Headed Down A Dimly Lit Road of Uncertainty

A weekly post from my childhood to grown-up friend Carrie ~ 

sharing her awesome life and her desire to have community while doing it!

Happy TribeLife Tuesday! 

Let’s talk today on something I have strayed away from for a myriad of reasons. Each one of you who join us here, on the blog, are our tribe and I am always wanting to make sure that I share my world authentically and accurately and that I manage my influence carefully. It is my desire that in this tribe I steward myself well as well as the content I publish. Which bring us to today, there is so much divisiveness in our culture without the willingness to understand. It seems as though the stories that are getting the most attention are less than flattering of mankind. The lack of empathy due to principle is inhuman. So I have made it a point to work hard at prioritizing people over all the other things; that connection would be the #1 goal, even in the middle of disagreement. So let’s jump into this. 

In October of 2017, exactly one year ago this month, I took a leap. Well not just me, but my husband and me. For about 10 months I felt this change coming but had no idea what it was and honestly I was wondrously intimidated. This tent of unsettledness became my home and it was… well it just was. Have you ever been there? Where you can feel change coming but you have no idea what it is? 

That is where I lived and really still live a lot of my time there. We left our full time jobs and went on the hunt for purpose. For our Life’s Calling. We untethered ourselves from everything we knew, everything that was safe and comfortable and headed down the dimly lit road of uncertainty. What a thrilling and scary and hard and growing dark path it has been. 

It’s on this path where we have 2 options: hope or anxiety. Hope that someone bigger than us is watching out for us, or anxiety of the unknown. I chose a little of both to be honest in the beginning and still do sometimes. I would weave in and out of each emotion (and believe me, the anxiousness was much more taxing that the hope). But in order to hope I had to make a conscious decision to negate the feeling of anxiety to tell my mind and heart that this will work for good. A life lesson I learned from a dear friend. 

I continue to see a pattern in our life: R I S K. It seems like the opportunity to stretch presents itself pretty often to us. I could not risk like we have and will continue to, if it were all up to me. Thats too much pressure. 

So let’s go back to that someone bigger than you or me. I’m a firm believer that I would be super lame and probably try and play it real safe if I were navigating this life on my own—but I'm not. I have the big guy upstairs, God, and He really does have my back. I see it all the time. I love God fiercely and in my loving Him I can’t help but love humanity, even in their sometimes meanness. But this is the weight I wrestle with at times. I would never want my beliefs to deter someone from getting to know me or vice versa. Alas, I have landed where I wanted to get to: God, people, empathy. 

I love that people have different views than me and different life practices than I do. It’s a beautiful addition to living. So I would like to implore you today to find someone different than you and get to know them. Put down the spikes of judgement that are so easily thrown from behind the curtain of distance and get up close. Ask questions. Be kind. These are the things that change the world quite literally. 

I hope you leave this page inspired today. 

Sincerely,

Carrie

We Bought a Farm: The story of a silver bowl

I'm not sure how the silver bowl ended up as a feeding dish for our animals here on the farm.

But it did.

And every time I see it, I can't help it. 

I smile a little bit.

(John does too.)

(And when I share the story with others, I see them chuckling a bit as well.)

JB graduated high school. 

Then he wrote one essay in just a few minutes and turned it in to The Fort Lauderdale Art Institute on a whim.

Art Institute liked it so much ...

they offered him a full scholarship. 

(When you grow up like John and me, the only way you go to college is a full scholarship or paying for it yourself.)

So he went.

Fast forward.

• John graduates with an Associates Degree in Art. 
• He now owns his own graphic design business. 
• I get sick. 
• He finds cure. 
• (Without use of the Internet.)
• He realizes not only people from rich families can be doctors.
• He decides to go back to school pre-med. 
• He applies to Western Kentucky University where I have just finished my four year degree.

WKU tells him they are sorry, but the Art Institute classes don't talk to Western's classes. He can't bring any of his credits with him to WKU. He will have to start over. From scratch.

So he does.

