In the first post of this series, I simply told the story. In the second post, I shared some of the quieter aftermath — the lack of words, the pulling back, and the slow realization that I needed to bring my emotions to God instead of holding them in.

Now, looking back, I can see how God was strengthening something in me I didn’t even realize was weak.

This final post is about what He taught me in the process. I’ll reference parts of the injury and recovery, but gently.

Lean Into Laughter

At times, all I could do was laugh. The opposite was tears, and I was tired of those. Laughter truly is some of the best medicine.

The night of the accident, I will never forget running around the house and into the shop to find materials Jason could remake his temporary splint with. I’m pretty sure my eyes bulged when he first told me his plan. The splint dried in a way that left his wrist bent in a very uncomfortable, painful position.

I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, but I was also exhausted, and adrenaline was still surging. I just wanted to sit down and try to process what the injuries meant. Instead, I was grabbing paint sticks, wood toy blocks, foam, and super glue. Have I mentioned he has a machinist background? Lol

At some point, I started laughing over the absurdity of it all and felt better.

The removable pins in his finger looked like big white bug eyes sticking out of his hand. It was unnerving at first, but with six weeks to go, we needed to adapt. After Jason made the first joke about them, it broke the ice for us to feel more relaxed in talking about the pins.

There were several points throughout where we just laughed about things. And maybe it wasn’t even about the accident, but about the kids doing something funny, or turning some issue with the house into a joke, perhaps even telling ourselves we would look back on this one day with humor or appreciate the unexpected way God chose to get our attention.

When you don’t know what else to do,  just try laughing. 

Healing Takes Time

Obviously physical healing of the injury takes time. However, the mental/emotional injury takes time to heal as well. In some cases, this may take even longer than the physical aspect. 

I can’t speak for Jason, but I can tell you I was a mess the first several weeks. The day after the accident, there was more tree trimming to do before equipment was returned. As helpers made the first pull of the chainsaw, I almost lost my breakfast. It was too much, too soon, and yet I knew it needed to be done.

It was very hard to get my body to re-regulate. I physically felt a tension, similar to an adrenaline rush, for a long time. It left me tired, snappy, and stressed.

When the removable pins got infected and the antibiotics made Jason sick, it was like my body started processing the initial injury all over again. Just after the soft cast was removed, I felt all sorts of unpleasantness over the visual reminders he would always have. 

During therapy the progress seemed slow, and I became nervous. His hand was still swollen a month later and nothing seemed to help reduce it permanently. It was a relief to discover a possible cause, (Some of the flesh on the biggest laceration was too mangled to use. This meant the surrounding skin had to be pulled unnaturally tight to close.) We were grateful to know how to work with it, but I’ll admit, it made me squeamish to massage the scar tissue at first.

As December approached, I could feel my body was holding onto things. Even though the pins had been removed, stitches were gone, and skin was healing, something inside me was hanging on.

I was reminded of something I learned years ago in Bessel Van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score — that our bodies hold onto trauma in all sorts of fascinating and frustrating ways.

So, I began to pray that God would help release whatever was needed.

Trauma: Big T, Little t

As I waited to see how God would work, I reminded myself it was ok to call what I was experiencing trauma. I didn’t at first, because it felt dramatic and silly.

I recently read a description of trauma that made a lot of sense to me. No, he didn’t lose his hand, he didn’t die, he didn’t spend weeks in the hospital – those could be considered Trauma with a big “T”. 

However, that doesn’t negate that what happened was still a huge event for him, for me, our kids, that our lives were altered, and that my body was struggling to process – those could be called trauma with a little “t”.

We don’t always get to choose how our body responds to stress. God answered my prayer of release in a few different ways.

I have always been a visual person. One thing I struggled with specifically, was vivid recalls of certain moments flashing before my eyes.

As I was getting ready one morning, pictures of Jason stumbling through the field kept surfacing. My body reacted just as it had the night of the accident — but it ended with dry heaving. Although I found this unusual, I felt emotionally lighter, and it hasn’t happened since.

Another morning I was reading my Christmas Advent devotional. It had beautiful watercolor artwork throughout. This particular day the artwork was dark red peonies. My mind automatically flashed to the crimson stains on clothing and towels that shouldn’t have been. I sat in the chair with tears streaming down my face for a couple of minutes. Again, it felt unusual, but I felt another level of lightness.

I thought I was doing pretty good until I decided to share some of this story and sat down to write. My entire body tensed, hands felt shaky, stomach turned, it was like a small current of energy thrummed through my body. 

