Uncategorized – Page 3 – Practical Homesteading

The Scariest Button I Click as a Homesteading Mom Blogger

What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

I’ve been writing online for nine months, and you’d think the fear would have faded. But every time I hover over “Publish,” my heart still skips. It’s funny — no matter how many posts I write, that little flash of fear never really goes away.

The Scariest Button I Click

“Publish” on my most vulnerable stories.

I can talk all day about raising kids, growing food, and finding our rhythm in community. I’ve shared about my postpartum struggles and other tender seasons because I want other moms to know they’re not alone. That kind of openness feels easier now—but there are deeper stories I haven’t shared yet. The ones that changed me, stretched me, and still make my stomach knot when I think about putting them out there.

The Drafts That Wait

Some of those stories sit in my drafts folder, half‑finished, holding the hardest moments—the times that tested my faith, my patience, and my sense of self. I know sharing them might help someone else, but I still hesitate. I worry about being misunderstood, about saying too much, about people turning away. But I also know that the most meaningful connections grow when we show up honestly, even when it scares us.

What It Would Take

A clear why: Remembering that if one person feels seen, the fear is worth it.
Gentle accountability: Friends who nudge me to keep showing up.
Boundaries: Knowing which parts of my story I can hold close.
Small practice: One honest sentence at a time, letting courage build slowly.

Growing Braver

The fear never really leaves. But each time I hit “publish,” I feel a little steadier, a little stronger. I see that courage isn’t a single leap—it’s the quiet, everyday choosing to keep growing, even when it’s uncomfortable. Maybe that’s what real community is built on: showing up with our full selves, mess and all, and finding we’re not alone after all.

Feature Photo by yousef samuil on Unsplash

If you’re comfortable, tell me one area where you’re trying to be braver this year.

If this story made you feel a little less alone, share it with a friend who might need it too. Better yet, invite them over for coffee and a real conversation. Subscribe for more reflections on growing food, raising kids, and building community—new posts every Sunday and Thursday.

From Frisbees to Family: How Sports Taught Me the True Meaning of Community

Daily writing prompt

What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

View all responses

A Game of Connection

Sports have never been my main passion. But they always seem to sneak back into my life — especially when community and connection are involved.

For someone more comfortable in the garden than on the field, I’ve learned that sports aren’t really about keeping score. They’re about teamwork, laughter, and shared stories that stick with you long after the final whistle.

Back When I Played

Back in graduate school, a group of friends and colleagues had a standing tradition of meeting twice a week to rotate between volleyball, soccer, and ultimate frisbee. Rain or shine, homework or no, we almost always managed to get enough players for two teams. Those games were the highlight of my week — a sweaty, laughter-filled break from the grind of grad school. We learned to read each other’s signals, celebrate small victories, and laugh off missed goals. These lessons translated well both to the lab and to the classroom. And, of course, the post-game burgers and beers were every bit as important as the play itself.

The Knee Incident (and Das Boot)

My sports “career,” however, took a dramatic turn during one fateful ultimate frisbee game. I jumped, landed wrong, and felt that awful twist — I had dislocated my right kneecap. That injury ended my athletic adventures at the tender age of 24. I still remember that sharp pop, the scramble to the sidelines, and the next day’s slow walk to urgent care. A few weeks later, at my own going-away party and still determined to have fun, I went with my crew to the Essenhaus to dance the polka. Let’s just say: bad idea. Same knee, same problem.

The type of jump I made when I dislocated my kneecap. I caught the frisbee too. Photo by Stefano Zocca on Unsplash

Looking back, I can admit that drinking Das Boot probably had something to do with my decision to hit the dance floor on a bum knee. Lesson learned, but it’s still one of those stories we laugh about around the table. Now, more than a decade later, the memory makes me smile far more than it aches.

Watching Now, Not Playing

These days, sports play a different role in my life. I may not be on the field anymore, but I love the energy of watching a good game — especially live. There’s something about a football or baseball crowd that brings people together so naturally. Strangers high-five after a score, pass along shared cheers, or tease rival fans in good fun. Tailgates are my favorite part — not because of the game itself, but for the food and fellowship that surround them. The smoky scent of burgers, laughter spilling from nearby tents, friends swapping recipes for dips or barbecue sauces — it’s all about connection. Like sharing a dish at a potluck or passing homegrown tomatoes over the fence, sports gatherings are another way we build community one joyful moment at a time.

