Goats are just a whole ‘nother animal. Since COVID, there have been a lot of people who have become backyard chicken farmers. That’s how I kind of got started on this whole journey myself. Chickens are a wonderful starter farm animal. They’re pretty easy. They need a coop, enough space for the number of birds in the flock, food to eat, grass to peck, water, and safety from predators. Basically. You could definitely get grand and build a Taj Mahal chicken coop with curtains and fancy feeders and waterers, but that’s not really my style. Don’t get me wrong; my chickens are pampered, and I get compliments from farm visitors on how beautiful my birds are, and I take great pride in their care and the quality of their eggs. But even so, chickens are pretty basic farm animals.

But goats. Oh, boy. Had I known then what I know now, I might have been too afraid to get into goat farming. Goats, even as adults, are like three-year-old children. They know just enough about the world to be a handful. They’re stubborn, mischievous, and irrational, and they certainly know how to throw a tantrum. They’re also incredibly endearing, hilarious, and fun. I don’t think that goats are for everyone, and I’ve learned a lot of lessons the hard way, but I wouldn’t change that we jumped in with both feet and decided to go for it. Sometimes blind optimism is the only way forward, or something like that. Definitely some faith mixed in there. Here’s my recipe for buying goats:

1 handful of optimism

2 dashes of hope

1 pinch of faith

1 truckload of research

1 heartful of grit

Several bushels of crazy

I tell people I have chickens, and they say, “Oh, that’s fun!” Or, “Me too!” I tell people I have goats, and more often than not, the first response is, “Why??”

For us, it’s a few factors.

Sustainability is one of them. Amidst supply chain issues and social chaos, it’s nice to live with the knowledge that I have milk to drink. We have chickens for the same reason: eggs to eat. That’s why I started a garden during quarantine. With all the anxiety over what the future held, growing a garden wasn’t just something fun to do with the kids. It was a hope that we’d have food to eat if everything else went haywire.

Being able to take care of ourselves has been a huge catalyst in starting this whole adventure. Some people call it self-sufficiency, but I know that’s kind of a misnomer when you’re a person of faith. I wouldn’t call it that. I think of it as being prepared and storing grain the way that Joseph helped save both Egypt and Israel from famine. Plan, prepare, and ultimately trust God to meet your needs.

There’s the fun factor. I think that goes without saying. Goats are incredibly fun. Watching them frolic about the pasture, doing their goaty things. Their antics never get old.

Another factor is the education we’re giving our children. There’s just some things you can’t learn from a book. Sometimes it’s about doing it and learning from experience. Getting your own hands dirty.

Our kids love the goats. They love this farm life. That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard, because it is, but it’s worth it. We are all learning so much about life, the value of hard work, the value of personal strength, and reaping a reward for what we have sown.

Another factor is the character development. Admittedly, going into this we didn’t know just how much that would be part of it, but it has spawned personal growth in all of us. We have all gained farming knowledge and physical strength, and most of all, we have leaned harder into our faith when tragedy has struck. And in farming, there’s always some sort of hardship waiting around the bend. It’s just inevitable. Especially when you’ve never done this type of thing before. The learning curve is steep. It’s not for the faint of heart. And where I wanted to turn back, when I wanted to quit, I had to dig in my heels and reach deep into my faith to keep going.

We are in this. There’s no turning back.

It’s a lot like my walk with Jesus. You jump in with both feet, praising, overjoyed at the salvation you have found in Him. Oh, the joy! That’s still just as true today as it ever was when I found Jesus at the age of sixteen, probably more so. But the longer I’ve walked, the steeper the climb, the deeper the valleys, and sometimes the darker the nights, have become.

That’s never been more true than when my father ripped apart our family. Or the isolation and loneliness of quarantine and acting as a single mom during my hubby’s stateside deployment. Or when my best friend turned her back on me. Or when an entire community of dearly loved friends I considered a second family betrayed me. Or when my favorite little baby goat, affectionately named T-shirt, unexpectedly and inexplicably died in my arms. Or when our livestock guardian dog got into the chicken yard and killed chicks, some of which I had hatched from incubated eggs. Those memories are still hard, still bring tears, still bring back waves of pain and grief. But those are scars that are a part of my story. And I can’t unwrite those pages. They are mine. They are real. And no matter what, they have shaped me. They have pointed me back to my faith in God – even when I thought my faith was all dried up and dead – because He’s the only One holding all things together.

There’s no turning back. Not in farming. Certainly not in faith.