It was then I knew putting this on paper would also be part of my healing process. And it has been. Each time I’ve sat down to write, those physical feelings have abated. The visual slideshows have significantly decreased and I feel more at peace.

Trust Is a Choice

Perhaps the biggest thing God revealed to me in all of this, was that I needed to make a choice. I could continue to question and doubt and spiral, or I could toss those thoughts aside, and choose to trust Him.

For me, that was hard.

On many levels, I knew I needed to lean into my faith. But man was that difficult.

For a couple months, it felt like things just kept falling further apart. Despite my prayers, the prayers of others, and the work put forth. 

Somedays, I actually asked God if He was still for us. 

Deep down, I knew the answer. Of course He was. Many times throughout the Bible we’re reminded God will never leave us or forsake us. 

And so, I had to constantly make a choice. 

Would I choose to trust God, His plan, His timing? Or would I choose to muster through on my own fleeting strength? 

Let me tell you, the latter just led to a deeper, darker pit.

I had to bring myself to a place of truly surrendering any outcome and letting go of any semblance of control to fully trust God.

Was it scary at times? For sure! But there was also this sweet sense of comfort.

Even when it makes the least sense and requires great effort, choosing to trust God has always brought me closer to Him.

Friends, thank you for being here and allowing me further healing by sharing this story with you. I hope something here has been helpful for you.

I continue to be amazed at God’s grace and provision as we keep taking small steps forward. 

Life looks different, but in a good way. God knew what Jason and I needed, and while the circumstances were not what I would have chosen, I am thankful, because I have definitely grown closer to the Lord through it all. 

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But honestly, if you would have asked me how I felt about my faith the first two months, I’m not sure how I would have answered. 

Was God still good? For others, yes. For me (us), it didn’t seem like it.

It was an exhausting time of trying to manage the kids’ emotions and reactions, figuring out how best to support Jason, starting our homeschool year, finishing up the gardens, and starting and finishing the fall beef harvest on the farm.

Then there was deciding how to notify business customers that there would be a major delay – all on top of the normal day to day “mom” things. 

There wasn’t much bandwidth for quiet time, let alone my morning walks with God in the woods, which has always helped ground me.

Many days, I was happy to put the kids to bed without breaking down in front of them (doing it in private felt safer.)

For a while it felt like blow after blow. 

While Jason was in recovery after his surgery, I heard the dreaded words no one wants to hear. I was anticipating them since surgery went longer than expected. But it was still a sucker punch to hear, “I’m sorry, unfortunately there was more damage than we thought.” 

The room tilted as I held my breath, realizing I would have to be the one to break it to Jason when he woke up. Not one or two, but four tendons had been severed, which explained why he could only move his thumb. Some of them rolled back quite a ways, so the incision went farther up his forearm and wrist than planned. 

The removable pins portion of surgery went well and everything was stable there.

Therapy was required and would start after the soft cast came off, with an anticipated recovery of six months.

Now, Jason works with his hands in just about every aspect of life. At his regular job, he works with machines and does machinist things. His side business is custom wood working. We live on a farm with animals, in an older house. Hands are a necessity.

It was hard to imagine what life, let alone finances, would look like with this setback.

As I struggled to process the eight million things going through my mind (normally just one million), there were a few things I found helpful.

It’s Ok Not to Have Words

I became really good at saying something to the effect of, “I’m not sure.” As a logistical planner, who thrives on organization and researching to have sound answers, this was completely new and hard for me.

Our lives were filled with so many well intentioned people, who truly cared, that questions became inevitable no matter where we went. 

But the honest truth was – I didn’t always have an answer. 

When would daddy get better? Why did this happen to daddy? Why is daddy groaning? What is this discharge? Should we go back in? Is this a normal reaction to antibiotics? When will the orders be ready? How will these outdoor projects get wrapped up before winter? What happens if the short-term disability doesn’t cover monthly costs?

At first, I felt guilty not having solid information to share. Especially to the kiddos who were looking to me to have it together, to help them process, and to say everything would be ok. 

Would it all be ok? Yes. I just wasn’t sure when or how.

Somewhere along the way, I came to grips with not having all the answers. Once I let my desire to be in control and know the plan fall to the way side, providing vague answers stopped bothering me as much.

Even so, I eventually became burned out and withdrew.

