I used to wonder if moving to the country was some kind of escape from real life. On the surface, the story of a family who moves from the heart of the city to a small farm in the country sounds like an escape plan if ever I've heard one. But I never wanted our move to be an escape. I wanted it to be part of a greater purpose. And it is...in more ways than I could've imagined.
The wild beauty of a summer storm.
But the farm isn't all porch sitting, tea sipping and storm watching. Sometimes real life feels like it's right up on us. Bearing down dark and heavy with no escape. Sometimes my heart can't handle what my eyes see.
My husband carrying a lifeless fawn
after watching it perish in our pasture.
Sometimes my heart can't handle what my eyes see...both the beauty and the brokenness. But I'm learning to hold both. And in holding both in my heart at once, I'm learning how to really live. Because real life is made up of both. And sometimes, I wonder if that's the greatest lesson of farm living.
Learning to live in both the beauty and the brokenness,
P.S. I'm so sorry if the second image offends your sensitive spirit. I didn't plan to take that photo...or to share it. But something about it feels sacred. Just as learning to hold beauty and brokenness feels sacred. Not always pretty, but always sacred.