Welcome to our backyard. Meet our patio and its corresponding dirt hole.
This spring our patio had a problem. So we fixed it. We (and by “we,” I, of course, mean “he”) rented an earsplitting, diamond-toothed contraption to dissect our concrete pad. It took a week and a lot of brute strength, but by the end we had successfully eliminated the rushing river that flowed toward our foundation during a rainstorm, replacing it with 10 foot square, 6 inch deep pond that now collects a few inches away instead.
Hey, baby steps, right? We figured we’d get some topsoil, grow some grass, insert a trail of stepping stones, and voila, a beautifully completed backyard.
Or at least that’s what we thought in the spring.
But now it’s turning fall, and we’re still working in the dirt.
And so it’s fair to say that this has become our “summer of the dirt hole.”
I’m sure our neighbors are just thrilled by our dirt hole, and I’m certain our friends are totally uncomfortable with it. I’m convinced our students will twist an ankle because of our dirt hole, and I’m positive I don’t want to know what the kids will do in it.
At least that’s what I’ve been thinking.
Those have been my solid reasons not to host this summer.
Reasons that I have ignored completely.
Because right now, this is what we have. We have a dirt hole. A 50 cubic foot hole situated in an otherwise perfectly usable backyard. And sometimes, despite a pile of good reasons, you just have to do stuff anyway.
You have to move anyway. You have to act anyway. You have to live anyway.
Or you’ll miss out on all the good stuff.
And don’t you know, this summer our students turned out to be astonishingly spry, and our friends, lovingly oblivious. The kids enjoyed our dirt hole as their sandbox, and our neighbors? Well, I guess we might still owe them some cookies. But nonetheless, this week may you choose to live anyway. Despite the dirt holes and your piles of reasons, may you do your thing and be filled to the brim with all the good stuff.