I just received my April’s Musing and Mumblings from Denise Linn. I felt compelled to share this story with my readers because it’s about following your dreams.  There are so many individuals out there who go through the motions of life with their dreams nestled far in the back of their brains.

 I’m not sure if you are aware of Denise’s story or calling but she is truly an inspiration to me.  I hope that Denise will not mind if I share this with you on my blog, but I’m sure she will tell me if I’ve gone off the beaten path of justice.

“I cradled the steaming cup of tea in my hands as I sat with my friend Ann. We were peering outside at the bleak Seattle January sky. There had been a snowstorm the week before, but now there were only patches of dirty snow dotting an otherwise muddy cityscape.

“Want to go for a walk?” Ann chirped.

“Not really,” I replied. Even though, at the time I’d lived in Seattle for many years, I still wasn’t accustomed to the gray dampness of winter. The city’s cold dreariness invaded every part of me and refused to let go until the cherry trees were in full bloom.

“Oh, come on!” she urged me, getting ready to go out. Out of obligation, I put on my coat and trailed after her. While I trudged along, my friend skipped ahead. Then she whipped around and said, “I know—let’s make a snow dragon!”

“What are you talking about? There’s barely enough to even make a snowball . . . and it’s dirty,” I said with disgust written all over my face.

“Don’t you see, Denise? We’re going to build a huge snow dragon right here!”

It couldn’t have been more preposterous: We were standing on the side of a busy street with cars zooming by and muddied water being splashed everywhere. To make matters worse, the patches of snow around us were stained yellow and brown with what remained of the neighborhood dogs’ territorial markings.

How could Ann even think that we could build a snow creature here . . . and why would we want to? I thought as I shivered and observed her bunch up a handful of snow to pack it into a ball.

While I stood by and watched, my friend rolled the snowball on the ground to increase its girth. She didn’t seem to notice that it was lifting up big pieces of dog poop, but rather just kept rolling the snow into an increasingly larger ball. “Come on and help me!” she exclaimed.

I nodded, hardly believing that I was about to take part in this nonsense, and got down on the ground to help her push the growing snowball (all the while trying to avoid touching the yellow and brown parts). We rolled and rolled it, until finally Ann looked up at me and urgently exclaimed, “Denise, it’s getting dark, but I can’t stop. You’ve got to go back to the house and call the media! Get the TV and radio stations and the newspapers! Everyone’s going to want to hear about this snow dragon!” she shouted with enthusiasm.

She’s gone crazy, I thought. All I could see was a 20-inch, feces-covered ball of dirty snow. “I’ve really gotta go home, Ann. It’s getting late and I’m cold,” I told her as I walked away.

“Don’t forget to call the newspapers!” she hollered back. I made some noncommittal sound, but I had no intention of calling anyone.

“Don’t forget!” she yelled again, just as I was rounding the corner. The streetlights had flickered on, and as I looked back, I could see my friend working valiantly, scrambling to find more snow for her so-called masterpiece. Clearly, I was the sensible one.

The following morning, I was drinking tea and as I unfolded the morning newspaper, I almost choked. On the front page of the largest metropolitan newspaper was a big photo of Ann, standing next to a six-foot snow dragon. It was beautiful—the tail gracefully curled around the body; and the long, thin neck supported a slightly ferocious-looking head. The article stated that a Seattle Times photographer had been on his way home from work when he saw Ann under the streetlight, putting the finishing touches on her snow dragon. Even though it was late (because she’d worked into the night), he’d grabbed his camera, taken the shot, and returned to the paper to get the story in.

I was dumbfounded. I’d never seen it coming—I’d had absolutely no faith in her crazy plan, but my friend had believed in it. Ann hadn’t made any calls to the media; nevertheless, she believed so fervently that her dragon was newsworthy that she wasn’t at all surprised when the photographer came by. In fact, she’d assumed that I’d sent him!

You see, as we both looked at the ground of the same street corner, I’d seen only dirty snow while she’d seen the makings of a beautiful creature. To her, the dragon was already a reality—he was magnificent even before she’d molded the first handful of snow. She believed in her dragon so much that her energy unfurled into the chilly night air and actually magnetized the photographer to her. This is the way a powerful intention works.

Now whenever someone tells me their dream—no matter how outlandish or improbable it may seem to me at the time—I remember Ann’s snow dragon. I know that almost nothing is impossible if someone really believes in it.

If you have a Big Dream:

  • Believe in it with your whole heart and it’s more likely to happen.
  • Don’t let anyone talk you out of your dream. Spend time with people that believe in you and your dreams.
  • Act as if your dream has already happened. (Ann wanted me to call the television stations because, in her mind, it was already complete.)

Remember the snow dragon.”

Thanks Denise, this made my day and for another day, I still believe that my dreams will happen. 

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