Coffee, Wood, and the “Perfect” Crucifix
So, there I was, one Saturday morning, sitting at my kitchen table with the smell of fresh coffee weaving its way through the air, crafting plans for my latest project. After dabbling in woodworking for a few years now, I thought I had a pretty good grip on things—until I decided to make a crucifix for the church. I mean, how hard could it be, right? Just a couple of pieces of wood nailed together? Well, let me tell you, that project turned into quite the saga.
The Initial Idea
I had seen some beautiful crucifixes on the forums I like to browse, each one with different dimensions and wood types. Some were made from oak, others from walnut, and they all had this kind of warmth that just spoke to me. I figured a simple design would suffice— about two feet tall, with a nice sturdy base. I had my eyes set on a lovely piece of cherry wood I’d been saving. It had that rich, reddish hue that I thought would bring a real warmth and depth to the piece.
But thinking it’s simple and actually doing it? Well, they’re about as far apart as the sun and the moon.
The First Mistake
My first mistake was underestimating the dimensions. I’m pretty sure I’d read somewhere that a standard crucifix is around six feet tall. But I figured, hey, maybe the one for the altar can be a bit smaller, right? So, I went for two feet. When you’re in the moment, everything seems fine. But once I got to the cutting stage, I stumbled upon a realization: two feet might be too small for a church setting. I mean, I was going for elegance, not a toothpick on the wall.
As I stood there, the buzz of my circular saw filling my garage, I almost gave up. Like, seriously. I thought to myself, “What am I even trying to pull off here?” It felt daunting, and I know if you’ve ever done woodworking, you’ve probably hit that wall too. But then, back to the forums I went. I saw photos of different sizes, dimensions buzzing through my head, and that moment of doubt slowly got swept away. With a few clicks, I got reignited and decided to move ahead.
The Cutting
So, armed with a firmer understanding of what I was doing, I cranked up my trusty DeWalt table saw. That thing has seen more action than a bar on a Friday night, let me tell you. Cutting that cherry wood was like slicing through warm butter. The sweet smell filled my little garage, a smell that I could chase until the cows come home! I’ve always loved that scent of freshly-cut wood—nothing else comes close.
But as fate would have it, I miscalculated the thickness of the pieces I wanted. I ended up with one arm considerably fatter than the other. It was like the crucifix had caught a nasty case of asymmetry. When I realized that, I laughed. I mean, how absurd did it look laid out in front of me? I’ll admit, in that moment, I let out a lighthearted “Oh, come on!” because how could I have gotten it so wrong?
The Assembly
After fixing the dimensions, I finally got to the fun part—assembling everything. I gathered my trusty clamps (I had a real mishmash of brands, the products of years of random tool shopping), some wood glue, and my confidence was building back. This was going smoothly.
The first few pieces went together like, well, like they were meant to. I applied the glue, felt the satisfying “squish” as I clamped the pieces together, and it was smooth sailing for a good bit. But then, as I was lining everything up perfectly, one of the clamps slipped. I looked over and there it was, a delightful little twist in the wood. The cross was now looking more like a question mark.
In that moment, I wanted to toss it all in the fire pit outside, I really did. But, once again, I had that realization that a project never goes off without its mishaps. I fixed it up with some wood dowels because, why not? I mean, I was already on a roll of learning from my mistakes.
The Final Touch
Once I got everything glued, clamped, and looking reasonably close to what I had envisioned, it was time for the finish. I picked up my can of Danish oil—a real old-school favorite of mine. The first stain against that cherry wood revealed a glow that took my breath away. It deepened the color and brought out the grain like something magical. Watching that transformation happen felt like pouring sunlight onto a foggy morning. Suddenly, all the mistakes faded away as I got lost in the simplicity of it all.
As I sat back, staring at my creation, I felt this strange mix of pride and disbelief. I couldn’t wait to show it off. That crucifix may have gone through some rough patches—trust me, there were plenty of those—but it ended up being a piece made with love, patience, and a lot of trial and error.
The Takeaway
So, here’s the thing, my friend. If you’re thinking about diving into a project like this—whether it’s a crucifix or something else—just go for it. Don’t let the missteps scare you off. Learning and failing is what makes it all worthwhile. It’s messy, it’s frustrating, and sometimes it might make you question your sanity, but by the end of it, you’ll create something that tells a story. And that story? Well, it’s yours, and that’s what makes it beautiful.