It’s Ok to Withdraw – For a While

As a mom and wife, I felt a certain sense of pressure to always be on/available, to maintain the status quo in the house. 

As a Christ follower attending church, I gave polite, standard answers. Yes, we were doing fine. Yes, we’re thankful it wasn’t worse. Yes, we’re managing. 

As a family member, I shared more information, but it was usually about Jason and the kids. 

As a friend, I didn’t have much energy left, so I began avoiding tough (for me) conversations and deflecting. Then, I started giving them the same rote replies I gave others. 

Withdrawing for a time is helpful – if it’s done thoughtfully – but I was on the verge of the opposite.

It took a couple of weeks for me to realize I wasn’t balancing the withdrawal well. Soon, my plain Jane answers were being given to everyone, even the kiddos.

Two of my close friends were the first to notice. Pulling away from the safe space they offered was rather silly. I didn’t have to pretend with them, have all the answers, or look put together. I could just be and they would accept it.

So why was I withdrawing from people who just wanted to lift me up?

In a way, I think I was in some sort of self-preservation mode. 

But I was also re-learning how to take my heaviest emotions to God.

Feelings to God First

On the scant mornings I was able to get a walk in, they looked extremely different. 

Gone was the litany of praises, seeing God in nature, tears of joy, praying with the cattle, and coveting the whisper of wind in my hair.

Instead, angry words filled the air, tears of despair fell, prayer felt flat, and the inevitable gloomy skies on those days wrapped me like a cloak.

I had a lot to tell God.

The accident itself was enough. So what was with the continuing fall out? 

Lord, don’t you remember I had a conversation with Jason literally the night before his accident that I wanted our lives to slow down? That there was too much? That I needed a break?

Some break you gave me!

There was the gut wrench when the soft cast was removed and we saw the lacerations along with the incisions for the first time since surgery. A railroad track is what came to my mind.

Then, the right pin on his finger got infected. After going back and forth for a few days an antibiotic was prescribed. 

The antibiotic made Jason extremely sick. He lost what energy he did have along with 10 pounds in two days. 

When that one seemed to clear up, the left pin got infected.

Therapy was progressing slowly. 

Finances grew thinner.

Why God, why?

In my exhaustion and frustration, I had forgotten to talk with God. Sure, I was “talking at” him, but I was often too spent to pause and listen for a response. 

What I shared with God was ugly and raw. I’m so thankful He’s a gracious, forgiving and loving Father. I’m also thankful I didn’t spew all those words to anyone else.

In the following weeks, as life developed a new cadence, I was able to squeeze in more walking and something started to change.

I’ve been through enough counseling to know it’s not healthy to hold things in. 

And God knew what my heart was really feeling anyway, so why hold back?

The more I was completely honest with God, the easier the conversations became. They slowly turned from angry lashed out words, to desperate pleas for help, to noticed surroundings, to offers of gratitude. 

Once I got to the point where I could see God’s provision for our family, my relationship with Him made new strides.

Things were not wrapped up with a pretty pink bow yet, but it was easier to trust God again. 

With that, the real rebuilding could begin.

In the final post for this story, I’ll share what God taught me. I won’t say healing is complete yet considering how my body has reacted to just writing these posts. 

However, God is good and I have faith in Him and His timing.

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That was me last August. 

*Before you continue reading, just a heads-up that this story touches on a traumatic season in our family, including injury and emotional struggle. I’ve shared honestly, but with care and without graphic detail.

What started as a project day full of excitement because we had “big equipment” home and were taking care of a problem tree turned into catastrophe in the final stretches.

This was not any tree. We think it was on the property from the beginning. Over 130 years ago. The soft maple, over five feet in diameter, had been losing life for a while. Just a couple months prior, a two foot thick limb broke off and landed where we parked our vehicles.

By God’s grace, my SUV was in the autoshop otherwise it would have been totaled (never so thankful for a repair bill). The truck had several new dents, dings, and a few missing trim pieces, but was still operable.

That was “the last straw,” so we arranged to rent some equipment, gathered some helping hands, and planned to remove the offending maple tree.

The day had been progressing well and everything was running smoothly. Some new friends stopped by and the kids were enjoying play time in the back yard. The monstrous maple was gone. It was pretty much hollow inside, and boy, did the front yard look different!

There were a few other branches in the same area, not nearly as high to trim up, so the guys moved ahead to the next spot, just next to the pasture. 

Up went the basket, trimmed a branch, used hand signals to direct positioning, trimmed another branch, more hand signals. 

