After 23 years in journalism, I thought I knew work—how 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’t always about skills. Sometimes, it’s about what it reveals inside you.

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—a reminder that this passage isn’t wide or easy, but built to carry weight.

Bridges symbolize an opportunity. It’s not just crossing water. It’s a step into something new, a leap toward potential I haven’t met yet.

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’t require much skill. But that’s not what matters. What matters is showing up, carrying the fire inside, and being willing to keep crossing even when the other side isn’t clear.

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 – a little more than 10 feet long and takes two people to move into place – that enables the shape of the flashing on houses. On paper, it sounds simple. In practice, I’ve made plenty of mistakes — asymmetrical wood pieces, warped metal, crooked trim, and me fumbling with every step. I look foolish, but I keep at it.

There’s a saying in the trades: “time on tools” is how you get better. That’s true. But the best lessons don’t come from doing it right. They come from doing it wrong — again and again — until your hands remember before your mind does.

Mistakes aren’t just part of learning. They’re the foundation of growth. Persistence doesn’t come from success. It comes from failing and pushing through. Real achievement isn’t getting it right the first time — it’s working through the awkwardness and doubt that come with looking foolish.

Failure is the lesson

But it’s not just about mistakes. It’s where you make them that counts. Growth needs a place where you’re safe to fail. Mr. Rogers said it best: “When you need help, look for the helpers.” On a construction site, that couldn’t 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’t expected — only effort.

Even when a job feels done, it often isn’t. Things change. Expectations shift. Mistakes show up. So you go back, fix it, adjust. The work doesn’t end. And neither does the learning.

In many ways, this new path feels like crossing a bridge while still building it — one uncertain step at a time, not sure if it’ll hold. Some days I move forward with confidence. Others, I stumble and wonder if I belong here at all. But progress isn’t 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.

That confidence doesn’t come from getting it right. It comes from being willing to look foolish, to try again, and to be surrounded by people who don’t just tolerate mistakes — they welcome them.

Like the Peter Overington Bridge I cross each morning, this chapter isn’t about reaching a perfect destination. It’s about having the courage to span the unknown — with help, humility, and heart.

Columnist’s 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.