What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

Every so often throughout the year, I find myself asking the same question.

Not to anyone else. To myself.

Even at 40 years old, I still can't help but wonder.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

It's a question we're asked constantly as kids. Back then, I thought I knew the answer. Everyone seemed to know the answer.

But the older you get, the more forks in the road appear. Some lead to dead ends. Some climb steep hills. Some are full of traffic. Some are smooth and easy. And some look like they've never been traveled at all.

I became a carpenter at 30. More accurately, a remodeler. Although, depending on who I'm talking to around Athens, GA, it's usually easier to just say I'm a handyman.

For reasons that made sense at the time, I chose this path a decade ago. Overall, I've enjoyed the journey. It has had its highs and lows, and if the road had been perfectly smooth the whole way, I'm not sure I would have stayed interested for long. I've always enjoyed challenging myself. Looking back at everything I've traveled through—the successes, the failures, the unexpected detours—those are the things that make up the story of my life.

The hardest part has never been the work.

It's been the people I meet along the way.

Most of the time, I work alone. Not because I necessarily want to. Every now and then I find people I genuinely enjoy working beside, and the journey becomes more enjoyable for a while. But eventually, something changes, and it feels like it's time to take different roads.

Maybe it's because their road starts looking a little too smooth for me. Maybe it's because I want to follow a different fork than they do.

Or maybe it's because I realize I keep lending out my spare tire while nobody remembers to bring their own.

Then there are the people who drift into my life for only a short time. They usually have a need, but I struggle to find where we truly fit together. In reality, I tend to think of these people as middlemen. They have a great smile, but not much else to offer. If things ever became difficult, I know that smile would quickly become blame, with no willingness to step forward themselves.

They're often the ones encouraging me to take on challenges they have no interest in attempting. And because I'm naturally curious about what I'm capable of accomplishing, I'm usually the one who steps up.

The past couple of years have made me question a lot.

I'm confident in my abilities and in what I can deliver. But I also know I have plenty of room to grow.

And I want to.

Some people want me to become an employee. Hitch my horse to their cart in exchange for mediocre pay and the promise of steady work.

Some want me to take on greater liability, whether through a general contractor's license or some other responsibility, so they can gain access to bigger opportunities without carrying the burden themselves.

Others simply want me to remain the last-minute solution. The person who steps into situations well outside my wheelhouse, fronts the costs, absorbs the risk, and hopes it all leads to something better down the road.

But after finally having a chance to slow down and breathe lately, I keep finding my thoughts returning to the one trade that still excites me.

Carpentry.

Not just one part of it, either.

Home building. Remodeling. Finish carpentry. Rough carpentry. Even some woodworking, though I don't see myself becoming a cabinetmaker. I enjoy creating custom pieces when the opportunity presents itself, and whenever I talk about these ideas with the people closest to me, they keep encouraging me to lean into them.

Part of me wonders if I should specialize. Become the door guy. The window builder. The trim carpenter. The framer.

But I'm not completely convinced that's the road for me.

Many of those specialties seem to require being tied to a much larger company that subcontracts the work. Once again, there's a middleman standing between me and the people I'm actually trying to help. That's never been a relationship I've been particularly comfortable with. Or I just have not found the right one yet.

I think there's something valuable about being a carpenter who understands the whole house instead of just one piece of it.

At the same time, there's a deep part of me that wants to truly master something. I don't know exactly what that looks like yet.

Maybe that's the journey I'm on now.

As long as this season of peace continues, I want to keep becoming a better carpenter; and maybe, more importantly, a better craftsman.

Maybe I'll figure it out.

But with every mile I travel, fewer and fewer of those forks in the road seem worth taking. And for the first time in a long while, the path ahead is beginning to look a little clearer.