Then like some nightmare the entire lift tipped forward in slow motion – with my husband in the basket, not realizing what was happening.

By the time he turned around to question the positioning of the basket, it was too late.

From where I was standing, I couldn’t quite see all that transpired next. 

Just a sinking feeling in my gut after realizing he hadn’t been able to jump off soon enough. 

The kids saw everything and ran away screaming.

I started to run forward, saw Jason stumbling through the field, his right hand holding onto his left in an unusual way, gray face, crimson fabric and liquid in places it shouldn’t be.

A helping neighbor got to him faster, so I hightailed it into the house to gather:

• my purse & phone
• towels (grabbed a kitchen one, chucked it on the floor, this called for a bath towel)
• apple (anticipating a blood sugar cash, funny what you think of)
• water (couldn’t easily grab one, moving on)

My hands were trembling profusely as I slid into the driver’s seat, fumbling to grab the phone out of my purse so the person riding with us could call ahead. 

Jason asked if I was ok to drive. I paused, asked God to be my hands and feet and tossed my phone in the back. I pulled into reverse with steady hands, and focused on listening to his breathing to mitigate hyperventilating if needed, which it was. (Jason mentioned later that my years racing were not lost. It might have been noted I was cresting three digits on some corners. It’s amazing how your brain flips a switch.)

The next several hours were a blur between waiting, poking and prodding, x-rays, me praying Jason wouldn’t pass out, me walking away so I wouldn’t toss my cookies, more waiting, lots of questions. 

What happened? Short story- the full weight of everything (basket, boom, lift itself) had crushed his left hand in a way that bent his wrist into an unnatural position.

Could he move all his fingers? No. Only his thumb.

Was there feeling in all the fingers? Yes, praise God!

Did we know what the white thing sticking out of the wrist laceration was? Yes – we’ve butchered enough animals to know it was a tendon.

Could we guess the finger was broken? Yes – the open laceration there made it fairly obvious.

There’s also a bone chip missing on the ulna. Ok.

Did we understand a specialist would probably be needed and we’d be sent home with superficial stitches just to keep things together enough? Um, yep.

Ok, then, they’ll call you sometime Monday to schedule an appointment. Super.

Amazingly, no other bones were broken, just massive amounts of swelling and bruising.

The initial appointment with the specialists went much the same. It was obvious one tendon was severed. Exploratory surgery could be an option if we wanted it, which we absolutely did since he still couldn’t move the majority of his fingers. 

We went home and waited another couple days for surgery, praying for minimal damage and quick recovery.

Although this was probably the tip of the iceberg, it didn’t feel as hard as what followed after surgery five days later. That’s really where the anchors of my faith were tested.

It’s really easy to claim we have faith and demonstrate it when life’s waters are placid. 

It’s a whole nother thing, when rippling waves emerge and then turn into crashing tidal waves.

I’m not sharing this story for pity or personal attention. If anything, you’ll see how I fell short in many ways.

But I do want to draw attention to God and His presence, which prevented me from drowning.

Being on the other side now, there are several things I’d love to share with you that helped me along the way. Things that made holding onto faith through trauma a blessing in disguise for me.  

In the next couple posts, I’ll share the various stages of emotional healing I went through, how all of this ultimately strengthened my faith, ways I saw God provide, and why I waited a while to share this story. 

Thank you for allowing me this space to share!

P.S. If you don’t want to miss the next posts, you’re welcome to join our newsletter family. I’ll also be sharing them on Facebook.

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I didn’t plan to take such a long break from writing here. It wasn’t something I mapped out or even announced. It just… happened. Or maybe more truthfully, God made it happen. Although I didn’t know why He was asking me to pause, I knew obedience was important. So even though it meant stepping away, I did.

Looking back, I see God’s stamp all over it. This past year has been one of spiritual growth. A time of conviction, of learning what freedom in Christ really means, of letting go of things I was never meant to carry, of walking in obedience without having all the answers, of trusting God’s perfect timing, of resting solely in Him.

There were also some family challenges that needed my full attention, including an accident my husband had that required surgery and ongoing recovery. That journey is still unfolding, but I’ve seen God’s faithfulness in every step forward.

And that brings me to something new along with coming back to the blog. After much prayer (and quite a few nudges from family and friends over the years), I finally said yes to something that’s been on my heart for a while: opening a small online shop featuring my photography. It’s a creative extension of the same heart behind everything I share here. 

