08/01/2025
I don't know how many times over the years someone has said "Oh, you have a sanctuary?! That's my dream!" and then they proceed to tell me how they would love to be able to stay home, play with dogs, dress them up, watch movies with them, take them on trips. I am not responsible for what my face does in those moments.
Having a sanctuary is not a "dream." It is a calling. It is what lies deep in your bones, deeper even than where your heart sits. It is something that you were meant to do. Why you are here. Who you are. Having a sanctuary is full of much good, joy, happiness, smiles. But the reality is something most cannot understand, and even more could not handle. It is hard, physical labor every day, sometimes for 18 hours a day, in every kind of weather, without fail. Your idea of a "break" is that you sit down for five minutes to eat lunch instead of eating while standing doing other chores. Having a sanctuary means there are no vacations. There are no trips, no days off, no breaks. You will miss EVERY event, from reunions to weddings to birthdays to funerals. You will sacrifice everything you need to make sure they have everything they deserve. And you will do that 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year, and if you are lucky, for decades. Your body will start to give out long before your drive does. But you don't know the word "quit" so you will keep going, pushing through every type of pain. You will fall, spraining your ankle to the point your whole foot turns black. But you will get right back up, and keep going. Because that is who you are.
You will learn to take pride in different things. It will not be what you drive, where you have been, what you have. It will be how they have blossomed, healed, relaxed, laid in the shade without fear. It will be that they took a treat from your hand without flinching. It will be that their ribs no longer show, that their open wounds have healed. And while people boast about trips abroad, you will smile inside, because you don't need to leave your house to find true happiness.
Sometimes, having a sanctuary means that you are up after 3 hours of sleep, so that you can dig a hole in the July sun because there is no longer a cremation service that will pick them up. A hole where you can lay your boy to rest with dignity and love. You will dig that hole with two bad hands and a bad knee, and you will tell him how special he was while you put the dirt back in. You will put a handmade beaded marker that you sat and made at 2am one night, and you will watch your other half carefully select a special rock to place there after he gets home from working since 5:15am to try and supply everything they need.
Sometimes, having a sanctuary means that you have to dig a hole with a half-broken shovel, wearing a boot that is split on the bottom and keeps catching on the shovel. But you will do it, and if you had your life to do over, you would not change anything.
