Never have I ever been the type to enjoy the process.
And take all your journeying and give me all the destinations because I just enjoy the part where it is done.
After hemming and hawing for almost 2 years over a replacement patio table because ours was sun worn enough to disintegrate beneath our bums and we had to find one that was heavy enough to withstand all the winds because we’re on a hill and all winds are tornadic winds and also one that was not the price of a mortgage because hi we’re the Connors- and it turns out those two criteria are-in fact- mutually exclusive and even the marketplace is turning into a boutique outside my budget.
Insert breath release here.
So, when I found a “seats six” picnic table on good ol’ Amazon for a price I couldn’t turn down I hit “buy now” faster than I can finish a carton of Oreos and it’s worth mentioning that I am an Oreo finishing champion.
Anyway.
Upon the highly anticipated picnic table arrival, I discovered it was about six sizes smaller than I expected and I really think descriptions should include what kind of “six” things it can seat. Like are we talking regular sized people or like a child’s action figurine.
But by the time it arrived and I was knee deep in unpacking the styrofoam packaging I thought this is happening.
This is the part where not a “the process” person becomes relevant because the directions- although in English- read like a foreign manual.
I should also mention that my brain doesn’t work. It just can’t picture projects before they’re completed and measurements mean nothing. I actually think that rulers are wrong because even when I measure the space between two holes on a picture frame and then put little dots on the wall in the exact same spot distance as the ruler said to, it somehow doesn’t line up.
Needless to say that by the time I got to the ‘attach the supports to the legs piece’ (which was very early in the process) I could feel the frustration welling up in my chest because what the what is this asking me to do.
Right around the time of my beginning to compose a scathing review of said picnic table on said app my #3 came out and asked if he could help and because his brain works in numbers and logic I gladly accepted and let me tell you: wow.
I had the most fun Saturday afternoon I have had in a lot of months-maybe even ever. And I didn’t know I could enjoy the process of anything ever.
Watching him understand what we were trying to do while I was still scratching my head and then explaining to me how we were trying to make a triangle out of a circle – insert all the heart emojis here.
And then listening to him teach me all that he had learned on screw guns and attachments and construction from his dad warmed my hate-the-process-stone-cold-hardened-heart so thoroughly that I found myself wishing I had bought two tables just so we could have more process time together.
I hear so much about ‘enjoy the process’ and ‘it’s the journey not the destination’ and try as I might I found myself on repeat calling bullshirt because I just wanna git.’er.done.
Until yesterday.
When it truly was about the process and I think that the part that matters the most in all those cliches is who is in it with you.
When you’re journeying with your people , the journey might really be the best part.
That’s what I’m leaning into anyway and I’d like to invite you to do the same.
But also, a put together picnic table that may or may not seat six is a pretty close second.
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