I’ll continue to share encouragement, wellness ideas, and life reflections mainly through my newsletter I’m calling, The Dwelling Place. The Shop is just one more way I hope to create artwork and resources that inspires others to cultivate hearts and homes that honor God, and it’s also helping our family in a very practical way right now.

Thank you for your patience, prayers, and allowing me to share a bit of my journey with you. I’ve missed this space and the community it holds. I’m so grateful to be here again, and I can’t wait to share what God’s been stirring in my heart.

Here’s to fresh beginnings, creativity, and finding God’s beauty in unexpected places. ?

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At first glance, it seems like a good thing. I can see why many people, Christ followers like myself included, would jump on the bandwagon with supporting it. Profanity, nudity, and violence are definitely not things we should be participating in.

So, why did this concept of supporting filtered popular entertainment continue to not sit right? As I turned to God for clarity, he showed me several things, and then told me not to stay quiet. Uhmm, ok?!

The following requires me to be vulnerably honest. It’s a post I argued with God about writing. I do not crave controversy. But I do crave a closer relationship with the Father, which means obedience and trusting he’ll do the heavy lifting where needed. Here goes.

Free Download

Simple monthly/weekly planner with encouraging Bible verses!

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As a young adult, I spent six years auto-racing cars, five of which entailed traveling to different tracks in the Midwest. After that came a couple years of CrossFit. I loved the excitement (aka: adrenaline rush) of being on track with other cars and/or pushing myself to do more physically.

So how does that lead to a city girl becoming a “Farmer”? So glad you asked! It has a lot to do with a diversified husband, two parts crazy, and one part need. The need? A baby that changed everything. The crazy? My husband’s idea!

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The Sprouted Farm Girl

The farming seed was planted, when we found out our eldest daughter had several food intolerances after experiencing months of colic.  I needed to revamp my entire diet ASAP. So, we closed down the auto racing business, moved by Jason’s family, and dove right in with researching holistic and naturopathic options, learning how to clean up our diet, and sourcing food.

A couple years later, after our son was born, we struggled to find local farms with a steady inventory of organic, 100% grass-fed beef. Anything else and the kids would either react to it or refuse to eat it. As we were talking one day, Jason said, “We should start raising our own cattle. It’s hard to find around here.” Naturally, I laughed, chalking it up to another ambitious idea. After it was brought up a few more times I realized he was serious.

Jason is great at envisioning and pursuing new ventures when he sees a need or finds something interesting. I am great at the organizing and planning end of things….and hesitating with the unknown! In my head, I knew it “could work”, especially if it was something we put our minds too. But mostly I thought, “He wants me be a farm girl and do what??? He gone crazy!”

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The Watered Farm Girl

The next step was approaching my in-laws to ask if we could raise a couple cattle on their land. (In case you’re wondering – that was hubby’s idea too!) Knowing we had a need and wanting to help, they graciously agreed. And so the planning began.

The initial thought was to get two cattle, use the existing lean-to barn and fencing, and raise the cattle for immediate family. Jason put a lot of time into researching natural care, rotational grazing, organic practices and alternatives, breed selection, and much more.

We brought home our first two heifers in fall of 2015. It didn’t go well. Within minutes, the older one found the one small part of fencing that somehow lost power, and proceeded to ever so calmly walk out of the fence. She wandered around the area for four months before we got her back, but that’s a story for another day!

P.S. We promptly named her Wanda, and that’s her and her younger sister Shaggy in the picture above.

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The Learning Farm Girl

Things got better as we found our groove. It wasn’t long into our journey, that someone brought up it wasn’t any more work to raise a bunch of cattle versus just a couple. (In case you’re wondering here too – that was actually my father-in-laws idea, go figure!) So the herd increased to what we could manage with available land.

Along with this came building a bigger lean-to barn, putting in fencing, adding waterers, redoing the stockyard, putting in more fencing, beginning to sell the beef directly to consumers, and just in case I forgot – putting in more fencing! It’s a good thing there was four of us!

2017 was a frenzied mix of driving back and forth from our house to the farm, late night after late night, my mother-in-law providing meals and watching the kiddos, scrapes, bruised shins, shocks from the fence, researching retail licenses, and growing closer as a family.

Today, we rotationally graze around thirty head of 100% grass-fed, organic beef cattle with my in-laws, dodge too many chickens in the barn yard, and grow produce (and flowers) in the garden beds.