From Tailgates to Home Games

On game days at home, the living room becomes our little stadium. The kids get into the excitement (mostly for the snacks), and we all share those small, easy moments of joy — a great play, a plate of nachos disappearing too quickly, and the cat hiding under the couch, wondering why the humans are hollering again. I may not follow every stat or play, but I love how sports create reasons to pause, eat, laugh, and just be together — much like a shared meal from the garden or a neighborhood cookout.

A Different Kind of Teamwork

I sometimes joke that I traded my frisbee for a trowel and volleyball sand for garden soil, but the lessons stuck. Whether it’s tending tomatoes, playing pickup soccer with my kids in the yard, or cheering from the sidelines, the spirit of teamwork, joy, and shared stories keeps showing up.

In the end, community is the real team sport — and that’s one I’ll never retire from.

What’s one sport or shared activity that’s helped your community grow closer?

If this story made you smile, share it with a friend. Better yet, invite them over for a game-day snack and a laugh. Subscribe for more reflections on growing food, raising kids, and building community.

Finding Real Wealth: Why I’d Buy Back Time, Not Things, If I Won the Lottery

Daily writing prompt

What would you do if you won the lottery?

View all responses

If I won the lottery, I wouldn’t change much about my life—just the pace of it. The truth is, my dream life already unfolds in a kitchen filled with vegetables, laughter, and flour‑dusted hands.

I don’t often buy lottery tickets myself; they usually show up as small, easy gifts tucked into birthdays or holiday exchanges. Last Christmas, I received a couple of scratch‑offs and quickly realized I had no idea what I was doing. (Is there a secret club for people who actually understand those rules?) Somehow, by sheer guessing or luck, I ended up winning $25. A fun surprise, sure, but not what this prompt is really about.

The real question, I think, is this: What would you do if money were no longer a stressor?

Buying Back Time

For me, the answer is simple—I’d buy back more time. My husband and I have already been working toward that goal. We’re shaping a life that values time over convenience and connection over consumption. Not time to sit idly, but time to live more fully: to raise our children, grow our food, and slow down enough to notice the beauty in ordinary days.

We’ve traded convenience for satisfaction. I would much rather spend an hour chopping vegetables and stirring a pot beside my kids than spend that same hour working to afford a restaurant meal I didn’t make. There’s something grounding about cooking dinner on our stove while twilight settles outside the window, the kids laughing nearby as the kitchen fills with warmth and good smells. The meal may take longer, but the value of it lingers long after the dishes are done.

If Money Were No Object

If I suddenly didn’t have to think about money, I wouldn’t move away from this life—I’d sink deeper into it. I’d build a larger greenhouse to grow more food, not just for our family but to share seedlings and knowledge with neighbors. I’d host more community meals—the kind where tables are lined with mason jars of flowers, kids are chasing chickens through the yard, and conversations stretch long into the evening.

My husband would spend more time perfecting his model engines, patiently shaping each piece until it fits with quiet precision. And I’d write more—stories, reflections, maybe even a book about how cultivating food and family can teach us nearly everything we need to know about patience and abundance.

Real Wealth

We didn’t choose this way of living because it’s easier. We chose it because it reminds us what’s real: the joy of working with our hands, of hearing laughter drift through the kitchen, of eating something we grew from the soil beneath our feet.

Maybe the real prize isn’t a winning ticket—it’s the quiet wealth of growing food, raising kids, and building community.

If this story resonated with you, I’d love for you to join the conversation!

💬 Tell me in the comments—what would you do if money were no longer a worry?

💚 If you enjoyed this reflection, tap the ❤️, share it with a friend, and subscribe for new posts about growing food, raising kids, and building community.

Why I Read Survivor Stories About Strength and Hope

Daily writing prompt

What books do you want to read?

View all responses

Books shape us as much as we shape gardens or communities. They feed the mind, plant empathy, and remind us that resilience often grows in the darkest places.

When I saw today’s prompt — “What books do you want to read?” — I realized my answer says a lot about what kind of growth I’m craving this year. Reading has always been more than a pastime; it’s how I connect. Story time with my kids is sacred — we laugh, wonder, and sometimes ask big questions together. Once, I even read The Disaster Artist aloud to my husband, and we laughed so hard we cried. That joy lives in my memory like a cherished heirloom.

