motherhood – Practical Homesteading

Growing Where We’re Planted: Moving Closer to Family and Letting Go of Fate

Do you believe in fate/destiny?

No, I really don’t believe in fate or destiny. I don’t think anyone’s life is completely prewritten. Our paths are shaped by the choices we make, the help we accept, and the way we respond when things get messy. Still, some circumstances are stronger than our willpower alone, and none of us can do it without support — from faith, family, or good friends who remind us we’re not alone.

## A Family Move That Tested Our Strength

A few years ago, my husband and I decided we wanted to live closer to our families, who were about two hours away. We were rooted on an 18-acre homestead — beautiful but not easy to leave behind. I was pregnant at the time and caring for our three-year-old, running on fumes while my husband carried most of the physical load.

He managed the heavy lifting and trips back and forth, while I coordinated with the real estate agent, cleaned, packed, transferred doctors, and researched schools. It was exhausting work, physically and mentally. Change doesn’t always feel like courage — sometimes, it’s just stubbornness and persistence one long day after another.

## Lessons in Change and Support

Through countless trips, family help, and many take‑out dinners, we finally made the move. Looking back, that season taught me how much support truly matters when facing big life changes. We can often change more than we think — and when we can’t, we can still find ways to live fully in the situation we’re in.

That perspective has shaped how I understand personal growth and mindset. The biggest shifts often happen quietly — in how we think, what we choose to let go of, and how we lean on the people who love us. Growth doesn’t always look graceful; sometimes it’s just persistence disguised as survival.

## Finding Peace Through the Serenity Prayer

When I reach the limits of what I can control, I take comfort in the serenity prayer. It reminds me to seek the courage to change what I can, the grace to accept what I can’t, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Maybe that’s not destiny at all — maybe it’s the steady, imperfect work of growing where we’re planted and finding grace along the way.

Feature Photo by Alicia Christin Gerald on Unsplash

How do you think about fate versus choice in your own life? Have you ever made a big move or change like this?

I’d love to hear your story in the comments—what helped you get through a season of big transition?

If this story resonated with you, please tap the like button, leave a comment, or share it with a friend who’s facing a big life change. Your support helps this little corner of the internet grow.

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March 1, 2026

Life Lessons from Hard Seasons: Motherhood, Drought, and Growing Community

Daily writing prompt

How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?

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Life Lessons from Seasons of Change

Life’s big shifts and slow seasons have humbled me more than I ever expected. These hard seasons have become some of my deepest life lessons.

When I was younger, I believed effort alone could fix anything. If plans fell apart, I figured someone just wasn’t trying hard enough—or doing things the right way—maybe even me. There was real arrogance in that. I thought sheer willpower could bend the world to my plans.

What a Drought Taught Me About Letting Go

Then came the hard stops: moments no amount of grit could move. A garden lost to drought after I had my first child taught me that lesson faster than any sermon.

No extra watering, no wishing, no late-night worrying brought back the harvest. That loss showed me surrender—not as giving up, but as meeting reality honestly and carrying only what’s mine. I still remember the cracked soil under my hands and the quiet ache of knowing this hard season of motherhood wasn’t mine to fix with effort alone.

Finding Balance in Parenting and Daily Chaos

These days, when chaos and noise fill the house or the coop, I pause instead of pushing harder. “What’s mine to carry?” has become a quiet mantra in these hard seasons of parenting.

Boundaries, deep breaths, even tears—they build me back stronger. And honestly, I need those reminders often. These everyday moments are teaching me life lessons from the garden and the home, one small surrender at a time.

Building Community Through Grace and Compassion

Love feels different now, too. Gentler. I see the hidden weight in others—a neighbor worn thin, another parent stretching through a long week—and grace comes quicker.

Community grows in those moments when compassion replaces judgment. Some days that looks like sharing a meal. Other days, it’s just listening without trying to fix. In their own way, these conversations are building community in hard times, one honest story at a time.

Growing Through Time, Trust, and Faith

Time weaves it all together—naivety to trust, effort to faith. The seasons remind me that everything sprouts, fades, and returns in its own time, even in our hard seasons of life.

My job is to show up faithfully—to tend what I can, raise my kids with patience, and keep building a life that roots deeply in love and community. These are the life lessons from hard seasons that shape how I move through the world now.

Feature Photo by Natalia Gasiorowska on Unsplash

How have your hard seasons changed you? I’d love to hear how time has softened or strengthened your own soil—share in the comments below.

If this resonated with you, please like and share this post so it can reach another tired parent or neighbor who needs a gentler story today.

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Next Read: “The chore that never gets done (and Why that’s ok)” → https://homesteadsustainably.com/the-chore-that-never-gets-done

February 4, 2026

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.

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