Until his advisor tells him he has to take Art Appreciation.

(Enter hilarious laughter on all sides.)

John goes to Dean's office. He tells Dean that he really thinks that despite the fact that his Associates won't connect with his Bachelor's, he should get just three credit hours for the two years he spent at the Art Institute.

Dean agrees.

Dean gives him the three credits.

Hurrah!

(I know you are thinking: what does this have to do with a silver bowl? Patience please.)

Fast forward four years. John has run his business from home while going to school full-time while I have begun teaching and coaching. He has taken the MCAT and knows he is headed to the prestigious Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. 

• We go to John's college graduation. 
• We are shocked when we learn he has the highest grades in the entire Ogden College of Science and Engineering. 
• He is the recipient of a special award. 
• However, because he received that one Art Appreciation credit, he doesn't receive the very highest award. He receives the second highest award.

And that award ...

(I see you tracking with me!)

It is a silver dish. 

It has John's name engraved on the side. 

We laugh now at the memory of John getting knocked down a level in awards because he got that one stupid Art Appreciation credit.

And we laugh that the silver bowl that we were both so proud of, has gone down in importance over the years. Medical school and the Air Force and four kids and a farm has taken over and at some point, we were short a food dish and someone brought out John's old award. 

We actually like it being a food dish on the farm.

It says a lot.

Without saying anything at all.

P.S. Here are some pictures I found in an old scrapbook of that day back in 2003. (This was before digital photos ya'll.) 

Grace is sixteen today!!!

John's up on the stage receiving his award. Hard to see.

Review: All the Colors We Will See (and GIVEAWAY!)

This book made me t-h-i-n-k. All the Colors We Will See is Patrice Gopo's first book. The child of Jamaican immigrants, her parents move to Alaska where she was raised -- one of the only black children in a very white school ... a very white state. She then marries a South African man before they relocate to the Southeast corner of the USA. In the midst of her writings, she also discusses her time helping a white family on a mission trip in a black country. 

This is written from a Christian perspective which was especially appealing to me.

Among many paragraphs that made t-h-i-n-k was the following:

Other students ask my questions about what it's like to be a Jamaican American. They look to me to explain something they don't know. I answer their questions. I tell them how cultures mixed in my home. I talk of spaghetti on Thursday nights and brown stew chicken every Sunday. I mention my mix tapes with a Bob Marley track followed by a Brandy track. I hear my voice tells stories of childhood, of relatives who lived so very far away. A life in a short of in-between place. Not one side of a river, nor the other, but learning how to swim in the current. I mention how I sometimes wonder what life might have been had I grown up around more Jamaican Americans. Maybe in New Your City or somewhere in Florida. 

or this one:

Even as she spoke, I imagined the reach of Western culture extending like long fingers across continents. Black South African girls must have witnessed movies and television programs with fluffy white dresses and handsome grooms, just as I had a young American girl. "White wedding" seemed like a nice way to package the Western trappings of nuptial bliss as if bridesmaids, a minister, a wedding march, and a white dress made a marriage. Only later did I consider that the word white might not have meant the wedding dress as I assumed. Perhaps it could have referenced the people who originated the custom. 

And it is not just race she discusses. She discusses being a black woman in the field of chemistry. She discusses watching her parents lose their marriage as an adult. Being a mother.

Did I like this book. Well, I t-h-i-n-k I did. At some times, I felt that she was going overboard with her opinions about situations. But at other times, I wondered if I just wasn't see it correctly.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. 

P.S. I am going to have a give-away contest for this book. Please leave a comment below. In one week, I will randomly pick someone to give this book too!

Wee-wind Wednesday

Be Specific

So there is so much to being a mom that no one tells you.

Let's say you have two boys who share clothes.

And just for example's sake, let's say you tell one son, "Don't wear those shorts to homeschool co-op today. They are a mess."

And then that boy does as he is told and takes the shorts off but doesn't put them in the dirty clothes. He throws them somewhere in his room.

