What's the Plott?

  We run our little farm completely for joy.  It doesn’t make us any money.  As a matter of fact… it costs us quite a bit. 😅  It doesn’t put food on the table—yet.  And it’s definitely not always convenient.  But what it does give us is something better. It gives us joy. It gives us focus. It gives us something to come home to when the rest of the day feels a little chaotic.  No matter what the day looked like… when we pull into our little homestead, the responsibilities are simple. Feed the animals. Check the water. Make the dinner. Do the next little thing that needs to be done. And there is always a next little thing. Some of them are fun.  Like updating the seasonal herb garden...  or turning one of the tack room stalls into a little hunting haven for the boys. But most of them?  They’re just the small, ordinary, necessary things that keep everything running. After a few weeks of knocking out some of those odds and ends...

There are seasons in life when things shift… and we don’t always understand why. People move. Roles change. Spaces that once felt safe… start to feel uncertain. Those seasons can leave you feeling something deeper than just confused. They can leave you feeling… less than. Less valued. Less seen. Less important than you thought you were. And that feeling has a way of settling in if you’re not careful. Scripture gives us so many pictures of what God is doing in seasons like that—but sometimes those pictures feel a little different when you’re the one living inside of them.   Pruning, for instance, is a common scripture reference for this type of season.  “He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” — John 15:2 It is a process talked about in scripture for personal sanctification. We usually read that and think of growth and becoming more. But pruning doesn’t feel like growth when yo...

With the school year coming to a close and a transition to middle school as next on the horizon, I've been living in the world of 504 plan updates and accommodations. Meetings. Emails. Conversations. Trying to think ahead… trying to think  around  things… trying to envision all the what ifs to make sure my son has what he needs before he even knows he needs it. If you’ve walked this road with a child who has ADHD (or any spectrum acronym), you know what I mean. It’s not just about schoolwork. It’s about understanding how their brain works on a Tuesday that feels normal… and a Thursday that is just a little off. It’s about remembering that the child their teacher sees all day is not always the same child I see at home. At school, he’s medicated. At home, he's not, or it's wearing off. At school, there are structures, rhythms, and systems. At home, there’s real life—transitions, distractions, responsibilities, emotions, and comfort (for the better or worse)....

Sometimes I drive through my little town of Adams Run and think… How did I get here? On most roads, the speed limit is 35 miles per hour if there is a speed limit posted at all. People drive slowly anyway because it just makes sense. There is a view and curiosity worth taking in, and life just moves more slowly out here. The funny thing is — I’m only about 30 minutes outside of the city I grew up in. Thirty minutes. I had no idea the country was this close before I lived in it. But here I am in the country every night, far from street lights and neighborhood noise. On any given day, I’m tending to sheep, feeding horses, riding four-wheelers, navigating dirt roads that constantly need repair, or enjoying the Edsito River bank and checking game cameras, and considering summer gardening projects. This is my normal... and yes, it is woven into a busy and vibrant ministry and motherhood and big family.... but it is still the modus operandi. It’s nothing like I ever imagined for myself...