You guys. It just took me one entire hour of my life to figure out how to get the picture on the main page of this blog. That’s probably a sign that this will not be a lucrative investment for me (Matt just asked me how it’s going and if we’ve gotten a return on my $48 annual WordPress investment yet. Umm…not exactly).
But right now Jen Hatmaker is in my head, so I kept pushing my tired old Mac to upload that picture, taken on my phone yesterday, that I emailed to myself because I could not get my Air Drop or iCloud to work (so I’m not exactly tech-savvy), with our maddening satellite internet (#dirtroadproblems) moving slower than a dial-up modem in 1998, so I could get this thing going. 59 minutes later and we’re getting somewhere.
ANYWHO, have you read Of Mess and Moxie? Jen Hatmaker always speaks to my heart and makes me pee my pants laughing. Her words in Chapter 10, Makers and Dreamers, have been haunting me since August when I first read it. It’s about creating art and making time and space in your life to create whatever your form of art is. Pouring into your art form. Living intentionally. She says (drum roll please): there will never be time. Wait…what? There will never. be. time. You have to make the time. Prioritize the time. Put in the time. Do the time. Do the things. Make the art. YOU have to do all that.
Her words gave me chills and made me look over my shoulder. Someone knew I needed those words in my life (I hear you, Jesus and Jen). I’ve been fighting a little internal battle for awhile now, that consisted of a soul-need to write/create/share some thoughts, and a mind and body refusal to do it. Do you ever have soul-needs (I made up that phrase. You’re welcome) that your mind and body refuse to cooperate with? Or don’t know how to execute? And if you are lucky enough to have a full-time job, but that 40 hours a week is not necessarily your art, your soul-need, then it makes the creating and the time feel that much more out of reach.
(Farmer just leaned over and asked again how it’s going. “Are you doing any copy and paste from other blogs? That’s how I would start.” Bless him and all his former English teachers/professors.)
When I first started dating Matt, and farm life and antics became a regular topic of conversation with my friends and family, someone told me I should start a blog. “He’s like, an actual full-time farmer? Those people still exist? That’s…weird. You should start a blog.” Cute idea. Maybe when I’m out of grad school.
Engaged. Sooo this farm thing isn’t going away. Someone else: “He, like, drives a tractor and everything? That’s cool. You should start a blog.” Eh. Maybe if I’m bored after the wedding.
Married. “Oh, you’re related to that family? They’re good people. Doesn’t he work a lot? Wait, you’re a psychologist? That’s…weird. You should start a blog.” Got it. Maybe next summer…
You get the picture. Fast forward four years and one two-year old later, and Jen Hatmaker is in my head, I’m cursing at my Air Drop icon thingy, and here we are. If you’ve read this far, I wish I could offer you a prize. Invisible internet kudos to you. Come back soon if you have any interest in farm life/laughs/struggles, recipes (mostly unhealthy), pictures uploaded through a labor of love, ignorance, and curse words, musings of a school psychologist, and the patience for someone who knows not what they’re doing. No promises for anything more earth shattering than that.