Second boy comes along. He sees a pair of shorts. He puts them on. But it's a bit cold. So he puts on a pair of sweatpants over them.

Then he gets to co-op, and he takes your PE class. He gets hot. He takes off his sweatpants only for you to discover, dude you are wearing the shorts I told your brother not to wear!

(Okay, maybe I actually didn't notice until like 3 hours later. Let's keep it real here.)

When you ask to take a picture of them, he realizes you are going to tell people about this so you promise to leave his face out and not name him, but you laugh and say, "I told you guys not to wear those shorts."

And he says, "You never told me not to wear them."

How did I become a ballet mom?

 

We Bought a Farm: The Littlest Error

John and I nailed moving the egg-mobile today. It is usually a three-person job, but we did it with just the two of us. Somedays you are just moving really well, timing things right, not forgetting things, and what can sometimes take an hour, was completed easily in about fifteen minutes.

And then that evening, as I do every night, I went out to put the chickens to bed. This means putting their ramp up and closing the door so predators can't get in. It was then I realized, when we moved the egg-mobile earlier, we had completely forgotten to re-open their door and re-let-down their ramp. (You have to close them up to move the egg-mobile.)

Dangggggg nabbbbitttttt!!!!

This meant that all the chickens that were inside when the egg-mobile was moved were stuck inside. This also means that all the chickens that were outside when the egg-mobile was moved were stuck outside. 

This isn't a terrible problem until it gets dark. Chickens aren't the smartest animals. And their night vision is very poor. When they discovered they couldn't get in and it got darker and darker, they all hunkered down under the egg-mobile and decided not to budge.

And may I note, this wouldn't have been the biggest problem in the world if it wasn't going to be in the 30's this evening. Way too cold for them to be outside.

I tried to tackle the problem myself. I put the 4-wheeler lights facing the egg-mobile and showed the chickens the way. But they were having none of that. A few got the idea. But most decided to remain where they were.

This meant I had to go back to the house and get the chicken-catching-professionals (JB, Sidge and Isaac.) They were already dressed for bed and reading with JB upstairs.

The boys are super fantastic at catching chickens. They jumped at the chance to get filthy and go to bed an hour past the time they were supposed to.

Oh farming .... the best laid plans .... are only plans. The reality is what you must wait to experience.

We Bought a Farm: Finding joy in staying active

My kiddos have really gotten into watching Netflix's The Ultimate Beastmaster (think American Ninja Warrior on steroids). It has inspired them. Abigail has actually timed herself in the position below and her record is currently 25 minutes:

They are doing competitions on the farm with balance and strength and endurance. She and Sidge have actually been doing daily work-outs. Isaac and Hannah will also participate in the competitions. They have a book they are keeping with "farm records" and their Kotynski cousins are participating as well. I love that my kids are active and that they find a way to enjoy this activity. It's truly one of our goals for our children: that they find joy in keeping their body's healthy. 

I am not sure why they are doing this actually. When I ask, they are vague. I think they both want to be a Beastmaster someday but don't want to tell me. I found the following in Abigail's desk. Sidge actually showed me his too, but he told me I couldn't take a picture of it: 

P.S. Pole work is what is pictured in the picture above. :)

We Bought a Farm: Sweet Potato Poses

We had some fun harvesting sweet potatoes on Wednesday during our school day. Here are some of my favorite pics:

 

My cousin Hannah and her buddy Arabelle. Unfortunately, a few hours after this picture, Hannah had an accident at her house and broke her foot. I'm so bummed for her! It's going to be quite challenging for her, but I know she'll do it.

Check out the lemongrass we harvested from the garden!

We Bought a Farm: Dear 120 or so chickens living at the Bauernhof,

Dear 120 or so chickens living at the Bauernhof, 

See that picture above? That is an egg. E-G-G. It is something you lay. It is why we bought you as a tiny two-day-old chick and give you life. It is why we feed you a very expensive organic feed. It is why we give you plenty of sunshine and grass and fresh water. 

