Every morning, I walk to a river where the Peter Overington Bridge stands. Built strong enough for snowmobiles, it rests on three wooden supports filled with stone. With railings that run along both sides, I feel framed by the bridge as I cross\u2014a reminder that this passage isn\u2019t wide or easy, but built to carry weight.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Bridges symbolize an opportunity. It\u2019s not just crossing water. It\u2019s a step into something new, a leap toward potential I haven\u2019t met yet.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n My new path is with the Haliburton Crew, a local construction team. Each step I take feels like crossing a river made up of doubt, challenge, and setbacks. Not every task feels like progress. Some are repetitive. Some don\u2019t require much skill. But that\u2019s not what matters. What matters is showing up, carrying the fire inside, and being willing to keep crossing even when the other side isn\u2019t clear.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n That lesson became real when I was assigned the task of creating wooden trim pieces and the related metal drip caps. It required me to learn a range of tools, which included an aluminum break,, a large tool \u2013\u00a0 a little more than 10 feet long and takes two people to move into place \u2013 that enables the shape of the flashing on houses. On paper, it sounds simple. In practice, I\u2019ve made plenty of mistakes \u2014 asymmetrical wood pieces, warped metal, crooked trim, and me fumbling with every step. I look foolish, but I keep at it.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n There\u2019s a saying in the trades: \u201ctime on tools\u201d is how you get better. That\u2019s true. But the best lessons don\u2019t come from doing it right. They come from doing it wrong \u2014 again and again \u2014 until your hands remember before your mind does.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Mistakes aren\u2019t just part of learning. They\u2019re the foundation of growth. Persistence doesn\u2019t come from success. It comes from failing and pushing through. Real achievement isn\u2019t getting it right the first time \u2014 it\u2019s working through the awkwardness and doubt that come with looking foolish.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n But it\u2019s not just about mistakes. It\u2019s where you make them that counts. Growth needs a place where you\u2019re safe to fail. Mr. Rogers said it best: \u201cWhen you need help, look for the helpers.\u201d On a construction site, that couldn\u2019t be truer. The helpers are the ones who share their know-how without judgment, who offer a hand or a nod of encouragement. They remind you that perfection isn\u2019t expected \u2014 only effort.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Even when a job feels done, it often isn\u2019t. Things change. Expectations shift. Mistakes show up. So you go back, fix it, adjust. The work doesn\u2019t end. And neither does the learning.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n In many ways, this new path feels like crossing a bridge while still building it \u2014 one uncertain step at a time, not sure if it\u2019ll hold. Some days I move forward with confidence. Others, I stumble and wonder if I belong here at all. But progress isn\u2019t a straight line. It twists, stalls, doubles back. Then, suddenly, you find yourself standing a little taller, holding a tool with a bit more ease.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n That confidence doesn\u2019t come from getting it right. It comes from being willing to look foolish, to try again, and to be surrounded by people who don\u2019t just tolerate mistakes \u2014 they welcome them.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Like the Peter Overington Bridge I cross each morning, this chapter isn\u2019t about reaching a perfect destination. It\u2019s about having the courage to span the unknown \u2014 with help, humility, and heart.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Columnist\u2019s note: This column was written after a brief hiatus from the trades to accompany my father to walk his niece down the aisle at her wedding (since her father had died decades before), to ride a motorcycle across Canada, and return to work as a dogsled guide at Winterdance Dogsled Tours.<\/span><\/p>\n About the author<\/em><\/p>\n Darren<\/span> Lum<\/span>, an OCNA and CCNA award-winning reporter and Photographer of the Year, now works with the Haliburton Crew, a Haliburton Highlands-based construction company in Ontario\u2019s cottage country. He writes about turning the page to a new future, building a new life, and the lessons trades teach about presence, growth, and resilience.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n![\"-\"](\"https:\/\/www.canadiancontractor.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/darren-headshot-posed-320x450.jpg\")
After 23 years in journalism, I thought I knew work\u2014how it shapes you, what it demands, what it teaches. But stepping away from the newsroom into the trades has shown me something else: work isn\u2019t always about skills. Sometimes, it\u2019s about what it reveals inside you.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n