The land we’ve been blessed with is absolutely bursting with potential.
And, with a substantial amount of sweat, hard work, determination and love, it will one day become the vision I have in my mind: Our Someday Farm.
A year ago, our family lived in town on a quarter of an acre on a dead end street. Our first home was lovely – and it will always hold the memories of bringing our babies home, raising them up in a quiet neighborhood, and celebrating all of their firsts.
But, as it turns out, my husband Chris and I are actually meant to be country folks.
We discovered this a handful of years ago, and we started looking around for acreages for sale. Now when I say “we” I really mean Chris, because up until a year and a half ago, I still wasn’t convinced.
I was busy keeping toddlers alive. And to be completely honest, I was stuck in the rut of being a stay-at-home-mom. Head down, getting through each day. That’s no way to find joy, mama!
My husband is the kind of man who takes his time when making decisions. He’s careful in his planning and likes to anticipate things that could go wrong before ultimately making the best choice. It’s advantageous to his job as an engineer, as he’s very good at what he does. Not only is he book smart, he’s athletic and deeply disciplined, pushing himself to always do his best and leave things better than he found them.
I trust him completely, and often depend on him to keep our family headed in the right direction.
Much to his chagrin, I like to begin projects on a whim – without explanation or too much of a plan. Sometimes plans can get in the way of a perfectly spontaneous creative idea! Over the twelve years we’ve been together, we’ve learned to give each other heaps of grace and choose love despite how different we are in those ways.
But every now and then, we switch roles and he proposes some new huge idea for our family, and I am overwhelmed and intimidated by the newness of this big scary new thing, and I just can’t jump in with both feet.
So I tell him we can think about it. And then I go back to what’s comfortable for me, unchanged.
The farm where we now live started out as this big scary new thing.
Years ago, Chris casually asked me one day if I’d ever want to live in the country.
I remember quickly saying no. Not for me.
Too isolated out there – no one to hear me scream if I needed help. Too many animals. Not interested. I’d never lived in the country before. We’d be so far from everything. My car would get dirty from the gravel roads. We’d be lonely without any neighbors. Yes, these are the lame excuses that actually popped into my head.
And then the quiet voice inside started entertaining the idea.
It was a whisper at first, but as the months passed it became louder.
It tugged at the parts of my heart that wanted to grow my own food, to give my children the space to run as fast and as far as they can before they sprawl out on the grass in the summer sunshine.
The voice tenderly reminded me of my own childhood and how I spent countless hours at my grandparents’ acreage. How happy it made me to sit high up in my grandma’s apple tree, plant carrots and beans alongside her, feel the sun on my face and hear the wind blowing through the cottonwood tree as I swung on the tire swing.
Harder to ignore, still, was the quiet persistence of my husband.
It’s not the first time he’s planted an idea in my brain. Have you seen the movie Inception? Now that I think about it, Chris has a history of influencing my subconscious mind – in the best way. He has encouraged and supported me through natural childbirth (twice!), cloth diapering, the decision to homeschool our children, and now Our Someday Farm.
We don’t necessarily choose to do things that are easy, but we know the payoff for this way of life is going to be incredibly rewarding.
The middle of May marks six months of us living here at the farm. We’ve endured our first Iowa winter and the spring that we thought would never come.
And now we’re embracing new life as we ready the land for our garden, nurture the seedlings we began planting indoors in February, and watch over our flock of baby chickens that will grow to supply us with meat and eggs in the coming months.
I have wild dreams for this place, I’ll admit.
I also have a man I adore with a strong back and a good head on his shoulders.
And we’ve both never felt more at home.