself.
I guess it’s not just the messed-up crafts that provide learning lessons.