Sometimes, out of nowhere, God moves you in a direction that you never knew you’d go. When Blaise was only a baby, God told me to get ready to move. I did. In between newborn feedings, raising our two other small kids, ministry life, and homeschooling, I began the process of downsizing everything we owned and getting ready. I didn’t know exactly where we were going, but I knew we were moving.

Bryan and I started dreaming together and praying. We were those weird backyard chicken people. We were planting fruit trees in our small yard and considering how many small goats we could fit into our place without the other neighbors noticing. We began to realize that we wanted more property to raise our family on. We wanted our own homestead. We wanted to be self-sustainable, so that the lean seasons of ministry wouldn’t be so hard on our growing family.

Y’all, I just got back home from an incredible week at the Clarity to Courage Conference that was hosted by Avery Forrest. I am overwhelmed by how amazingly God is working in the lives of women all over the world. I was able to meet dear online friends for the first time in person, and let me tell you, in person is sooo much better than doing life online.

While I was there, we had the most incredible worship services, and the speakers just delivered powerful Christ-Centered messages again and again. The really neat thing that there were these unintended threads that spoke of building a Kingdom legacy woven into what was shared throughout the whole event. It was beautiful. Again and again, I just felt absolutely blown away by the amazing God I serve. His riches really are boundless. When His people come together in unity, amazing things happen.

This brings me to my friend Cate. She has three kids and one on the way. God laid it on her heart to host Ukranian orphans in her home this Christmas through an organization called, “Host Orphans Worldwide.”

The past six months have been filled with grief for me. I watched close friends struggle through the suicide of a family member. I could see my grandmother was nearing her end. A freak accident ended up in the death of my little cockatiel. A dog attack on our farm killed my favorite goat who I had hand raised from a baby. Friends lost loved ones to Covid. Finally, my grandmother met Jesus face to face.

Grief has been a constant companion in these days. Here are some things I have learned walking in the valley of the shadow of death.

Jesus is here too. He holds you when you can’t hold onto Him.

My precious grandmother is with Jesus now. I've been so sad and there just aren't words when you lose your last grandparent. I think the loss is harder as an adult than it was as a child.

Mammaw was one of a kind. She was spirited, feisty, funny, and loved to overindulge those she called her own. She was absolutely not what anyone expected a pastor’s wife to be.

Few things are more humbling than being a farmer. One lapse in judgment can result in death. The permanency of that is sobering.

Yesterday morning, I was woken up to chaos in our chicken coop. I jumped up, put my robe on, and stumbled outside looking around as chickens were screaming and hiding. I scanned the skies but the predator was gone. Instead, there was an empty nesting box with a full clutch of eggs that should have hatched soon. Abby’s favorite hen was missing. Something had gotten her. I had forgotten to close the coop the night before. I knew better.

There are whispers in Creation that echo of the Eden we lost. Like when early mornings give us trees that dazzle with dew drops, you feel the beauty touch something deep inside and you ache for something more. When winter drags on and the ground is brown and dead and cold, sometimes you just ache for it to be over. You wonder if winter will ever really end?

Then, sure as the sun, spring comes again, and clovers and buds and wildflowers emerge almost overnight to announce the coming of brighter days ahead. You feel you can breathe again. Your soul feels the warmth, and these signs remind us it will not always be winter.

I went to Walmart tonight with Bryan. While we were there, a young mom was struggling with a kid who was having a horrible meltdown. The kid was so loud that everyone in Walmart heard her. To say it was awkward is an understatement. It was close to unbearable for everyone, including the mom. While everyone who was passing by whispered to each other how they would spank the kid or stated why they would never want kids, my heart went out to her.

It would be unfair to say that I was better than everyone else. To say that I'm a nicer person than them is simply not true. I used to be them before I was her.

It was last week, and we were supposed to be doing a staycation at my parents’ camp in Plum Bluff Estates. We had been looking forward to getting away and resting, but the trip had turned out far less restful than I had hoped. The river was up, so instead of a week of playing on the sandbar with the kids, we were altogether in a small place and going stir crazy. The river was so high that most of the residents had left, so it was a ghost town.

At the beginning of this year, I had a little greenhouse, and I started out different varieties of lettuce from seeds in red solo cups. As the tiny plants formed and grew, I got too busy to manage them as well as they needed, and I left them in the cups for too long. Soon, they outgrew their space, and their growth started to be their end. They were becoming root bound, and if I didn’t move them to a bigger container, they would atrophy and die.