It’s like stripping down paint. Down to the original wood. Sanding. Scrubbing. Scrapping away the paint if years past to reveal the original warmth that has been covered up with coats and coast of paint.
Stripping wood is a toxic business but well worth the efforts. The finished product is a return to the vibrant once seen by the maker. After Shellac? And more sanding and oils? The painted pieces that was all covered up is new a live again.
You’ve got to have a eye for such a job. You must know that the wood below the paint is worthy of such an undertaking. You’ve got to believe to even try. Some people can’t take the fumes? Some people give up? Some people don’t even try? They just throw it away and buy new. But not me.
I know their beauty beyond the paint of days gone by. So I work. I scrub. I scrape. I sand. So I can see the rewards of such an endeavor.
It’s like finding a piece covered up with junk in a garage. Only those with an eye for antiques gets it. What that price can look like if it’s stripped back to original to present it’s true beauty. Like me.
And truth is like a stripper. Not that kind? Don’t go there. It’s a way to scrub away with your truth all the truth you’ve shared together. Like two rocks running together make fire? And also make smooth. Me and my Mama are like that. Two stones god is rubbing together to get us back to reveal our original patterns and make new ones.
I imagine my Mamas never had anyone care as much as me? Someone willing to work for what is mine to come back to original life. To shock her heart and make it beat again for me.