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A Farm Girl

So, here I am, several years in, adding the occupation “Farm Girl” to my resume! The jewelry, heels, business wear, makeup and updo’s have been traded in for a silicone wedding ring around the farm, mud boots, casual clothes, bare face, and ponytails!

I’ve never imagined having the opportunities to work with all the various equipment, walk amongst the cattle, watch live births, get sprayed with cow poo, and pray and cry over them like you would family members.

It’s not even remotely close to what I envisioned for myself, but I love what we’ve all built together. When life gets hectic, walking outside, spending time with the cattle, and working in the gardens calms my soul. God continues to bless us in unexpected ways. And if I’m honest – I’m kinda diggin’ being a farm girl, living life on the farm.

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If you’re facing an unexpected life change and/or needing to try something new – my advice is to at least try it. You simply never know what the outcome will be. I’ve tried a lot of new things that have landed me splat on my face. But amongst all the things that don’t work, will be things that do work, so don’t give up! Where has your life journey taken you?

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The post My Journey From City Slicker to Farm Girl appeared first on Blooming Rock Homestead.

I’ve also noticed people everywhere seem to be missing laughter, light heartedness, encouragement, hope, friendship, kindness, and authenticity. They feel alone.

It’s made me wonder how that’s even possible when the world is at our fingertips, and most everyone is connected via social media and/or handheld devices?!

Yet, as I’ve read prayer requests from women around the globe and my own backyard, the desperation, anguish, and loneliness felt all over is real!

What to do

The weariness these women feel (including myself at times) bothered me, but I wasn’t sure what to do.

So, I did what I do know. I started praying about it.

In the meantime, one of my devotionals spoke of mutual love for God, serving one another in love, speaking His truth to people’s hearts, and being vulnerable.  Author Shanna Noel said, “What an opportunity we have to show His heart to the world by loving one another well.”.

I thought, Yes Lord! This is exactly what the world needs right now.

We need to be reminded that amongst the turmoil, there is hope in the One who rules victorious. We need those around us to offer love, lift one another up, extend genuine friendship, and share the nitty gritty parts of life. And laughter! Lord, we need to belly laugh and be silly!

As I prayed specifically on that, I began to feel God leading me toward something unexpected.

A Chat with God

Can you recall a difficult “conversation” you’ve had with a co-worker, spouse, or child? Something where you knew it was futile because the outcome wouldn’t really change, but you argued valiantly anyways? Yea? Ok good, now keep that in mind as you read the following.

God: You know Peggy, I placed this on your heart for a reason. You can offer the people who cross your path the exact things you’ve been praying about.

Well, yes. I try to reflect You when I interact with those around me. Not always perfectly obviously, but you know.

God: No, I mean I want you to be intentional about it. Share it on social media.  

I don’t get it. What do you mean?

God: I want you to use your blog and create what My people need.

Me??? You must be mistaken. I’m just a mom with too many “projects” to be considered sane, live in a small town, and tend to be introverted. I don’t think you have the right person. Besides, I struggle to be consistent with the blog anyways! (Counting on my fingers here).

God: Peggy, I don’t make mistakes. I want you to focus on bringing encouragement, cheer, and authenticity to your platform.

More Excuses

Um, God? I don’t even have a platform. I have like, less than a hundred followers. What difference is that going to make?

God: Let me worry about that.

Are you sure? Because this doesn’t make sense! A lot of people aren’t even on social media anymore! And honestly, I’ve been pulling away too. There’s not a whole lot of positivity there.

God: Yes! I know! That’s why I’m asking you to add some!

But, God, in order to expand reach with these things successfully, you need some kind of niche. I don’t have that either. I’m just a mom! You know I’ve struggled with defining things the last few years, my life’s story is too random!

God: Sigh. (I don’t know if he really does that, but in my head he did.) Child, did you miss the part where I said I wanted you to be normal and authentic? You worry too much. All I want to know is, are you going to be obedient and let me worry about the rest?

Since you’re reading this, I’ll let you figure out how the weeks long exchange finished!

Ch, Ch, Ch, Changes!

It’s scary to commit to something outside of my comfort zone. But it’s been amazing to see God provide and inspire, and I’ve had a lot of fun creating new content to share with you on Facebook and Instagram.

Here’s the lowdown on what changes you’ll see until God says otherwise! (I’ve learned my lesson there, lol!)

More focus on social media platforms, providing things like:

What about the blog?

My desire to write and share information will always exist. Even when I don’t have much time to sit down and type, my head’s cataloging all the things I want to share sooner or later.