We move your house regularly so you can get area to roam. We lock you up at night so that no predators eat your little chicken bodies. Other thank hawks (and an occasional Ritter who forgets he isn't supposed to be interested in chicken), you have not a care in the world.

All we ask from you is that you LAY an egg. You don't even have to lay one every day. Every other day is fine by us. That is your one and only job in the world. We have no roosters. You don't even have to be available to be bred. Your life consists of sleeping, roosting, walking, eating bugs, sun-bathing in the grass, drinking all the water you want, and eating delicious feed. 

Oh and up until three months ago it also meant laying eggs. You were all on the same page and doing great. You were laying about 90 of these little E-G-G's every single day.

And then you just STOPPED. 

Now, to be fair, you aren't alone. Apparently all of our neighbor farmers are having the same issue with their chickens. It's something in the weather. Or something with the moon. Or something with the chicken gods. We don't know. We've tried whispering sweet nothings into your egg-mobile each night. We've tried petting you and feeding you more and begging you. You aren't too old. You are just ornery. 

Today all 120 of you laid a grand total of seven eggs. Not Seventy. 

S-E-V-E-N. 

Are you kidding me? Our family eats 12 eggs a day. That isn't even feeding us. Forget all the people who buy eggs from us. 

So dear chicken layers. Consider yourself warned. Start laying ... or else. 

We know how to make meat chickens around here little missies. Stop strutting and get it together!

Sincerely,

The frustrated lady farmer at the Bauernhof

We Bought a Farm: Sweet Potato Poetry

Below I share a video of three minutes of our lives. It was taken with nine children and three adults as we harvested sweet potatoes.

As I watched it back, I realized that it so perfectly illustrates what my life is like. It is ...

exhausting
exhilarating
LOUD!
busy
unorganized
crazy
all-consuming

But in the same breath I find myself seeing that it is also ...

beautiful
idyllic
happy
peaceful
picturesque

This is us harvesting sweet potatoes at the end of our TF Homeschooling day. I mumble at the end when I think the camera is off, "You can't get this anywhere else but here," because I truly mean it. Oh to live on a farm and get to experience harvesting sweet potatoes.

And yet, Oh to live on a farm and feel the day-to-day grind of what that life requires.

It is a life that brings a breath that says, "This is the hardest thing I have ever done and I am so tired and I just want to move to the suburbs and put all this crazy behind me," followed by another breath that says, "Look at those potatoes and this opportunity and holy cow is that moon beautiful and did you ever know you could see so many stars by just stepping out onto your back porch?"

I hope you enjoy a three minute look into our mind. And you MUST watch it with the volume up because goodness knows, it's always up in our house:

Hiding in Plain Sight

A weekly post from my childhood to grown-up friend Carrie ~ 

sharing her awesome life and her desire to have community while doing it!

Happy TribeLife Tuesday!

Is hiding the best place not to be seen?

 

As I have gotten older, my bent has become to hide before being misunderstood. UGH no! I don’t even agree with this statement, but it has been what I have lived over the last half decade. So what is one to do about that?

When I intentionally sit down and reflect on how I got here and when I ask myself what has contributed to this posture, the beautiful unraveling begins. There were so many years when standing in who I was, was misinterpreted and then labeled. Because labeling someone makes it easier for us to comprehend. Putting people into the "appropriate" box alleviates our responsibility to stay human, to choose kindness, and to walk in humility. Unfortunately it also feeds the beast of judgement and if there is one thing our culture doesn’t need more of, it's judgement. With each encounter we have with others, we get the opportunity to see them for who they are. Not even so much who they portray, but the greatness of who they are. 

Seeing people for who they are, most of the time, takes us out of the equation. It’s not about how we perceive them, it’s about seeing beyond the surface. I have found it to be much easier to see people when I choose kindness first, when I refuse to cast a preconceived notion on them. For example, I live in a very urban area and with that comes a plethora of humanity. Our homeless population is pretty large and they are very much a part of our community. I have been in my office (aka: coffee shops) and have had the privilege of witnessing something palliative. It’s the well dressed business person alongside the table where the homeless person takes a moment to rest. This is a beautifully raw part of life. 

