Sometimes the Lord chooses to answer our desperate cries quickly! Man, oh man, did this happen fast! In the context of The Elliott Homestead, this is huge news! And great news. Ya’ll. We bought a farm. Do you like how before I drop a bomb I always say ‘y’all’? I blame it on my Southern husband.
My little sister has seen me at my very worst, because, well… I tend to show up at her doorstep at my very worst. Like a few weeks ago when I showed up with disgusting children, mascara tears streaming down my face, and begged her for a wee bit of shampoo so that I could
I often receive emails from readers wondering where to begin their homesteading journey. And much to their disapproval, I’m sure, I always respond with the same, vague answer (which I’m sure offers them no help but I say it anyway): DREAM. I can’t overemphasis the importance of dreaming for the homesteader. Because, after all, who
Remember that time you were pregnant, for your fourth time, and you felt pretty tuckered? And remember when it only took 14? 15? 16? (how many weeks am I again? does anyone even count the 4th time?) to grow out of your brand new wardrobe that you finally splurged on after weaning the last baby?
I’m not quite sure how it happened. And yet, here I am. Staring at small stacks of beautiful and fresh curriculum books. It makes me want to sharpen pencils. And, I don’t know, recite the Pledge of Allegiance or something. I’ve hinted very briefly at the fact, but today, I’m finally coming out. Y’all. We’re
I threw my hands and words up to heaven like a maniac. Lord, you don’t know what it’s like! Your son was obedient! You told him to go die on a cross and he listened. I’m asking mine to stop wiping poop on the walls and he can’t even manage that! I felt stupid as soon as
No way. No WAY. NO WAY. Funny joke, Lord. Haha. I’m laughing. Hear me? Hear my laughing? YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, DO YA? Turns out, the Lord does have a sense of humor. 3 days after weaning Will, and 3 days after feel like a real, grown up woman who had things semi in control, and
Ya’ll. Thank you for allowing me time to rest… to remember… to reflect after Sal’s passing. I’m most certainly not ‘over it’. Nor am I ‘healed’. But I am very much thankful for the time I had with my girl and that her passing was peaceful. These last few days have been fairly peaceful on
I don’t really want to write this post. I’ve been avoiding it for six days now. Because somehow, as my fingers stroke the keys, it makes it all so much more real. As many of our Facebook friends know, we’ve been asking for prayers for our Sally Belle over the past six days. Because I’ll
Summer has a bit of magic that swirls around the fringes of complete insanity. Just when I think I’ll surely hole up and die of exhaustion, there are teeny moments of pure, well, magic that revive my soul enough to complete another task… another chore… another harvest. While I was snuggled up to Sally’s flank,