Actual blog posts may be fewer and farther in-between (not much change there, lol) and will continue to be on a smattering of topics like:

Are you in?

I truly hope you’ll find these changes refreshing, that the posts will be something you look forward to, and you’ll feel part of the community we build together.

Know someone else who could use some cheer? Like the people you thought of while reading the beginning of the post? Invite them to join us! Life is always better with friends.

I’d love to know what kind of things make you smile while perusing social media. Drop me a note in the comments!

Here’s to kicking off Version 3.0 of the blog, updated website and all!

Peggy

The post Faith & Farmin’ Version 3.0: The Latest Changes appeared first on Blooming Rock Homestead.

On the one hand, I was grateful to have an explanation for symptoms that continued to get worse over the course of the summer. I had only visited the doctor in the first place because it was getting hard to function from day to day. On the other hand, I never expected anything life changing.

The initial office visit yielded a prognosis of an ovarian cyst. Nothing too major and it should go away on its own. I thought, “Oh, I can handle it for a while longer than, switch up my health care routine even more, get more rest, etc.”

However, the results from ultrasounds told a different story.

The Real Diagnosis

Connecting with my husband from the safety of the car, tears fell down my cheeks as I relayed the doctor’s news. It was actually fibroids. One small and not much concern. One fairly large of the most uncommon type, positioned in a way that made removal of just the fibroid near impossible. The recommendation considering what it was, the severity of my symptoms, and the fact they often reoccur even with removal, was to have a hysterectomy.

We weren’t planning on any more children, so that was not an overly big issue. But the thought of losing the innermost part of me that’s made me a mom and a woman sent me reeling. It was hard to process. And six weeks of recovery seemed daunting considering I homeschool and help run two family businesses.

Not wanting to act rashly, we spent time looking into other options, but were met with the same recommendation. Making a choice was difficult. Having what’s considered a major surgery could lead to a life free from symptoms but possibly entail other side effects. Or I could wait it out while trying a more natural approach. Ultimately, I chose the latter.

The Game Plan

There is no mistake God has guided us and put certain hardships in our life to help prepare for moments like that. Had our daughter Q not been born with food sensitivities; we wouldn’t have the knowledge on natural healing and access to holistic practitioners.

We dove into researching which whole-food supplements could help, what (if any) foods should be eliminated, and alternative/natural care possibilities.

Within one week of a new supplement regiment, symptoms became tolerable. Within three weeks many symptoms dissipated. After a month, I started acupuncture treatments and things improved a little more.

Expect the Unexpected

After a couple months, I silently decided a hysterectomy was not needed provided I could maintain the mostly symptom free life I was experiencing. We continued tweaking the supplement regiment and using natural ways to manage the fibroids.

Then out of the blue, symptoms returned full force with several new bothers added in. Perplexed, I went to my normal acupuncture treatment and explained what was going on.

Imagine my surprise as the acupuncturist examined a few things, started giggling, and then told me to go home and take a pregnancy test.

All I could think was “NO WAY!,” it literally can’t be possible. Not to mention the effort and financial commitment we’d put into healing. Furthermore, fibroids grow with higher levels of certain hormones, so being pregnant would just be ridiculous.

And yet, sure enough. Two pink lines. Facing my husband, I gave him a trepid smile, started to cry, and said, “I guess God has different plans for us right now!”.  

A Revised Plan

Shortly after, bouts of fear and anxiety kicked in as I knew the pregnancy would be considered high risk. Health challenges did come up, but with God’s help we waded through those too.

Despite the rocky journey and our unexpected gift, God blessed us with a healthy baby, and we couldn’t be more in love with her.

While not everyone’s journey will yield the same results, I’m thankful God allowed it for me. I’m blessed to have a circle of friends to turn to for prayer. I’m grateful God provided the grace, strength, and patience required to walk through this part of my story.

Gazing at R’s tiny fingers; it crazy to think a year ago I was faced with the possibility of never being able to conceive again. I cannot help but chuckle at what I call God’s “humor” in the timing of things. I will forever be thankful He allowed His plan to unfold as it did, so I can appreciate it even more.

The post The Unexpected Wonder of Baby “R” appeared first on Blooming Rock Homestead.

The questioning came from one portion that really drew me in. A topic I’ve heard about, known about, have prayed about, but felt so distant from. Something I’ve not dealt with personally but felt deeply convicted by. An issue one might expect to be covered in mainstream media but is only spoken about in certain circles.

