This winter has been a banner season for the dogs digging holes in the yard. With no grass to slow them down, they’ve taken to excavation like they’re auditioning for a canine episode of Gold Rush. They dig with abandon—pure, unfiltered joy. They’ve discovered a corner of the yard where two fences meet, a natural low spot that practically whispers, “Come on boys… dig here.” And they have obeyed that whisper with religious devotion.
Their digging has become a daily game: they dig, and I fill. They dig again, and I fill again. It’s our own little liturgy of futility. The hole is impressive—honestly, at this point I think the city should consider it for historical landmark status. They’ve even tunneled under the fencepost. Every day I stand there with my shovel, muttering, “Surely this time I’ve filled it,” and every day the dogs look back at me like, “Bless your heart.”
The other day, while filling the hole for the 47th time (give or take), I noticed it seemed to stretch out into the field behind the house. That was odd. I tried to imagine the position the dog must have been in to dig beyond the fence—some kind of canine yoga pose, no doubt.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I walked around to the other side. And there it was: a matching hole. My dogs weren’t just digging a hole—they were digging a two-sided hole. A collaborative, multi-campus excavation project. Most dogs dig under a fence to escape the yard. Mine? They dig under the fence and then keep digging on the other side, not to escape, but because the hole itself is the joy. They could have run free, explored the world, chased squirrels in new zip codes… but no. They stayed focused on digging the best hole ever dug in that backyard.
They are on a perfect hole-digging mission.
And it makes me wonder: what about your life? Do you have that kind of focus and tenacity as you try to live out your purpose?
Or—and let’s be honest here—are you more like the rest of us, digging a hole on one side of the fence, then walking around and digging the same hole from the other side? We don’t always need help escaping our problems. Sometimes we need help stopping the digging.
That raises the real question: what is your purpose in living? There’s a place called the church, and on Sunday mornings we help you wrestle with that question. We help you find direction, hope, and meaning. And yes—many times—we help you climb out of the very hole you’ve dug for yourself.
Because unlike my dogs, you don’t have to keep digging. You really can step into a bigger world.
And we’d love to help you do it.
