The man who built our home cut corners with precision. Not the actual joints of the building, rather, he skimped on materials and labor and did just enough to prevent all the imperfections from being revealed during a home inspection while simultaneously fooling unsuspecting buyers. They say the best teacher is your last mistake. I’m an involuntary scholar. Mistakes are my thing and I make them with great regularity. That’s how I learn.

Over the past two decades, we’ve been engaging an array of contractors to make repairs and improvements, nodding our heads in agreement as each delivers their report about odd construction decisions as though it were news to us. It is not. After a tornado blew by in 2015 a few milies away we learned our shingles were clinging on for dear life by cheap and sparsely placed roofing tacks instead of proper nails.

“Man, they really cut corners. It’s amazing you didn’t lose your roof!” said the roofer holding a few shingles we found in the grass. We’ve replaced a failed double-pane picture window hung a few inches too far out into the world. (I don’t even want to think about the rest of the windows, it will just make my head hurt.) A parade of plumbers have come and gone, shaking their heads after righting the wrongs happening under our sinks. Every painter mentions there’s a slight difference in height of each side of our door frames, creating a subtle optical illusion. There are many iterations of this throughout the house. Think gentle fun house at a carnival.

And the list goes on. At this point we’ve replaced and upgraded so much we’re nearly crossing the fifty-yard line toward completely reworking the house. To begin again somewhere else feels overwhelming. Better the devil you know.

All this has me thinking about how often we simply have to trust the integrity of others. We do this a lot. We send our children to school entrusting their care and well-being to teachers, as we should, I was one of those caregivers and we are highly regulated. We board a plane or a bus believing the person behind the wheel will get us safely to our destination. We eat culinary delights prepared by esteemed chefs in fine restaurants or teenagers working the french fryer at a drive-through, rarely worrying about food poisoning. I’m thankful for regulation and inspections. We pay attention but most of us don’t ask for credentials. In these ways, our trust is modulated.

While still a relatively young and green person, I remember asking our real estate agent to help me research the builder of our home before purchase. We had just a few weekends to find a house in a cross-country corporate move which feels like tossing everything precious to you in the world into the air and hoping it all lands safely, while running hard and fast, and maybe getting on an airplane a few times and crying in front of strangers. I needed my agent to be trustworthy and competent. She really let me down. She didn’t bother to do the work. Instead, she depended on the information the seller’s agent provided and told me the house was built by a well-respected builder. This was a lie to make the sale, bankrupt builders who are run out of town are not the best. I heard someone say recently that you can’t make good decisions about your life if you don’t have all the facts. I am responsible for doing my own research.

Over the years I’ve gained fluency in the language of ‘replace and repair’, I’m really getting pretty good at it. I thoroughly interview people we potentially hire, meeting with at least three companies for any given project, preferably highly recommended by someone I know who feels the same way I do (now) about attention to detail. I ask about staffing, avoid the use of subcontractors, and try very hard to fully read contracts, even the small print. And still, we get duped. The highly regarded local company replacing our deck this month has today chosen to move their team on to a new project for ‘a few days’, leaving us in suspension and unfinished. As per our contract, I paid the last third of their fee a few days ago as men were lifting hammer to nail, things looking well on their way to completion. Now I am left with texts from the project manager using words like ‘hope’ and ‘plan’ to complete the work next week. They are presently into week five of an estimated 2-3 week job. The porta-potty next to the garage has become a lawn ornament. Sometimes the absence of integrity is breathtaking, isn’t it? I’m tired of people doing bad things and excusing themselves when I object by saying,

“I’m sorry you’re upset.” (But I’m not going to do anything about it.)

What they really should be saying is,

“I’m not worthy of your trust.”

I have learned over time I can research, interview, and mutually contract but I cannot control the end result of a home renovation project. I have no influence over which defects unscrupulous builders choose to hide beneath the sheetrock or siding if I buy a home. And I cannot control how people around me act. The only choice I have is to try and make well-thought-out decisions based on facts I know. Sometimes this process feels terrible. And sometimes it’s okay. I have a gentle reminder tacked up where I can see it for the times I stumble. Someone smarter than me wrote it but I can’t remember who it was right now.

Trust yourself.

Know that it’s okay to make mistakes. That’s how you learn.

Do the best you can do.

Then, free yourself of the outcome.

‘Then, free yourself of the outcome.’ That’s the hardest part, but it is my favorite.

Here’s to me and you, working on being free and self-forgiving. We’re doing the best we can, which is quite enough.