So, let's get back to preconceived notions. It is easy to see the homeless person at the stop light, avoid eye contact, and pray the light turns green before they walk past your window. I get it, I’ve been there. I once ran a red light just to avoid having to sit at the intersection with a homeless person. I felt guilty about it for days, so I’m not proud of that moment. But that’s just it. I saw a beggar who needed something from me that I didn’t want to give. Time and money. It was about me and what I perceived they needed. I labeled them and ran past. And the crazy thing is, even as I write this, I’m realizing the same thing has been done to me. I have also been perceived as something, labeled, and pushed away. The truth is—we all have. Tribe, this is never a fun experience. But misunderstandings are avoidable if we chose courage over fear. 

Have you ever been misunderstood? Labeled? Pushed away? 

If so, then you have the gift of awareness and you get to be part of the solution. You get to course-correct for the next person. 

Ellen Degeneres summed it up perfectly when she said, “Give and be kind.” 

Are you in?

Carrie

Puppy Flashbacks

I recently stumbled on this picture of our friends Nick and Erin Law. They brought their whole family to meet their little Meli. This is one of the earliest pictures of all seven puppies!

The House: Before (and AFTER!)

All right folks, I think it is time. Here are the pictures of our house inside and house when we bought it at the end of 2014. (This was the house when we viewed it the first time upon walk-thru. This is not our furniture.)

Before

After

 Before

  

After

Not completely done / mantel not on yet but basic idea is coming together.

First burn in the wood stove!

 

Before

After

Before

After

I still need to get a new pic of the outside -- not quite done yet so stay tuned.

* * * * *
I also wanted to share some pictures of our new dog kennel which is nestled under our stairs. My brother-in-law Ray was the one who transformed this into an amazing "house" for our dogs.

And here is a video of the electronic aspect of the house:



* * * * * 

Here is a video I took right after the house flood that started all this off:

Here is a video I took about two weeks ago:

We Bought a Farm: Our quilt

 

A few months back, I posted asking for advice. My friend Anni had offered to make us a quilt to go with our new home and new bedroom. And I wanted ideas. We finally settled on a design. It matches our walls perfectly. I'm going to get some shams to match too, but it isn't it amazing. The time Anni put into this is more than I can ever put into words and "thank you" doesn't seem like quite enough.

I love how God brings people along that you can tell He planned to be included in your "circle." Anni is one of those people. We've had a few special people we've met through our farm: Tijmen, Anni, and Jacob just to name a few that will always be a part of our lives. 

Thank you Anni for this amazing blessing. I may have teared up a little bit today looking at it. :)

 

Finally!! I can share my secret!!!!

I have been keeping a very big secret for many months!!! And finally I have been given the green light to share.

Crystal Bowman is a well-known children's author. She is also a good friend of Joan VanWyck. (Joan is Isaac's birth grandmother.) 

About a year ago, Crystal approached me asking if I would be a contributor to a book sharing the different stories of women who had experienced infertility, miscarriage, or adoption. Joan is also a contributor. She also asked me if I would help her connect with some of my other infertility friends!!

I can now tell you that this book has a cover and a release date!! February 5th!

While I have done a lot of writing, this is the first time my story will be published in a book! 

Please share this with everyone you know!!

We Bought A Farm: The Story of the Turkey who choked

This morning I went to check on our pasture-raised turkeys and discovered one was dead. This is very unusual as these turkeys are incredibly hardy and once they make it to about four weeks old, we never lose one.

I did some investigation and figured out that he had started chewing on a "tie" that we use to tie fencing to other fencing. It was halfway down his throat and had obviously choked him. It was just an old tie that had probably gotten dropped in their paddock somewhere along the line -- possibly many months (or years?!) ago.

You know, there's one thing about death from other predators or things you can't control. But when you feel it is something that you were sort of responsible for, it really bothers me. It bothered me all day. As I carried his body out of the paddock, he was soooo heavy. Not only was I sad that he had choked, but I was also sad that we were basically losing an entire sale of meat.

