....or Stories Part Three
As you may know, one of my favorite authors answers to the name of Donald Miller. I recently read his blog and noticed a 'contest' of sorts involving blog entries and an opportunity to attend a Living a Better Story Seminar. The Seminar just happens to be in Portland over my school's Fair Break (yes, we get the week off for the County Fair...Yee-haw). So I figured, what the heck? This is, my entry of sorts.
I typed parts One and Two of this specific "blog series" before I even THOUGHT about submitting all this as an entry for Portland. If you have the time and energy and desire, feel free to scroll back to the past two days.
If not, that's totally cool.
If My Dream or my "better story" was a novel, This is the Cliffs Notes. (These ARE the Cliffs Notes)?
In an attempt to Live a Great Story, my husband and I dream about using his family's farmland to build a house along with a building that would house dogs in need. I want to make this very clear. This "building" would be an extension of our house. It would NOT be a glorified shelter.
We'd like to make our property, this building and its canine inhabitants available to people who are suffering. Some examples would be children with disabilities or diseases, senior citizens, you get the point.One can find great comfort in sunshine, the outdoors and well, some doggie cuddlin.'
Another way we'd like to use the space is to host parties for people in need, specifically children. We are all children of God, and deserve to be celebrated for that fact alone. No child should miss out on that opportunity, no matter how great the need, how deep the illness or how empty the pocketbook. The idea would be to use the space we have to host parties for children who are having birthdays, grandmas who have turned 100, Aunts who have finally beat cancer, etc. at no cost to those attending.
We would like to be in the dog rescuing, party planning business, and if there's any more fantastic dream then we haven't found it.
In Don's book, he explains that every character in a story encounters a conflict, if not many. I think the biggest part of our conflict is the lack of connections we have with people who have, so to speak, gone before us. We need to be connected with people who know how to do THIS. We need people who have (figuratively) started with 10 acres of empty land and built The Park. We need our paths to cross. I think that is the most important part of creating this story. I think if we can find the people who have the heart, that discovery will lead us to the people who have the know-how. I think this seminar will do that.
You know, being a teacher, I am a sucker for following directions. The directions say, "Be specific." Sometimes, I am tempted to be all wide-eyed and dreamy and tell you that it will be easy and fun and it will all work out and if you bring up the hard stuff then you are being a jerkface, but the truth is...this will be hard. I know. To open a large dog park where sad people and sad dogs can come and play next to a 'farm' where we can host FREE parties for people who really need a party is a big undertaking.
We are standing in a playground of conflict.
We will need insurance papers and legal-stuff (oh, will we need legal stuff). We will need money because let's face it, dogs are expensive. Everyone will need shots (ok, mostly just the dogs will need them) ...behavior training...fencing...extra funding in case one of our dogs ends up having special needs...people who will care for the dogs in case we get sick or take a vacation...a building that is heated and cooled and EASY TO KEEP CLEAN...party favors...a driveway that could double as a parking lot...a marketing strategy so people will know where to come if they need a free party or to pet an old dog...did I mention cake?
And we need approximately 2,000 balloons, 100 boxes of birthday cake mix, and 5 gazillion pounds of kibbles -n-bits with a side of flea powder. Thanks a bunch. See you in Portland...?
Well, either way, we just may get our Dog Farm. Or maybe we'll just spring for another dog...or a baby.
Just kidding.
Love and random contest entries,
H.
Oh yea, and this is my friend (I wish), Donald Miller. I am hoping that if I tell you to read his book enough then eventually, he'll find out and really will be my friend.
Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.
Showing posts with label My Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Story. Show all posts
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Stories, Part Two.
So, you've come back for more, eh?
Thank you.
If you have not read Part One of this series, you might want to. If not, here's the recap. You know how I like my recaps.
1.) Tim and I are tossing around the idea of building a house on his family's farmland
2.) I read a book about making your life full of Great Stories that sort of changed my life
3.) I came to believe that neglected dogs are a microcosm that represents everything that is wrong and evil in the world.