📚 Reading with the village

Beyond home, I gather monthly at our local library for book club — a lively mix of neighbors and new friends united by stories and snacks. We’ve been deep in historical fiction lately, stepping into lives far from our own. These evenings remind me that community grows naturally when people come together to wonder.

If you’re curious about what we’ve been reading together, I share highlights and reflections on my Book Club Reads page (this page contains affiliate links — I may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you, if you decide to purchase. Thank you for supporting Practical Homesteading!).

🌿 Why survivor stories call to me

Recently, I’ve found myself drawn to stories of survival — real people facing impossible odds and somehow finding light. Maybe it’s because they show not only how people survive, but why they choose to keep living.

Here are a few titles that top my list right now:

“Man’s Search for Meaning” by Viktor Frankl
A profound reflection on finding purpose even in suffering. Frankl’s insights from Auschwitz remind me that inner strength begins with meaning.

“Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage” by Alfred Lansing
Twenty-eight men trapped on Antarctic ice for more than a year — and every one of them survives. It’s a gripping lesson in leadership, loyalty, and hope against all odds.

“Jungle” by Yossi Ghinsberg
Still on my to-read list, this one explores what happens when you’re alone in the Amazon and survival depends on the mind as much as the body.

🌼 Lessons for everyday resilience

I hope I never face what these survivors endured, yet I read their stories to understand the quiet strength that grows inside us all. I want my children to see that resilience works like a garden — cultivated through patience, weathering storms, and trusting in renewal.

Reading reminds me that every family, every friendship, is its own kind of survival story. We move through hard seasons by leaning on one another and holding faith that winter won’t last forever.

“Endurance isn’t about toughness — it’s about purpose, compassion, and hope taking root in the hardest soil.”

So, as I grow food, raise kids, and build community, I’ll keep reading about people who found light when the world went dark. These stories keep me grounded — and remind me that, like a garden in spring, we can always begin again.

What about you — which story has taught you the most about resilience? Please share your book recommendations in the comments! I love to learn and grow with you!

🌱 If you enjoyed this reflection, don’t forget to like, share, and subscribe for more posts about growing food, raising kids, and building community — one story at a time.

Baking Bonds: How Family Food Traditions Keep Us Connected

Daily writing prompt

Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.

View all responses

The smell of baking bread can stop time. When the kitchen fills with warmth, sugar, and spice, it seems the whole family moves a little slower, drawn together by something deeper than hunger. That’s what I think of when I remember my mom making kranz kuchen every Christmas—a sweet, yeasted bread she learned from her mother, who learned it from hers before that. She’d fold the dough around a mixture of hickory nuts, dates, brown sugar, and cinnamon, the air turning rich and nostalgic. It wasn’t just a dessert; it was a way of remembering who we came from.

Those same values of care and connection shape the traditions in my own household. Now, instead of waiting for the holidays, we gather around the table almost every Saturday morning. I cook breakfast using our own pork and eggs, crisp hash browns, and pancakes that usually disappear faster than I can flip them. I grind my favorite coffee beans while the kids decide whether to help in the kitchen or sneak off to watch cartoons with my husband. Either way, we all end up at the table, taking our time to eat and talk before the day pulls us in different directions.

There’s something grounding about these small, consistent rituals. They connect us to the food we grow, to the rhythms of our home, and to the community around us. Sometimes we share extra bacon or a loaf of kranz kuchen with a neighbor, and that simple gesture feels like an extension of the same tradition—nourishing others with what we’ve made together.

Years from now, I hope my kids will remember these slow mornings not just for the taste of pancakes or the smell of coffee, but for the feeling of belonging that hung in the air. Family traditions, after all, are less about recipes and routines and more about growing love—with every loaf baked, every breakfast shared, every story passed down.

Do you have an heirloom recipe passed down through generations? I’d love to hear your version.

💛 If this story warmed your heart, please like and share it with someone who loves family and food.
🥚 Subscribe for more posts on growing food, raising kids, and building community—one meal at a time.

Winter Storybook Trail Walks: Family Magic at Horicon Marsh

What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

Lately, it’s storybook trail walks with the kids under winter stars. A true heart-soother.

Last week, we joined the WDNR candlelight walk at Horicon Marsh. Lanterns flickered against the frost. We crunched through chilly snow. We found laminated pages of a storybook trail. This one follows a bird-counting adventure. The kids’ eyes sparkled. They flipped each page tacked to tree stumps. Volunteers shared facts about animal furs and owls. It transformed a cold night into pure wonder.

