When I first brought chicks home to my limited-electricity off grid homestead, I looked all over the Internet for advice, and found it pretty thin. Now that we’ve done it three times I’m going to be very specific about our techniques, in case it will be helpful to somebody else!
Real Talk. Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever tried to do a creative thing and had that happen, that life got in the way and you just couldn’t pull it off? I mean, YES, right? Right? Tell the truth. THIS HAPPENS. This week it happened to us.
The week three whole mama link up. The word this week is “quiet.” Don’t anybody burst into tears.
I was off of social media all weekend. Instead I drove my kids through 112 degree heat to a country wedding, where we replaced our sweat with Tang and light beer in plastic cups, and I got to swing dance with a leather skinned man in cowboy boots. But at night the conversation turned to national events.
I was a member once, in a closed Facebook group for only women writers. I had just joined when a signed author posted about what a struggle she was having getting her manuscript done at the necessary clip while also parenting her children.
I felt a huge sigh of sympathy; and, having recently finished my own manuscript, I hopped right on the comment thread to put in my two cents.
Do you have a special talent that comes in handy as a mom? Perhaps you can always sing the baby to sleep, or you can tell exactly when your child is into the crayons without even being in the same room. Maybe you tell awesome stories. Maybe your empathy is off the charts. Maybe you have a whole list of #wholemama superpowers. Go ahead and write them down.
Something God has been showing me lately is that I don’t have to be a prophet all the time.
This is a tremendous relief. For you, I’m sure, but just think — so much more for me. Think of the weight I’ve carried, feeling that I couldn’t ever rest from telling people things they don’t want to hear, that I couldn’t ever shrink from researching truths that make me and everybody else uncomfortable, that I couldn’t ever stop taking the mic and the stage in order to recite our litany of sins.
I don’t talk to my father very often. On Father’s Day I consider the choices. To send a card? Or not? Should I lean into the wound? Or get myself out clean? Is it time to press into the brokenness of relationship? Or it is time to gather myself and walk away?
There isn’t a wrong answer. But there isn’t a right answer, either. I still grieve. The wounds of loss and imperfection persist.
One crazy thing about this online writing thing is that value is associated with popularity, as if there was some way to rank humanity, the ones with golden threads against the plain spun ones. But the truth is there is no shortage of stardust. Passing the spark from hand to hand isn’t only about who rocks it. It’s about who needs it.
Here are ten places where I am finding what I need right now.
I’ve hardly left my property in more than a week. Head underwater, I guess. Deep in homestead life and homestead planning. Projects every single day. But I missed you all. I thought I’d bring my head up long enough to say hello.
Mama friends, are you spinning in this season? Spinning tired? Or spinning rushed? Do you feel sometimes like you’re missing your own point? I know I do. ~ The bridge from school year to summer splits me up like a jigsaw puzzle. I don’t like change. (I’m sure I’m the only one who doesn’t like change.) […]
This is a story about a marriage. It begins with a divorce lawyer, and it ends in a yurt on a rugged hillside in Idaho. Off the grid. And with no running water.