Every mistake is an opportunity to learn, and as my cousin's wife, Hannah Grace and I, moved the turkeys to a new paddock later that day, we took the time to quickly glance around and make sure there weren't any blue ties anywhere that they could choke on again.

So much of this life is unpredictable. I keep thinking .... we are doing this simply to homestead. This is not an income for us. How do farmers handle the disappointments when their family's life is on the table?

So challenging. So much to learn. So much happiness and sadness. So much excitement and frustration.

#Ican'tbelievethisismylife

Wee-Wind Wednesday

For my "Wee-Wind Wednesday" I decided to flashback on Abigail to the first video I captured of her walking. This was back in June of 2012:



And now, six years later, Abigail is doing way more than walking:

Tuesday Truth

Wielding Vulnerability as a Weapon

A weekly post from my childhood to grown-up friend Carrie ~ 

sharing her awesome life and her desire to have community while doing it!

Happy TribeLife Tuesday! 

If this is your first time here, Welcome to our Tribe! We are a group of humans gathering each week to share life, inspire one another, and each of us is boldly choosing to become a difference maker in our world. 

Today I want you to pull up a chair, take a deep breath, and come find rest. Here. Right here. On this page. Over the years and through many conversations with some of my most amazing friends I have seen this frantic need for self preservation when relationships get tough. I’ve been there myself. When the vulnerability sirens start blaring, our natural instinct kicks in - SURVIVE - PROTECT! The somewhat natural tendency in shutting down emotionally and putting distance between you and said friend, partner, or family member can sometimes be alarming—but today I want to sit right there with you. 

How do we stay vulnerable in the midst of pain, hurt, shame, turmoil, and the everyday?

I’ll start with me. For a long time I had confused openness with vulnerability. I have always been a very open person. I don’t fear personal questions. If you ask me anything, 9.5 times out of 10 I am going to answer you—and I used to think that was vulnerability. But it’s not. For example, I would share with you how my husband and I have tried to conceive a child for 10 years and that we are still on that journey, but what I wouldn’t tell you is that we have started the adoption process with 3 different agencies over the years and heard from 2 of those 3 agencies that “we were not accepted” without explanation. You see, that’s the vulnerable part. Not only are unqualified physically, but now we’re labeled that as well. So therein lies this insufficiency—my insufficiency—which causes me to protect that part of my life. It’s self-preservation. 

The process of adoption is having your life scoured to see if you meet the standard. Please hear me, I believe in the process, I understand it, I appreciate it, and it’s necessary. None the less, in my “case,” showing up vulnerably means starting this process again, when I’ve already been disappointed and rejected (more than once). It means not ALWAYS hiding behind the generality of infertility. It’s accepting this precious gift of vulnerability as a sword, my weapon to brandish. It’s powerful, heavy, sharp and not to be wielded frivolously.  

Let’s rest here for a minute on the fact that vulnerability is a weapon which you may wield. In one of the pieces I wrote a while back called Relationships, Risky Business, I stated, "vulnerability levels the playing field” and I want to expand on that a little more. Being willing to let someone in emotionally (which is all that vulnerability is) is an exposure of a tender part of yourself, meaning that you are willing to relinquish your power and lay down your weapon. This is the stuff that grows us, it puts the humanity back into living. 

Many times we want a guarantee that the other person will do the same with their sword, that they will lay it down. But having a guarantee defeats the purpose of being vulnerable. Walking into the ring, bare, with only your sword makes you so freaking powerful. It's at that point where it is no longer about self-preservation, but about how strong you really are. 

Tribe, I know this is much easier said then done. I know this because I have been in the ring many times, sometimes wielding my weapon for protection and sometimes laying it down despite the outcome. This is not a one time only type of thing. It’s choice you make continually, in every relationship, with every person you find yourself in the ring with. 

So I ask you today, How are you doing with your vulnerability?

Carrie