After I cried in Petsmart, I started thinking about The Devil. That's right. The Devil. I started thinking about how crummy it is that he sets out everyday to ruin the things that God has created (i.e. dogs who love their freedom). Then all these great Bible Marbles started rolling around in my head (Bible marbles?). I remembered that basically, The Bible says if we accept grace and love and God's hand in our lives, then we will find lots of peace and comfort and joy. With God on our side, nothing is ever truly ruined.
God can take Satan's sucker punch and turn it into a pat on the back.
I hummed one of my favorite J.J. Heller lines,
"I know you hate to see me cry, but one day you will make all things right."
So I said to myself, "Self, maybe the fact that someone cared enough to take these dogs in and help them is evidence that there is still a lot right going on in the world. Maybe it is all about our perspective."
And then I felt better.
So, with that being said...
My Our Dream...is to use the land to build a Dog Farm. That's right. A DOG FARM.
My parents' best friends used to live in a an old farmhouse, old barn included. The husband runs a business (quite successfully) that specializes in computers. They remodeled part of their barn so that he could have his own office. Although they've moved since then, I remember a desk and a television and lots of chairs and couches. It became a barn/office/makeshift playroom.
And the wheels started turning.
How amazing would it be to build our house and build a 'barn' with tile and 'kennels' and couches and dog beds and air conditioning and lots and lots of windows?
My dream, MY DREAM is to walk into Petsmart on adopt-a-dog-day, take one look at the cages full of 'old' dogs, wave my hand like a fairy dog-mother and boldly declare,
"Clear em' out!"
Then, we would all pile into our old SUV and go home.
We would go home.
Instead of spending our August Saturdays staring at each other through black metal cages, we would lay on the cool tile in the office/playroom/dog barn, eating ice cubes and watching re runs of property ladder.
We would use all The Land as a make-shift dog park. Children with disabilities or tiny backyards or parents with allergies...children who simply can't have dogs could come and play. "The Park" would also be open to anyone who was generally having a bad day. I find that dogs tend to help with bad day-ishness. I trust that somewhere, it's been scientifically proven.
Every dog would get bowls of turkey on Thanksgiving and treat bags at Christmas.
We would also use The Land to have parties for underprivileged children or kids who have finally beat cancer or grandparents who have just turned 100 at no cost to those in need. There would be a slip and slide or snowman building (depending on the weather) along with pretty table cloths and lots of balloons.
I would write. I would write articles and books and stories and anything I could get down on paper. We would give the dogs names like Ruby and Dodger and Bandit, and people would come to know them because of all the writing. They would send them cards and ask for photos and come to celebrate their birthdays. Their story would be come our story and vice versa, and life would be good.
We would be home.
Love and everything else,
H.
photo source, unknown-please comment if you find it
Thank you.
If you have not read Part One of this series, you might want to. If not, here's the recap. You know how I like my recaps.
1.) Tim and I are tossing around the idea of building a house on his family's farmland
2.) I read a book about making your life full of Great Stories that sort of changed my life
3.) I came to believe that neglected dogs are a microcosm that represents everything that is wrong and evil in the world.
After I cried in Petsmart, I started thinking about The Devil. That's right. The Devil. I started thinking about how crummy it is that he sets out everyday to ruin the things that God has created (i.e. dogs who love their freedom). Then all these great Bible Marbles started rolling around in my head (Bible marbles?). I remembered that basically, The Bible says if we accept grace and love and God's hand in our lives, then we will find lots of peace and comfort and joy. With God on our side, nothing is ever truly ruined.
God can take Satan's sucker punch and turn it into a pat on the back.
I hummed one of my favorite J.J. Heller lines,
"I know you hate to see me cry, but one day you will make all things right."
So I said to myself, "Self, maybe the fact that someone cared enough to take these dogs in and help them is evidence that there is still a lot right going on in the world. Maybe it is all about our perspective."
And then I felt better.
So, with that being said...
My parents' best friends used to live in a an old farmhouse, old barn included. The husband runs a business (quite successfully) that specializes in computers. They remodeled part of their barn so that he could have his own office. Although they've moved since then, I remember a desk and a television and lots of chairs and couches. It became a barn/office/makeshift playroom.
And the wheels started turning.
How amazing would it be to build our house and build a 'barn' with tile and 'kennels' and couches and dog beds and air conditioning and lots and lots of windows?
