Rev. Ted Huffman

Somewhere short of perfection

Steve Van Dam has been building one-of-a-kind custom wooden motorboats in his Boyne City, Michigan shop for over 30 years. His boats are often improvements of classic designs, equipped with modern engines and the latest in electronics. The boats themselves, however, are completely hand built from raw lumber. Each component of the wooden boats is milled, cut, planed, and fitted by hand. Some of the finest craftsmen in the United States are employed by Van Dam. A typical hull might have three layers of wood glued up for optimal strength. Two layers of cedar with the grain running at right angles followed by a layer of African mahogany with each piece carefully fitted. All of the metal components are custom made and fitted in the Van Dam shops as are the custom interiors and upholstery.

They don’t produce many boats each year and the boats they produce are strictly high-end.

The goal is perfection in every step of the process, from selecting the woods to applying up to 12 coats of varnish before polishing to a mirror finish.

Before being delivered to the customer, the Van Dam team all participate in water tests of each boat. Designer Michel Berryer, project leader Ben Van Dam and CEO Steve Van Dam all can be seen putting a sparkling new boat through its paces.

Steve reports that there are at least three major sensations that accompany each boat delivery: First of all there is a definite sense of relief. The boat has been completed. The expectations of the customer have been exceeded. Secondly, there is a sense of pride. The Van Dam team does exceptional work - the kind of work that perhaps no other manufacturer can match. And finally, there is a sense of self-criticism. No matter how much work is invested, no matter how much the customer is delighted, the real experts of Van Dam Boats are able to recognize tiny flaws in their boats. Each boat has things about it that they would have done differently. Each boat is a lesson in how to build a better boat.

Despite the frequent use of the word “perfection” at Van Dam boats, no boat is perfect. There is always something that could have been done better.

Of course, I am not in the league with the Van Dam boatbuilders. I have a garage and not a factory. I am not able to purchase wood in large quantities directly from the sawmills. I don’t own commercial saws and planers. I am not able to work at my boats full time. And I make a lot of mistakes that the folks who do this full time for a living avoid.

The difference, however, between a good and serviceable boat and a truly beautiful boat in the league in which I build is the patience that the builder devotes to correcting mistakes. When the glue has dried and I recognize a small gap in the fit of a plank, I have several options. I can ignore the gap. The fiberglass will provide sufficient strength to make the boat serviceable. I can fill the gap with a mixture of wood flour and epoxy. If I use sawdust from the same type and color of wood the filler will not be very visible. I can also cut and fit a new piece of wood to fill the gap. Sometimes this means cutting out part of the wood already glued in place. Sometimes this means fitting a new sliver of wood into the gap and sanding everything smooth.

When I get done I will be able to see the flaw, but it will be hidden from casual observers.

In life there are mistakes that can be avoided. And experience can be a great teacher in that regard. There are plenty of mistakes that I made as a young and inexperienced minister that do not need to be repeated. The same applies to my avocation. I once left a whetstone soaking in water overnight in cold temperatures and the water froze and broke the stone. I have no need to ever repeat that process. One evening I walked away from a boat with curing epoxy and then let the cat into the garage. A rather unattractive hair cut for the cat and several hours of sanding later, I was smart enough not to repeat that set of circumstances.

But there are also mistakes that get made despite our best efforts. I can proofread a document multiple times and get others to do the same and a mistake will still emerge when the printing is done. I can memorize perfectly a poem or passage of scripture and still get the words in the wrong order. On more than one occasion I have left part of a sermon out of a worship service because of a failure of memory.

Unlike Steve Van Dam, however, I don’t use the word perfection. I don’t even make it my goal. I am reminded of the stories that are told of “humility blocks” that are crafted into quilts. The legend is that some quilters would put a deliberate error into their handwork, perhaps a block turned sideways or a mismatched color in one place. The legend is that since only God is perfect, making a perfect quilt is prideful. Some stories attribute such actions to Amish quilters. The legend, however, is at least exaggerated. I don’t think that Amish quilters have to put intentional mistakes into their quilts. They are hand made. Enough mistakes occur in the process without the need of making them “on purpose.” On the contrary, a quilter strives to do her best with every quilt and avoid every mistake that can be avoided knowing that she is human and that some mistakes will occur. And every mistake that is discovered will be corrected. Expert quilters do a fair amount of ripping out stitches and re-doing work.

I don’t have to worry about approaching perfection. But I can take time to correct the mistakes as I see them. The finished product won’t be perfect.

My goal is to do the best I can with the time I am given.

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