Our cheeks were rosy from the chill. Hot cocoa afterward made it perfect. I’m so grateful for the people who work hard on these events. The book changes monthly. I make it a priority to bring the kids often. It blends nature, stories, and family beautifully.

What’s your favorite family free-time magic? Share below. Let’s swap winter ideas!

Loved this? Hit ❤️ like, share with a friend, and subscribe for more family nature adventures.

January 25, 2026

Honey Acres: The Farm I’ve Passed But Never Visited

Name an attraction or town close to home that you still haven’t got around to visiting.

From the backseat of family car trips, there was always this one honey farm that whispered promises I couldn’t chase yet.

That’s Honey Acres, about 60 miles northeast of Madison, Wisconsin. It’s a place with such a long, inviting driveway that had intrigued me for decades. And I’ve never paid a visit.

Every visit to my grandma’s house took us right past there. Those drives were full of my mom’s stories, the anticipation of Grandma’s hugs, and me with my nose pressed to the window, dying to know what was down that path. But as a kid, I had no say—we just zoomed by to get where we were going.

Then life happened. I moved away for 15 years. When I returned, I had another baby which came with endless tasks, and that familiar slide into “maybe later.” Honey Acres ended up in that sneaky category of places that feel close enough to visit anytime, which usually means they never happen. Diapers and deadlines have a way of burying those little curiosities.

But here’s the thing—it’s more than just a farm to me now. It connects all these chapters of my life: that wide-eyed kid in the backseat, the years away building something new, and now being home with my own little ones. It’s become a symbol of those small pauses we owe ourselves, the adventures waiting just beyond our daily routines.

So this year, I’m making it happen. We’re turning down that driveway, grabbing some jars of honey, letting the kids run around a bit, and finally answering a curiosity that’s been calling for way too long. Some places earn that time—not because they’ll be perfect, but because they’ve held space in our hearts for years.

Feature photo by Art Rachen on Unsplash.

What’s that one spot near you that’s been on your list forever? Share below—let’s make 2026 the year we finally go.

Felt that pull? Like if you’ve got a spot like this, share with local friends, subscribe for more WI family finds! What’s on your list? Drop it below 👇

January 24, 2026

Finding Fun in Everyday Homestead Life

Daily writing prompt

List five things you do for fun.

View all responses

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thanks for supporting Practical Homesteading!

Sometimes the best fun isn’t found in grand adventures—it’s tucked right into our everyday rhythms. Between planting seeds, raising small humans, and building community here in Wisconsin, I’ve learned that joy often hides in the ordinary moments we choose to notice.

When the WordPress prompt asked me to list five things I do for fun, I realized how naturally my favorite pastimes reflect the life I’m trying to build: creative, connected, and full of good food and laughter.

Reading: Pages That Connect Us

I love to read—both to my kids and for myself. There’s something magical about those bedtime moments when little voices beg for “just one more chapter,” and I happily oblige because I want to know what happens next too. Right now, we’re working through a beloved chapter book series, and I think I’m enjoying it as much as they are.

For my own reading, I recently joined a women’s book club here in town. It’s been such a gift—hearing other interpretations reminds me how stories have the power to connect us. One person reads about history; another sees deep family themes. That diversity of thought is what builds true community.

When I’m curled up with a good book, a cozy blanket, and a small light that doesn’t wake the kids, it feels like a quiet luxury. A few of my current favorites (plus the book light I love) are on my Book Club Reads (and Reading Essentials) list. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases at no extra cost to you.

Writing: Turning the Ordinary Into Art

In the same way, I love to write. Writing helps me slow down and see the beauty in the everyday—the way morning light hits a mixing bowl, the satisfaction of flour-dusted hands, the chaos and grace of raising small humans.

My goal through this blog is to encourage others to find meaning in the daily work of nurturing families, cooking homemade meals, and building connection. Writing also helps me process this season of life and celebrate imperfect progress—both mine and others’.

Cooking: Where Chemistry Meets Creativity

Cooking is my happy place. I’m not a fancy baker (my pies are usually more “rustic” than refined), but I love experimenting in the kitchen. Cooking feels like both art and chemistry—mixing what’s in season or what’s grown in the garden, testing new flavors, and seeing what happens.

