Journal Entry: 8.9.23

The more life you let in, the messier it gets. Even on our two acres of land and a few handfuls of friends and family, it's sloppy.

This past week, my best friend's Grandfather died. Then, Stuart's Grandmother died the following day. A close friend of mine lost a second term baby boy she was carrying and another friend's home sale fell through last minute. My parents goat got run over by a car (she lived!) and my Dad fell off a ladder while hanging chicken wire in his barn, shattering his tibia (which turns out was a small concern compared to the minor stroke he had while in the ER). There is, shall we say, plenty to pray for.

To invite people and new life into our world is to invite inevitable loss, chaos, and heartbreak.

When we (I) decided to get the new puppy "Bertie", a voice in my head kept reminding me: you're not dead yet. There will be a time in my life when a dairy cow, chasing after children, or a new puppy could be out of the question. Physical limitations and life circumstances tend to bind us all eventually. But we're not there yet.

So while picture perfect scenarios play out on screens and feeds, I am intentionally choosing to bring a creature into my life and heart that will poop on my floors, chew on my shoes, and die. Choosing to add life (be it friends, children, gardens, or puppies) means choosing the messiest, stinkiest, most frustrating, most heartbreaking BEAUTY and BLESSING you could ever ask for.

I'm not dead yet.

Which means life upon life upon life is welcome here.