When we last left our Abecedarium, I had discussed my difficulty in deferring to those with greater knowledge and skill than I, ending with committing myself to the word Endurance for this “E” essay.  It’s a little freaky how prophetic my word choices for the next-in-the-series seems to be.  I had better be very careful in choosing an “F” word at the end of this essay!

My very patient long-term readers have been breathlessly following our home renovation saga.  For you newbies, Trish and I decided last spring to redo and expand our kitchen as well as put in a new main bedroom suite above our garage and family room.  Over the spring and summer, we worked with the builder on design; picked out cabinets, granite, appliances, fixtures, and a million other things you need to choose; “locked in” construction to theoretically start in October; and, made plans to move into her sister’s house while she and her husband wintered in Florida.  It was a great plan.  We packed up the kitchen, living room, and garage (into our sun room, basement, and office) and awaited word on when demo would begin!  Thus began a saga that is only now trickling to an end.  We knew that the valley on the other side of the mountain would be worth the climb up the shear cliff in front of us.  We knew there would be unexpected twists and turns.  We just figured we’d be able to handle it all with grace.

As I write this, sitting at the island in our new kitchen, we are really close to being done.  I feel calmer than I have in months.  Trish and I are starting to laugh a bit at some of the difficulties we encountered along the way.  Just a bit, though.  There are still some raw topics.  Getting through this construction has truly been an exercise in endurance and it got me to thinking about the role “learning to endure” has played in my life.

It is true that pushing yourself through difficult times makes you stronger.  I ran track in high school and focused mostly on short distances.  One meet, our state-champion miler was out with an injury and the coach had me run the mile.  Me, the sprinter who normally ran the 440.  (By the way, these references show how old I am.  We did not use metric distances when I was in high school.  By “440” I mean 440 yards, a quarter mile.)  The 440 is a really tough race because it’s too short to pace yourself but too long to be an all-out sprint.  Keeping something in reserve for that last 100 yards while not falling behind the pack was a constant challenge.  When I heard the crack of the starter’s pistol for that mile race, I ran out like I did for a 440, realizing in less than half a lap that that was a big mistake.  I backed off my pace but had no prayer of keeping up with other milers.  I ran hard and lost badly.  After that meet, the coach had me run more distance drills during practices.  I hated every minute of it; however, my 440 time began to steadily drop.  I had more endurance for the last stretch of the race because of the challenge of pushing past my normal limits.

I have an endless list of “endurance” stories in both my personal and professional lives.  Perhaps my most instructive one was when we were negotiating to outsource the department I lead to ownership by another company.  The “we” I’m referring to is myself and the rest of the department leadership team.  This was not something initiated by senior management of the company.  In fact, convincing THEM that this deal was in their best interest was the toughest part of the process.  We started by making inquiries with the target parent company and then began our pitch internally.  We didn’t discuss this with the members of the department because we had no idea if it would go anywhere.  Once it appeared the deal had legs, we made the plan public.  We thought, since there was basic buy-in from both sides, that this process would proceed quickly—a few months.  It took, start to finish, about 18 months—and about a year from when we made the organization aware of the plan.  The twists and turns, the drama and intrigue, the impact of the politics and individual agendas wore us all to a frazzle.  As the head of the organization, I bore the responsibility of the decision and the commitment to make it work out well as a heavy mantle.  It was not easy.  It was not perfect.  I’m sure there are many who would say it was the wrong decision.  But we made it happen and for at least a while it was a positive move on balance.  Getting through the process took a heavy toll yet I came out the other side stronger than I had ever been.  It made me a better leader and a stronger decision maker.

I count this whole renovation among my endurance lessons, as well.  The granite for the bathroom was eventually cut correctly for the sinks the builder ordered, although he ordered the wrong dang sinks!  He ordered square sinks; we wanted round.  Sounds like a small detail, but it was just the last straw.  I was in the airport in Charleston, exhausted after a few fabulous days with my college friends, when I got the call.  Not the call you want to get when you are tired, hung over, and your stomach hurts from eating too much rich food.  I was so angry when I got home that I called the builder and yelled for ten minutes.  I only allowed him to speak when he agreed to pay the balance on what we owed the granite supplier.  Hopefully, over time those square sinks will not dig at us, but for right now, we just hate those sinks.  Now, however, the bathroom is complete.  The granite is beautiful.  The carpet is in (this time with no stains or mold).  The new platform bed frame is awaiting the mattress.  All furniture has been returned to its rightful place.  Now that the dust has settled—and I mean that literally, since dust is EVERYWEHRE—we see how beautiful the valley is on the other side of the mountain.  We have endured.  We are the better for it.  We will never, EVER go through a home renovation again but I’m sure there will be other challenges that we will need to endure.

One valuable lesson I learned throughout this whole process was the need to force myself, literally FORCE myself, to focus at least as much on what was going right as on what was going wrong.  It is easy, of course, to allow yourself to focus on the bad.  It is critical to make the choice to not lose that perspective.  Easier said than done.  So, why was this whole renovation thing so hard and so traumatic?  Because it was an FFT.  We’ll discuss that next time.  (Hint:  Fans of my spirit animal, Brené Brown, already know what that means.)