Recently I brined a sirloin tip roast to make homemade corned beef, and it turned out phenomenal. Watching everyday ingredients transform into something delicious always fills me with joy. Whether I’m simmering soup from scratch or roasting vegetables from the garden, cooking feels like a conversation between the land, my hands, and the people I love.

Having the right tools makes all the difference—I’ve gathered my go-to cookware and cast-iron favorites on my Kitchen Essentials list.

Movies: Finding Magic in the Details

I also love movies. Not just watching them, but appreciating the creative effort behind them—the lighting, music, and editing choices that tell the story even without words.

I once toured the Warner Brothers studio in California, and seeing behind the scenes gave me a deep respect for the teamwork and imagination required to create movie magic. Now, when I watch films with my family, I see them differently. Add a bowl of homemade popcorn (made with our trusty popcorn maker!) and it’s one of our favorite cozy-night traditions.

Playing and Exploring: Getting Down to Their Level

And finally, I play—and explore—with my kids. We build towering pillow forts, race toy cars, and make snow angels when Wisconsin winter delivers a fresh blanket.

I also make it a point to keep exploring myself. We visit the beach in summer, wander through new museums nearby, and plan one or two short trips a year. Those small adventures keep us curious and connected, reminding me that fun doesn’t have to be far away. It just has to be intentional.

There’s something humbling and wonderful about getting down to their level, whether that means chasing waves or lying in the snow laughing. When we share those moments, I’m reminded that joy grows in the same soil as gratitude.

These five (and a half!) things might seem simple. But reading, writing, cooking, movies, playing, and exploring together they create a life rooted in creativity, connection, and care. Whether I’m turning pages, turning phrases, or turning ingredients into dinner, every moment adds to the bigger picture. Growing food, raising kids, and building community here at home.

What are your favorite small pleasures that make everyday life feel fun? I’d love to hear what fills your family’s days with laughter and joy.

❤️ Enjoyed this post?

If you love finding beauty in everyday homestead life, make sure to like, share, and subscribe for fresh posts on growing food, raising kids, and building community. Your support helps our little online homestead grow!

What I’d Tell My Homestead Turkeys: You’re Safe Here

If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Thanks for supporting Practical Homesteading!

Every morning, our little homestead stirs to life—snorts, clucks, rustles, and all. The pigs grunt impatiently for breakfast, the chickens dart around my boots like gossipy toddlers, and the black cat takes her morning post on the fence, tail flicking in quiet judgment.

And then there are the turkeys—watching from their enclosure, eyes wide, feathers puffed, too afraid to venture near the very hands that feed and bed them.

If I could make my animals understand just one thing, I’d tell them, “You are safe and valued, every single day you’re here.”

The truth is, one day we will butcher the turkeys. That’s part of the rhythm of the homestead life—raising animals with respect, giving them good days filled with deep bedding, and ensuring they’re never hungry or afraid. But that doesn’t make their time here any less meaningful. It actually makes the responsibility deeper. If they could understand one thing, I’d want them to know that their days matter. That their comfort matters. That I’m grateful for the life they live and the life they’ll one day give .

The pigs already seem to get it. They’ll eat, play, and then flop into straw with satisfied sighs, blissfully unbothered by anything beyond their next meal. The chickens scurry and squawk, confident in the routine they’ve built around their 25 lb self-feeder (affiliate link) and DIY 5-gallon bucket waterer (affiliate link). Even Black Cat, aloof as he pretends to be, knows he belongs to this rhythm—this gently imperfect, beautifully grounded life we share .

That’s what sustainability really means to me—caring deeply, even when the hard parts come. I can’t explain to my animals that I love them, that I worry about them on cold nights, or that I always want their lives to be good ones. But I can show it. Through full buckets, soft hay, and calm voices. Through care that doesn’t need translation.

Because this life, this work, is built on gratitude—on giving more than we take, and honoring every part of the cycle that feeds us. And if my animals could understand that, even for a moment, it would be enough.

If your animals could understand one truth, what would you tell them? Comment below 👇

Did this post resonate with you? Like if you farm with heart, share with your homesteading crew, subscribe for real farm wisdom!

The Story Behind My Name: From “Face” to Embracing Faith

Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.

As the last of six girls, I drew the “leftover” name that ended up rewriting my story.