My dream, MY DREAM is to walk into Petsmart on adopt-a-dog-day, take one look at the cages full of 'old' dogs, wave my hand like a fairy dog-mother and boldly declare,
"Clear em' out!"
Then, we would all pile into our old SUV and go home.
We would go home.
Instead of spending our August Saturdays staring at each other through black metal cages, we would lay on the cool tile in the office/playroom/dog barn, eating ice cubes and watching re runs of property ladder.
We would use all The Land as a make-shift dog park. Children with disabilities or tiny backyards or parents with allergies...children who simply can't have dogs could come and play. "The Park" would also be open to anyone who was generally having a bad day. I find that dogs tend to help with bad day-ishness. I trust that somewhere, it's been scientifically proven.
Every dog would get bowls of turkey on Thanksgiving and treat bags at Christmas.
We would also use The Land to have parties for underprivileged children or kids who have finally beat cancer or grandparents who have just turned 100 at no cost to those in need. There would be a slip and slide or snowman building (depending on the weather) along with pretty table cloths and lots of balloons.
I would write. I would write articles and books and stories and anything I could get down on paper. We would give the dogs names like Ruby and Dodger and Bandit, and people would come to know them because of all the writing. They would send them cards and ask for photos and come to celebrate their birthdays. Their story would be come our story and vice versa, and life would be good.
We would be home.
Love and everything else,
H.
photo source, unknown-please comment if you find it
Monday, August 16, 2010
Stories, Part One
This is a post about a story. The story is about dogs...kind of. Sometimes, I like to start out my posts by saying, "This is a post about..." so that way, you know exactly what you are getting yourselves into.
Still reading?
Thank you.
One of my favorite authors wrote a book about The Story he wants to write with his life. His name is Donald Miller and the book is called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. He is an excellent author. The book is good. The book is very good. I would tell you all about it, but that is another post entirely in itself. It is THAT good. You should read it. Seriously, take a sick day and read it, I won't tell.
This is a post I have been sitting on for a long time, but now that it is time to start writing, I don't quite know where to start.
((sigh))
Shortly after Tim and I started dating, I moved into a cozy, ivy-covered town house with one of my best pals. It was within walking distance of Starbucks. We had a Graeter's (best ice cream this side of the Mississippi). There were black eyed susans in the backyard. We were on the outskirts of a hussling, bussling city, and we liked it. Life was good.
When Tim and I started talking, I mean, Really Talking, he informed me that his family ownedsome land a lot of land in the teeniest tiniest town (where I grew up). He informed me that (someday) he wanted to build a house. I thought to myself,
"There is no way I am moving back to the country and building a house in the woods."
Instead, I nodded sweetly and added something generic like,
"That's cool."
Cause that's what we do in the beginning of relationships, right? We nod sweetly and agree to ridiculous things like building new/old farmhouses in towns with more chickens than people and no Starbucks.
Then we bought a house in the suburbs. We bought a house in the suburbs where the neighbors are rude and there is lots of traffic and the coffee is overpriced. Then I fell in love with Dogs and read Don Miller's book and started thinking about farmhouses and animals in need and writing good stories with my life.
And then I went to Petsmart. I went to Petsmart on Adopt-a-dog-day.
Still with me? Good.
The last time we were at Petsmart on Adopt-a-dog-day, we had to leave because I cried. I had never seen so many caged-in dogs...so many caged-in ADULT dogs. Usually, you see lots of puppies. The puppies are not sad because they lick you and they are adorable and they get homes easily.
Everyone wants a puppy.
You will be hard-pressed to find someone who wants a wild, full-grown, smelly, adult dog. That is like going to an orphanage and asking to adopt a Frat Boy. What's worse, is that all the dogs were barking. They were barking because they have known freedom. They have known freedom and they are smart enough to know that this is not it. Caged-in puppies aren't sad because they have never known freedom. A cage is a cage is a field is a park is a cage to them. They can't tell the difference.
So then I started thinking about how this is NOT what God intended when he created the world. I started thinking about how sometimes, it is the little things in the world that signify that something BIG and Important is amiss (like shoplifting and animal neglect and The Jersey Shore).
