NOT A GREAT DANE

We hold ourselves and others in this rigid place of sameness, so much that when the shift begins, the discomfort is nearly unbearable.

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If I were to create an alternate headline for this post it would read:

Random Thoughts on Shifting Perspective.

Because some events—big and small, hard and beautiful—change everything.

He doesn’t yet have a name. After four days with his long muzzle and grey/green eyes pressed against my cheek, I am still waiting for him to tell me who he is. Gabriel did. So did Morgan and Griffin, Graham and Poet. But getting to know someone takes time and more than a little investment. Enter my sleepless nights.

Those sleepless nights. Riddled with little arbitrary puppy whines and invasive thoughts that meander to difficult, sometimes uncomfortable places, but never ever without growth of some notable kind.

I am in the season of challenging my thinking about so many things. Danes included. But not necessarily at the top of the list.

For those who have known me over the span of twenty-four homes in need of a little nurture of their own, the idea of shifting from a Dane is probably unthinkable.

In response, let me share that I no longer hold myself or others too tightly to some formulaic definition. To do this would align with the belief that people never change. But I have seen the profound “otherwise,” experienced the life-saving fruit that comes from allowing myself and others to iterate.

I have written of how I once said “never ever” to allowing chemotherapy to be a part of my world. And then cancer came. Over the four years that I have thrived with a disease that we all fear over nearly every other, I have learned a thing or two about proactively saving my own life. But in those early days, when “You have Stage IV Uterine Cancer” was spoken over me and “Chemotherapy is the only way,” was the phrase that layered over every other thought, I was less educated, more reactionary and afraid.

Am I saying I would have done it differently? I am decidedly not. For me, chemotherapy was the time-giver that slowed down the process of dissent, allowing me to gather my thoughts…and information…to organize my next steps.

Had I not been willing to shift my strong opinion about a sometimes life-saving drug, it is very possible [without overstating] that I wouldn’t be writing this today.

Which brings me back to Great Danes—

What thinking have you held so tightly to that it defines you, to the degree that you have stopped allowing yourself to grow?

Read that again.

When we hold ourselves [and others] to a strict prescription of the way life ‘is’ or ‘is supposed to be’ we fail to measure all the bold and subtle promptings deliberately and Divinely sent to us with intention of pushing us to become something or someone we don’t already know or even expect.

In that spirit, and with a new puppy as my illustration, let me introduce you to a Janene you may not already know—

One that dares to open her heart to the possibilities that the unknown brings.

The unknown. Such terrifying territory for those who insist on defining and directing life to the finest detail—

We’ve all camped in terrifying territory in very recent days.

Of all the things I don’t know, there is one credence that is a constant—

Hard is not only inevitable, but the only way to experience transformative power in our lives.

When we avoid what discomforts and disquiets, we fail to ever truly understand what we are capable of creating, enduring, overcoming, even transcending.

Here is the marvel that transpired within this bring-home-puppy week—

Not that a head turned at the exact right moment. But despite the miraculous, blood was still ‘allowed’ to be shed.

Have we missed that the pain is necessary? Have we missed that to understand the deepest mystery of our collective selves there are pieces of who we are that must depart?

Stated in the very simplest terms—What are you willing to give up to learn more about who you really are?

Have you held too tightly to the mantras you have created about your own self?

Have you, at one point or another, allowed the opinions of others to define and direct your life?

Have you, out of fear of pain or failure, begun to restrict a hope for a more abundant future?

Have you begun to believe the excuses [masked as stories] you tell?

Have you refused to consider an ‘other’ perspective because to do so would take away [in some way] from who you are?

Have you cultivated such a carefully defined persona that you are unable to interact authentically with the world?

Have you begun to overly admire the caricature you’ve created of yourself?

Have you judged yourself and others based upon the beliefs and actions of an ‘unacceptable’ past?

“Chemotherapy is evil.”

“I am a Great Dane girl.”

There are so many other and more important mantras I have adopted that haven’t served me. These are just the most-recent and most-illustrative two.

What are the mantras that are no longer serving you?

To hold others and ourselves to an impossible standard.

To judge and condemn based upon the stories of the past.

 These are the attitudes that paralyze,

These are what render us power-less.

If I any right to give you permission, then consider this your green light.

Step boldly into a fresh iteration of this extraordinary life.

And if you’re wondering how all of this intertwines, consider my mission for writing this Journal in the notes below*. Because I love you.

NOTES:

This week I stepped boldly into the realm of the Irish Wolfhound, leaving behind [at least for now] the Great Dane. After owning seven Danes over the better part of my life, this decision did not come lightly. In fact, I agonized.

There are so many other [much more] important things to agonize over, going on in the world. Yet, as my Journal mission states, *these are a collection of love letters to my readers, capturing all the hard and beautiful moments that intersect yours.

I need to tell you that the events of the past several days have brought a deep concern I haven’t felt in four years—that is, to receive the kind of shocking news that brings you to your knees and makes you evaluate everything you believe.

Do I over-analyze? Perhaps. But better this than to turn away.

In the midst of it all, my “not a Great Dane’ puppy came home. And I think, in so many ways, he represents a kind of sweetness we all need.

ABOUT THE IMAGE: This is the minute I met the latest member of our family, an Irish Wolfhound breed. After vetting breeders and their puppies for several weeks, I landed on his litter, finding him in Missouri and choosing him out of dozens of other little furry options across the country.

There is more to this story…

Amid abundant back and forth conversations with the breeder about every little puppy thing she suddenly remarked, “I just realized…you are THE Janene Kraft. I have been reading your blog for years!”

If you, like me, search for affirmations, you’ll understand when I share, this was mine. And so, my little man with no name became part of the Kraft family this past Monday, and we are not the same.

P.S. I promise I’ll let you know as soon as he’s told me his name.