Hey friends. It’s been awhile.  I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for gifting me a year of silence. One year. A year of reflection, of healing, and most importantly, a year of restoration.

Hot on the heels of our second failed IVF last February I found myself in an emotional state of shock. What had just happened?

If you are just starting your fertility treatment journey, this is something you need to understand: It’s like getting on a train, and you hope you only have to go down one mile or two, but it often doesn’t work like that, and you feel yourself compelled to keep going, mile after mile, until you are emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. And by the way this is the world’s most expensive, train. Hello $30K of debt later.

So yeah. I needed a break. As hard as it was to step off the train and “admit defeat” We just couldn’t go any further. I threw myself back into work, but found my soul craving more.

In the spring, God in His perfect timing sent through some grants and fellowships for my husband Tim. This funding meant he did not have to teach at the University that summer or fall. That he could simply focus on writing his dissertation.

The wheels began to turn in my head. I talked to my church about the possibility of working remotely for them for six months from my family’s 40 acre farm in southeast Tennessee. My family has a guest cabin and a separate apartment in the main house, so plenty of room for us to stay, help out with the farm chores, and mostly, just soak in the peace and quiet.

At first it seemed like working remotely would be a possibility with my church, but then that door closed, and I took it hard. Like really hard. Like breaking down in tears in your boss’ office. Not my best moment. But I paid attention to my reaction. See now that I’m old and wise in my 30’s ;), I’ve tried to dig deeper into reactions that surprise me. And I’ve found that always always, there is a reason.

In this case, my reaction was because my bruised and needle-prodded soul was so craving peace, healing, and precious time with family that I just couldn’t deal. So I agreed to work remotely through August, and after that I was on my own.

Gulp.

But I was resolved. So I put on my big girl panties, and in June we stuffed all our furniture into a storage unit, and grabbing a couple suitcases of clothes and our Maine Coons Atticus Finch and Oscar, we hit the open road to Tennessee. (And I do mean OPEN, Kansas, I’m looking at you.)

I could write an entire book about the magic of being back in the south for the summer and fall. And I know the critics will cry “humidity!” and “bugs”, and you know what, so will I! The “humidity”: the moisture, bathing my dry and chapped CO skin and hair, bringing back beautiful loose waves and curls in my hair and dewy freshness to my tired face. The warm summer nights –  feet barefoot in the grass. And yes the “bugs”: the fireflies, hundreds of them, lighting up the twilight with their magical dance. The cicadas singing their slow and raspy lullabies from the sweet gum trees as we swung silently in the hammock.

And don’t even get me started on autumn in Tennessee. An entire three months of explosions of color from every tree, red, purple, orange and yellow. Cool breezes, bonfires, and brisk trail rides.

For this southern gal – who hadn’t been back to the south in the summer or fall for six years, it was just perfection. And slowly, through lazy summer days, cups of coffee and glasses of wine on the porch with my momma, the comfort of routine, feeding the horse, the goat, the chickens, the dog, and ourselves from the bounty of our vegetable and herb garden, I found the peace and healing that I so desperately needed.

It was a tantalizing and teasing glimpse into the life we didn’t know we were craving.

Let’s back up. In my heart of hearts, the “life plan” dream went like this. We would get pregnant, and only then would I transition out of full time work and into doing freelance design from home. I would perfectly balance a life of raising children, being a designer, running a horse farm, and baking fresh bread and pies for my husband on the reg. Well friends, we all know that life doesn’t usually end up like we plan it.

And so, with a lot of trepidation and not a positive pregnancy test in sight , I struck out on my own in September of 2018 with doing freelance graphic design and communications consultation with kaypedesign.com.

I’m not gonna lie – this was mildly terrifying as my husband is still in school, we have a small mountain of IVF debt, and we’re saving for a downpayment for a house, but I clearly felt that God was opening the door, so I tiptoed through.

Since that day, God has faithfully provided, from a choir practice at our church in Tennessee, where He sat me next to the founder of HopeHouse International, an AMAZING organization (look em up) who just happened to need ongoing communication support. Through my faithful older clients and new ones, we’ve been able to pay down debt and save for our downpayment faster than we thought we could. All because of a closed door, and taking a scary step of faith.

In the coming weeks I’ll say more about where we are in our fertility journey, and how we’re balancing intentional life in Colorado for six months with the excitement of moving to our “forever” home in Virginia this summer. But for now let me leave you with this,

Pay attention to your reactions, dig down deep even if its hard and uncomfortable. Listen to what your soul is craving, and then make it happen.

And sometimes take that step of faith, without the safety net below.

A special thank you to Mom + Roger for letting us stay on the farm this season. Your generosity and hospitality is a constant inspiration to me, and a template for how I  strive to live my life.