Do you ever feel like you’re living in the midst of a whirlwind?
That’s been our life since moving to the homestead a few short months ago. I had all the best plans of finally having time, space, and altitude to write more often. But among roofing, building, plumbing, electrical, and water projects, plus all the folks here helping us get them done, companioned with the joy of our three year old granddaughter here every weekend, peppered by an annoying computer glitch that prevents me posting new photos to the blog, I’ve been seriously neglecting you and I’m sorry! But the storm can’t last forever : )
Record rains broken by a bit of snow have had me digging trenches to encourage the run-off to go around instead of through our barn, meat salon, and mud room. We’re tired, sporadically overwhelmed , and regularly cranky. It’s all taking longer than planned. Of course! BUT…
There have been wonderful new adventures. Like adopting three adorable cats and learning to brew kombucha in a wooden keg. We’re in the middle of transforming an old building into our laundrey-bath-meat-salon, adding a mudroom onto the side of our trailer, and learning the art of managing water, dishes, laundry, garbage, and sewer, homesteading in a 5th wheel in winter at the end of two miles of private rocky road.
Struggling with fear, unplanned expenses, do-overs, mice, frozen hoses, and having to use a porta-potty.
Learning to embrace PROCESS, rather than striving only for the end goal.
Opening to the accomplishment of waiting, instead of festering about not arriving on time.
Discovering how to stay yoked together, in the midst of resurrecting a dream.
Daring to expect the good, abandoning the habit of bracing for bad.
Stretching the limits of belief, strength, resources, and daylight hours.
I’m grateful for winter’s bridge between us and spring when we’ll add chickens, pigs, and goats. Plant the new garden, grapes, and trees. And rebuild fences to protect all those things.
We must remind ourselves to enjoy the truth; that after 40 years waiting for it, we’re finally living our dream. Even though it’s really hard.
Yet things just keep working out. In ways we didn’t expect. And that gives us reason to hope that way will continue to be made.
So from the midst of a world swirled white today, I wish you a safe, warm, joy-filled Christmas. And look forward to sharing more of our homesteading journey here at the end of the road in the new year ahead.
Our lives are evidence… It’s never too late for a new beginning. I pray that gives you hope. That the year ahead offers you new paths and dreams and unexpected blessings beyond your wildest imagination!
Because it is written:
Watch! I’m about to carry out something new! And now it’s springing up— don’t you recognize it? I’m making a way in the wilderness and paths in the desert. ~ Isaiah 43:19 ISV