After being a couple for over twenty years (and married for nearly fourteen of them) at this point, my husband knew that he was about to hear something intriguing, but I don’t know if he knew it would be this.

A little insight into my husband:

He has always been adventurous, ready and willing to, as he says, “ride the river” with me. For most of our married life, until recently, this river had been more like a stream. Not that our life was mundane or sad, but realistically it had become a lot closer to that of the typical nine-to-five grind of middle-class America. We were happy, but we were just sort of living the life we had in front of us. It had never really occurred to me until the pandemic that I could do something different and that that was okay. He has always been a bit more wild at heart than most other people I know.

He has always wanted a wild life, one of adventure, of faith-filled pursuits, leaps off the edge of impossible. I have always been hesitant and resistant to that type of life; when we married, I wanted a quiet life in a suburban house with our family close by – nothing crazy, nothing too outlandish. Mostly I was controlled by my fear of the unknown. Too afraid to take the jump off the cliff with him. Too anxious over all the possible ramifications of a life unmanicured. That all kind of went out the window with COVID.

So many people have experienced tragedy, pain, suffering, and inexplicable grief during this pandemic. For that, my heart goes out to you, and there just aren’t words for that kind of pain. I am so sorry. I can only share my heart and what I’ve learned as I, too, have walked a road of grief.

Prior to the pandemic, my extended family faced tragedy like we’d never known, and the last four years have been the deepest valley I have ever walked. All of these things were compounded by the pandemic. It has taken tears, anger at God, anger at everyone and everything, railing against the sky, grace, prayer, support, therapy, and time to get to a place of peace and freedom at this point in my life.

Our family as a whole is still wrestling with the ramifications of my father’s choices, and this post is not about that, specifically, but please know that when I talk about COVID as a sort of blessing, I’m not saying that it isn’t also a tragedy. Because it is. It is absolutely devastating and tragic. And however you’re feeling right now as a result of that is absolutely valid.

For me, the pandemic, our extended family tragedy, and the struggles our smaller family unit faced were all catalysts that ultimately launched my family into the life we have now, and what bloomed out of the ashes is nothing short of a blessing.

I am a woman of faith. That doesn’t mean I am perfect, and that doesn’t mean I haven’t wrestled with God. If you were privy to my prayer life, my journals, and my deepest inner monologues, you’d see that at times I can be downright ugly. Certainly not always the picture of Christian grace and mercy. Definitely not always faithful to the beliefs I say I hold. Sometimes faith is ugly. It’s often tough. There are certainly times I’ve wanted to give up. Times I didn’t think God was there, or that He cared. Faith can be a struggle. But there’s also this: it’s always worth it. And no matter what, God is worthy. He is good. I believe that. That’s just where I’m coming from, and my faith shapes my worldview. Looking at tragedy through that prism changes everything for me. If I hadn’t walked through all the hardships of my life, COVID included, with that worldview, I believe I could have ended up in an entirely different place – maybe not a physically different place, but certainly a spiritually and emotionally different place.

Knowing my husband’s desire for adventure, it shouldn’t be a stretch to think that he’d want to spread out a little, buy some land, have a bit more autonomy without the dictations of city ordinances and neighborhood covenants. This has always been something he’s longed for deep down; he just never thought he’d have it. He had given up on the idea long ago, since he basically married, for lack of a better term, a city girl. Or at least someone who didn’t want to be outside much and didn’t see the benefit of putting her hands in the dirt. It was a pipe dream for twenty years. And then I said those words: “Hubby, I’ve been thinking…”

And everything changed.

What came next was my idea that we should sell our starter house (that we’d been living in for over eight years), move out to the country, and buy land. “I’m sorry; you want to – what now?”

“It’s getting too crowded here. Subdivisions, businesses, road crowding, population growth. There are so many people here now, and where we originally purchased our house – it used to be considered rural. Now it’s becoming mainstream.”

I made my argument, but it didn’t take much convincing. He just had to sit down for a minute and make sure he was hearing me right. His self-proclaimed city girl wife wanted to move to the country and buy land.

“What do you want to do with the land?” was his next question.

Well – buy more chickens, for one. (Chicken math, remember?)

“Oh, and also, I want goats.”