Sometimes, when I don’t understand someone’s behavior, there’s a message in it for me. Click to tweet.
My husband Rick had a vision. A goal. This past weekend, when his dream finally came true, I had an “aha” moment.
Because I have a vision too.
I want to become a novelist. I’ve had the dream for years.
Right now, I’m working on my fifth novel. Writing the first three taught me little bit about the craft, but my stories weren’t ready for publication. My agent is shopping my fourth one. At times–especially when I’m tired–I wonder if my dream will ever become a reality.
Two months ago during our porch party, Rick told me about his vision.
“I’ve ordered 40 baby chicks,” he said. “They’re coming next week.”
We already have 15 chickens in our backyard.
I stopped rocking and looked at him.”Why? We don’t have room for 40 more chickens.”
“Half of them are for a friend. And I’m expanding my chicken house.”
Although his dream didn’t make sense to me, I knew he’d work hard to make it happen. I could see it in his eyes.
He didn’t care how foolish he looked.
He didn’t care that most of our friends don’t raise chickens. He didn’t do it to please people.
The passion came from his heart.
His pen before the renovation–
First, he had a buddy of his cut down a dozen trees.
The trees became mulch to cover the ground near the pen.
Now he had room to work.
When his baby chicks arrived, some lived lived in a cage outdoors. Some lived in an aquarium in our basement.
If you’re thinking our home took on a new aroma, you’re exactly right.
The construction took several weeks.
I brought him bottles of Gatorade.
What motivates him to work this hard in the hundred degree weather?
To have his fingers torn up by chicken wire?
Did he ever feel like giving up–like I sometimes did?
Saturday afternoon, he came inside the house and opened the kitchen pantry. “I dug up a yellow jacket’s nest and got popped. Where’s the Benadryl?”
I looked into his dark brown eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
He led me to his work-in-progress. “This is my Rhode Island Red.”
“This is a Silver Leghorn. He didn’t have any hens.”
When I watched him feed his chickens, the answer settled in my heart.
“You’re doing this because you love them, and you want to make their lives better, right?”
He closed the gate to the new pen. ”Yeah, something like that.”
My husband’s love for chickens–and my love for you, dear reader–
Keep our dreams alive.
Do you have a vision? A goal? Does this post help you in any way? I hope so.
Julie (and Rick and our chickens too)