Hold your vision.

This is a point made via Storytime.

I'm almost done with my renovation save two major things and interior design.

For those of you who speak Renovation, you laughed, rightfully so.

“‘Almost done’, she said! Hahahaha!”

True ‘nuff.

But…um…well, she said haughtily, if you knew the state of the house when I bought it, you'd be like, “Well done!” or “Wow!” or “This looks good!”

True ‘nuff.

One of the things that took three years to deal with was the landscaping. So many tires to throw away. So many car engines. So many wires.

So many tires.

Many, many wires.

Why so many wires and tires?

Anyway, parts of my renovations are covered by grants, which brings contractors to the yard, uh, literally.

And that's when my feelings got hurt.

Since I was at the beginning of the process, the yard really did look like a jungle. It was objectively…b.a.d.

But I knew exactly what to do—I knew where the debris was and how to remove it, thus revealing such and such herbs and such and such flowers growing naturally. If I cut this bush and that branch, light comes in and that’s where the sunflowers can grow. This tree in the middle of the yard? That's a mulberry tree that fruits every year. A good branch trim and this puppy will be fruiting for many years.

I didn't and never saw jungle. All I saw was possibility.

The contractors, ummm….not so much.

No matter how clearly I explained, they just didn’t see, and, in a couple of cases, totally said they didn’t want to bother seeing it (they s.a.i d. that)(why be a contractor, then?). And clearly, based on the comments under their breath and to my face, they didn't Believe.

What about this run-down fence?, one scoffed. (One guy pushed it, earning the ire of the project leader).

The scoffing hurt. Was that necessary? No.

But I answered authoritatively, I have all materials for the new fence. But we need to trim the trees. If you look up, the tree branches are intertwined with the electrical wires, yielding our task unsafe. When we called DTE, they put us on the list, but it will take a second because they are still dealing with the emergency in northern Michigan, and that level of equipment is necessary for this job. They have to wait until the natural disaster is handled. Once all of that is done, it’ll be gorgeous.

Blank. Looks.

Blank, y'all.

For a few weeks, I compared my house and yard to everyone else's and started feeling down on myself. I wondered how I got stuck with this house with no means to get it tiptop within 52 minutes like on HGTV. Did I make a mistake? I mean, I knew I hadn't (the math shows me so, as well as me loving my house and neighbors makes me sure I did Good), but it's that Ole Doubt Cloud floating in on its high horse or whatever.

And then my friend E said, Drive around your neighborhood and clock the changes since you moved there.

And there are many. Almost all good.

She then had me do a tour of my own house, remembering where I got this item or how I made that thing and so on. What did it take to get this far?

It took nearly five years, untold number of trash bags, gallons of bleach, many squirrel-filled nights, unexpected porch encounters with dogs, a possum, and a raccoon, and relationship-building with ten of the neighbors’ cats, as well as the neighbors.

I remembered why I bought this house in particular—it feels like a castle. And it many ways it is—brick, with solid foundation, room to plan and have a garden. (Did castles have gardens?)

And then she reminded me that comparison is the thief of joy. Your journey is the envy of others while you're standing there lamenting it.

It was then, finally and forever, that it sunk in that some people will see what they wanna see until they see what they wanna see, no matter how clearly you've planned, sketched out, explained, blueprinted, and lesson planned.

This includes myself, if I'm careful.

Some people just can't see Vision. Innovation. Possibility.

Do it anyway. Don't feel the need to explain. The ones who get it will get it.

If it's really creative and new, no one will get it until after it's created and even then you'll get naysayers. Do it anyway.

It might take a long time. Here's the thjng—the time will pass anyway, so if you diligently work consistently, even if it's only a little bit (like my garden that i worked on every single warm day for three years tossing out garbage and planting and weeding and ignoring insults about), The Thing will get done.

To wit…

Guess what's growing in my yard?

I am able to grow ranunculous, freesia and sunflowers.

The daffodils will be coming in momentarily. I planted them late.

DTE confirmed that they are getting to me; they’re just backlogged. Mr. Handyman is standing at the ready to finish the fence. The design is my style, exactly. It'll be beautiful and functional.

This whole story applies to most things.

Stick to the vision.

Your play or opera or symphony might be an abject mess right now to others, but if you know exactly what to do to mold it into your voice, to bring the Pizazz out, to create the masterpiece, then do the thing with confidence all the way.

We teach this.