It was a compelling interview with Jennie Allen and Pastor X regarding the underground church movement in Iran and the Middle East. As a result, I promptly watched the connecting films “Sheep Among Wolves” and its sequel. They caused tears of compassion, shame, and awe.

To fully grasp the gravity of the underground church movement; how precarious the situation is and how strong in faith the disciples are; one MUST watch the films to experience listening to the stories first person.

However, I can’t remain silent after feeling a passion so deep it led to a conversation with Jason with me exclaiming “I want to start a church!”.

I can also no longer ignore the prompts God’s been sending my way to share their story. To raise awareness amongst believers and non-believers that His Kingdom is growing, persecution be damned, through this underground movement.

Special Note: To protect identities, personal information and specific locations are purposefully vague. However, it does not detract from the importance of what they are doing or the threats they are experiencing.

Q&A Interview

The interview with Jennie Allen and Pastor X took place in an undisclosed location in the Middle East with facial images and voices distorted. As Pastor X answered questions, explained the beginning of the movement and following growth, and shared insight into what makes their following different; I couldn’t help but get excited about something that seemed so real.

It was produced to raise awareness, request prayer and support, and explain the mindset behind the people leading the movement. It was informative and the videography made issues more tangible.

What stood out like a megawatt lightbulb, were some glaring differences between believers in the Western and Eastern cultures. Perhaps it was intended, perhaps not.

But one thing I felt for sure – we’re missing out on something!

Interviewee Background

Pastor X became a Christ follower later in life. He grew up in the United States and experienced what a luxurious life in a first world country looks like. High paying job, nice home, multiple vehicles, connected and working with a church, education, etc. But a few years into having a personal relationship with Christ, he still wondered what was missing.

His wife grew up in the Middle East within a family extremely devoted to their ethnic beliefs. After a life-changing event, concerning her mother and a failed joint suicide attempt, she became a Christ follower. She encountered Jesus in a very real way, which led to some passionate sharing and created growth of new followers. It also led to living a life of faith underground.

Persecution Realities

Persecution for faith looks different in various parts of the world. To step away from one’s cultural beliefs and express faith in something different can be monumental and change the trajectory of life. It might look like ostracization from the family, loss of employment, being shunned by friends – all things people sometimes face here in the United States.

What we typically don’t have to face is the need to run and/or hide for safety from known persecution. I don’t need to worry my family may turn me in to the authorities for choosing a different belief system. There is no fear the authorities will come to my home and harm me or my family for my beliefs. I don’t have to have a discussion with my husband over what to do should they come for one of us. Teaching the family self-defense to save a life is not a top priority.  

Persecution in Iran and the Middle East takes many forms pending gender and age; which may include being beaten, tortured, raped, isolated, being sold into slavery/sex-trafficking, separated from family, death.

Considering the difference in persecution, my hesitation to share what I believe suddenly seems paper thin and choosing to operate underground with safety systems in check doesn’t seem so far out.  

The Culture Struggle

After meeting and marrying, Pastor X and his wife came back to the United States. A few months later, she became depressed and restless. Pastor X could not understand considering she left a third world country where Christ followers face persecution daily. So, he asked her, “What’s wrong?”.

Her response has played in my head on repeat:

“The church here is not alive. It’s as if they’re under a satanic lullaby. I want to go back home. Take me home.”

Let that soak in. She would rather return to the Middle East and face death in the name of her King versus living with comforts and religious freedom in the United States. In her eyes, spiritual sleepiness was more threatening than persecution!

What was more important to her than having luxuries and freedom? Being with fellow believers who are active and alive in Christ, pushing His Kingdom forward, and exhibiting a radical faith. Regardless of needing to worship underground to avoid being killed!

As I look back on my walk with God and think about how I compare what I have to those around me or focus on how an upgraded XYZ would make work easier or hesitate to share things God’s placed on my heart lest I be ridiculed/called out/lose friends and followers – one question consistently pops up.

Is what I have really faith? Or is it a shaky byproduct of growing up in the church and sneaking in quiet time with God?

To be continued…

Don’t miss future posts in this series! I’ll continue to share what aspects of these films made me question my faith. We’ll also take a closer look at how the underground church operates and what Pastor X sees as differences between the Western and Eastern cultures that lead to different types of Christ followers.

How has this information affected you so far? Did you learn anything? Gain a new perspective? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the topic!

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