Sowing Seeds of Grace

Well, I reckon if I’m gonna be honest, the turn of this year has caught me a bit off guard, though truth be told, I’ve been turnin’ this over in my mind for quite some time now. The start of a new year always makes a body take stock of things—like how much time’s passed and what you’ve made of it. I’ve spent a good spell thinkin’ on it, and I do believe I’ve made up my mind on what needs doin’. This year, by gum, I’ve made it my goal to get back to the soil, get closer to God, and get a bit more serious about homesteadin’. I’ve got a few chickens—bless their hearts—some ducks that have taken to swimmin’ in the creek like they own it, and, to top it all off, four goats. And when I say four goats, I mean the kind of goats that’ll climb a fence if they think they see a snack on the other side, and they’ll do it with the grace of a tornado in a trailer park.

Now, don’t mistake me, I’m not just talkin’ about raisin’ animals, no sir. There’s a deeper purpose to it all. When I’m out there in the barnyard, gatherin’ eggs or tossin’ hay to those critters, I can’t help but feel the weight of it all—a purpose far beyond mere farm work. There’s somethin’ humblin’ about workin’ the land, tendin’ to God’s creatures, and knowin’ that in that quiet, humble labor, you’re walkin’ closer to Him. Every rooster crow, every warm egg in my palm, every time I get those goats to listen (which is rarer than a blue moon), I can feel the whisper of the Lord tellin’ me to slow down, to notice, to be grateful for what I’ve been given.

But I reckon, as much as I love my chickens and my goats, there’s more to this plan than just growin’ things and raisin’ livestock. I’ve got myself a notion to start a business—a side venture, if you will—that’ll help me keep my head above water. You see, I’ve got a heart full of ambition to do somethin’ for my community, somethin’ that’ll make a real difference. There are plenty of good folks out there who homeschool their young’uns, and if there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that the workin’ families who do so don’t always have the resources they need. I’m gonna start a nonprofit to help those families—offer support, offer materials, and give them a hand when the going gets rough. A little light in the dark, if you will.

Now, I ain’t foolin’ myself into thinkin’ it’ll all come easy. I’m more aware than a cat at a dog fight that it’s gonna take work, hard work. My attention’s been scatterin’ like leaves in a windstorm, what with all the animals and the business ideas and the nonprofit comin’ to fruition, and not to mention the everyday demands of raisin’ teenagers. But I reckon this year, I’m determined to tame the wild winds in my mind and focus, like a hound on the scent.

And that’s where my goats come in again. Now, if you’ve ever tried to teach a goat anything—let alone get her to stay put in one spot—you’ll know patience is a lesson learned through grit and determination. They’re crafty little devils, those goats, and I reckon they’ve taught me as much about life as they’ve taught me about livestock. Life ain’t always a straight path. Things go sideways, plans fall apart, and sometimes you find yourself in the weeds. But those goats, well, they remind me that if you stick with it, things can be made right—bit by bit.

As for my children, I’ve decided that this year, I’m going to build more time into our days for things that matter—the simple pleasures. Now, I’ve got myself a house full of teenagers, and let me tell you, that ain’t no easy feat. There’s enough energy in this house to power a small city, and don’t even get me started on the noise. I swear, it’s like livin’ in a whirlwind of clatter and chatter. But here’s the thing: I’ve realized that while they’re growing and sprouting their wings, I need to make the time to plant seeds of my own. We’re gonna work on hobbies, and I mean real, tangible hobbies. We’ve started a garden—a proper one, with raised beds and everythin’. We’ll be growin’ beans and potatoes, lettin’ the tomatoes run wild. The kids have taken to it, and I’m hopin’ that they’ll find joy in the earth like I did when I was their age.

And we’re gonna do other things too. I’ve picked up an old quilt project I’ve been puttin’ off for years, and I’m teaching the kids to sew, to make something with their hands, something that will last longer than the next cell phone. It ain’t about just fillin’ up the hours; it’s about fillin’ ‘em with purpose.

But, Lord knows, I’ve got to reckon with the truth that my children aren’t little ones anymore. I’m barely in my 30s, yet some days, I feel like I’ve seen more than my fair share of the world. With teenagers in the house, I feel like I’m teeterin’ on the edge of the next chapter of life, and I’m not always sure whether I’m ready for it. But what I’ve learned is that even though they’re sproutin’ up and gainin’ independence, they still need me. They need me to be present, to guide them, to offer wisdom when they’ll listen (and sometimes even when they won’t).

I’ve come to terms with it all, really. Though I find myself worn thin at times, I’ve found there’s a grace in watchin’ them grow, even if it means my role’s changin’—becomin’ less about diapers and more about giving advice on which colleges to apply to, or how to navigate the mess of life they’re walkin’ through. I reckon I’m in the thick of it all, and in some ways, that’s exactly where God wants me.

Now, as much as I’ve got my hands full with my children and all the critters on the farm, there’s something else I’ve been workin’ on this year. And that’s remakin’ myself. I’ve been carryin’ around a fair bit of negativity—anger, bitterness, resentment—and it’s weighed me down like a mule carryin’ a load of rocks. But I’ve decided this is the year I shed all of that. I’m ready to give my brokenness to God, to take those ashes of my past and hand ‘em over, trustin’ that He’ll make somethin’ beautiful out of ‘em. Life’s too short to hold on to the things that steal your peace, and I can’t be carryin’ around all that baggage anymore. I’m trustin’ that the Lord will mold me, piece by piece, into the person I’m meant to be, as sure as He shapes the clay.

So here I stand, at the start of this new year, ready to embrace what comes. I’m plantin’ seeds in the ground, plantin’ them in my children’s hearts, and plantin’ them in my own spirit, knowing full well that it takes time, patience, and a little bit of sweat to bring something good to fruition. But I also know that with God’s grace and the love of my family, it’s all gonna be worth it.

So here’s to a year of growth, of patience, and of trustin’ in the process. I reckon it’s gonna be a good one, y’all. You can take that to the bank.