Faith was not the name my parents had planned—because they hadn’t planned any name at all. The night I was born, my mom kept suggesting options and my dad kept turning them down. Nothing felt quite right. Then my mom suggested Faith, adding almost offhandedly, “Everyone needs a little Faith.” This time, my dad didn’t argue. Just like that, Faith became mine.

For years, I didn’t love that origin story. My name felt too different, too noticeable. On the phone, if I said it too fast, people would ask me to repeat it or guess something else entirely. One child dubbed me “Face” in a moment of childhood brilliance. That pretty much summed up how I felt—misheard, slightly awkward, and more than a little self-conscious about a name that drew attention I didn’t want.

Names have a way of catching up with you, though. As I got older, I started to sit with the meaning of Faith. At its simplest, it means “belief in something greater than yourself.” That “something greater” is different for everyone—God, the universe, a calling, a purpose, or even the quiet conviction that life can be better than it is today. There is a tenderness in that idea, a kind of built-in hope. My name stopped feeling like an odd label and started feeling more like an invitation.

Faith, on its own, doesn’t magically fix anything. Belief without action can easily turn into wishful thinking. But when you pair faith with hard work, grit, and determination, it becomes a powerful force. It keeps you moving when the path is unclear. It nudges you to try again after a setback. It whispers that the effort is still worth it, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed .

Now, when I introduce myself, I do it with a little more warmth toward that younger version of me who cringed at her own name. I carry a word that reminds me daily to look beyond what I can see, to trust that there is more possible than what is obvious, and to keep showing up and doing the work anyway.

Everyone may not need me, exactly—but everyone does need a little faith. And somehow, over the years, that has become something I’m proud to embody.

Feature photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash

What’s the story behind your name? Share below—let’s uncover what we carry .

Loved this? Like if names move you, share your story with family, subscribe for more heart-to-heart wisdom! What’s behind your name? Tell us below 👇

Related Posts

Learning to Let Go: Saying Goodbye to Our Homestead and Pond

The Courage to Belong

Related Posts

The Booyah Curling Club: Finding Community in Unexpected Places

Homestead Longevity Habits: Growing Food, Raising Kids, Real Life

We’re Stronger Together: Homesteading, Family, and the Power of a Village

Related Posts

My Mission: Growing Food, Raising Kids, and Building Community — A Path Back to Connection

Why I Chose Homesteading

Homemade Family Breakfast with Child Sous Chefs (Hashbrowns, Sausage, Eggs)

Related Posts

Winter Storybook Trail Walks: Family Magic at Horicon Marsh

Raising Curious Kids: Travel Dreams From the Backseat

From Ghost Ships to Dragons: Growing a Family of Readers

Related Posts

Holiday Traditions That Root Us: Family, Food, and Connection on the Homestead

Homemade Family Breakfast with Child Sous Chefs (Hashbrowns, Sausage, Eggs)

Biggest Garden Yet: Lessons, Laughs, and Pig-Approved Produce

Related Posts

My Mission: Growing Food, Raising Kids, and Building Community — A Path Back to Connection

A Short Drive to Heaven: Why Lake Michigan Wins for Us

Homemade Family Breakfast with Child Sous Chefs (Hashbrowns, Sausage, Eggs)

Related Posts

More Than a Meal: Raising Our Own Thanksgiving Turkeys

I Never Wanted Pigs Until They Changed My Homestead Life

Feathers, Frogs, and Family: Lessons from Our Chickens

Related Posts

From Nerves to Connection: Lessons from a Lifetime of Public Speaking

The Worst Resort Ever: How My Family Turned Crisis Into Connection and Gratitude

My Mission: Growing Food, Raising Kids, and Building Community — A Path Back to Connection

Category: Uncategorized

The Scariest Button I Click

The Drafts That Wait

What It Would Take

Growing Braver

Related Posts

A Game of Connection

Back When I Played

The Knee Incident (and Das Boot)

Watching Now, Not Playing

From Tailgates to Home Games

A Different Kind of Teamwork

Related Posts

Buying Back Time

If Money Were No Object

Real Wealth

Related Posts

📚 Reading with the village

🌿 Why survivor stories call to me

🌼 Lessons for everyday resilience

Related Posts

Related Posts

Reading: Pages That Connect Us

Writing: Turning the Ordinary Into Art

Cooking: Where Chemistry Meets Creativity

Movies: Finding Magic in the Details

Playing and Exploring: Getting Down to Their Level

Related Posts

Related Posts

Related Posts