I started thinking about all those unwanted, neglected, adult dogs and how wrong that seemed.
And then I cried. so we left. The end.
Actually, that is not the end. That is not even really the beginning. Maybe it is the beginning of the beginning, but truth be told, I haven't had breakfast yet and I'm hungry and there is laundry just hanging out in the washing machine and I hate it when the laundry spoils (such a waste), so I must go for now.
There is more to The Story. If you are good and honest and kind to each other and you finish all your broccoli (try adding cheese, it helps), then I will tell you THE REST of The Story very soon. And give you extra recess.
So far, you know:
1.) Tim and I are tossing around the idea of building a house on his family's farmland
2.) I read a book about making your life full of Great Stories that sort of changed my life
3.) I came to believe that neglected dogs are a microcosm that represents everything that is wrong and evil in the world.
Love and S.A.T. words (microcosm?),
H.
Still reading?
Thank you.
One of my favorite authors wrote a book about The Story he wants to write with his life. His name is Donald Miller and the book is called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. He is an excellent author. The book is good. The book is very good. I would tell you all about it, but that is another post entirely in itself. It is THAT good. You should read it. Seriously, take a sick day and read it, I won't tell.
This is a post I have been sitting on for a long time, but now that it is time to start writing, I don't quite know where to start.
((sigh))
Shortly after Tim and I started dating, I moved into a cozy, ivy-covered town house with one of my best pals. It was within walking distance of Starbucks. We had a Graeter's (best ice cream this side of the Mississippi). There were black eyed susans in the backyard. We were on the outskirts of a hussling, bussling city, and we liked it. Life was good.
When Tim and I started talking, I mean, Really Talking, he informed me that his family owned
"There is no way I am moving back to the country and building a house in the woods."
Instead, I nodded sweetly and added something generic like,
"That's cool."
Cause that's what we do in the beginning of relationships, right? We nod sweetly and agree to ridiculous things like building new/old farmhouses in towns with more chickens than people and no Starbucks.
Then we bought a house in the suburbs. We bought a house in the suburbs where the neighbors are rude and there is lots of traffic and the coffee is overpriced. Then I fell in love with Dogs and read Don Miller's book and started thinking about farmhouses and animals in need and writing good stories with my life.
And then I went to Petsmart. I went to Petsmart on Adopt-a-dog-day.
Still with me? Good.
The last time we were at Petsmart on Adopt-a-dog-day, we had to leave because I cried. I had never seen so many caged-in dogs...so many caged-in ADULT dogs. Usually, you see lots of puppies. The puppies are not sad because they lick you and they are adorable and they get homes easily.
Everyone wants a puppy.
You will be hard-pressed to find someone who wants a wild, full-grown, smelly, adult dog. That is like going to an orphanage and asking to adopt a Frat Boy. What's worse, is that all the dogs were barking. They were barking because they have known freedom. They have known freedom and they are smart enough to know that this is not it. Caged-in puppies aren't sad because they have never known freedom. A cage is a cage is a field is a park is a cage to them. They can't tell the difference.
So then I started thinking about how this is NOT what God intended when he created the world. I started thinking about how sometimes, it is the little things in the world that signify that something BIG and Important is amiss (like shoplifting and animal neglect and The Jersey Shore).
I started thinking about all those unwanted, neglected, adult dogs and how wrong that seemed.
And then I cried. so we left. The end.
Actually, that is not the end. That is not even really the beginning. Maybe it is the beginning of the beginning, but truth be told, I haven't had breakfast yet and I'm hungry and there is laundry just hanging out in the washing machine and I hate it when the laundry spoils (such a waste), so I must go for now.
There is more to The Story. If you are good and honest and kind to each other and you finish all your broccoli (try adding cheese, it helps), then I will tell you THE REST of The Story very soon. And give you extra recess.
So far, you know:
1.) Tim and I are tossing around the idea of building a house on his family's farmland
2.) I read a book about making your life full of Great Stories that sort of changed my life
3.) I came to believe that neglected dogs are a microcosm that represents everything that is wrong and evil in the world.
Love and S.A.T. words (microcosm?),
H.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)