What I Learned In The Wilderness

There are so many things to learn about life, lessons that a long trail can teach you. Since I've been home, something in my attitude is changed a little bit. My outlook on life is the same, but maybe just a bit wiser.

Here are some of the things I learned on my little foray into the wilderness:

Choose your friends wisely. Pick people who make you really happy, that share your interests, and that you truly enjoy being with. Spend time with people who like to push themselves further than they've gone before. Their character will rub off on your character. Make sure they are worthy of your respect and your time. And if you're going to be hiking for a really long time in the woods, make sure you can laugh with them, talk to them for hours, and that they can keep a good attitude in what could otherwise be a miserable situation.

You'll never really get to know people if you only socialize on Facebook. There's a real life out there, folks, and real people. People that are worth getting to know on a much deeper level than social media will allow.

If you're starting to feel a little too confident, go for a hike. Mother Nature will put you right back in your place.

There is so much life to live. You aren't going to run out of amazing things to do. Don't waste your time on things that don't matter in the end. Life is short. Live it.

Take care of your body. If you do, it will take you anywhere you want to go. And don't take it for granted. You never know what will happen in the future.

Stop hating your body because it isn't perfect. Fix what you can, accept what you can't, but it's capable of incredible things. Respect it for all that it is and that it does for you.

Go NOW. Don't wait. When the opportunity comes, jump on it. It might not be a perfect time, you might have more "important" things to do. But they'll likely wait. Opportunity doesn't always wait. If it's something you want to do, go do it.

You are strong enough to do anything, if it's something you really want to do. Find your limits, acknowledge them, and push past them. Then do it again. You'll gain muscle and character.

Even the little mundane moments (of the hike or in life) are part of the journey. Appreciate them. They're getting you where you want to go.

And if you're not going where you want to go, turn around and start going there.

Don't rush. You might miss something incredible.

Never underestimate people. Never write them off because they have different ideas than you. Talk to them, listen to them, appreciate their thoughts and experiences. They have wisdom you don't. You don't have to change your beliefs, but you can learn a few things by listening.

 Choose your attitude. You can complain because the creek is cold and deep, or you can splash through it laughing and feel satisfied when you know you crossed it. Life's too short to get mad about things you're going to have to do anyway.

Don't waste your time being afraid of things you can't see. They might not even be there. Keep an eye out, stay aware, but don't let an opportunity pass you by because you're afraid of something you're probably just imagining anyway.

Don't forget how small you really are. Stand on a mountain and look around at the vastness of the world. Let it comfort you and terrify you at the same time. It'll keep you humble.

Stop and appreciate really small things. They are what add beauty and value to that immense world you a part of.

If it sounds crazy, it's probably worth doing -- and it's the doing that makes you just a little bit wiser than you were before.

Where does your meat come from?

Remember this little guy?


Good golly, was he ever cute. Long floppy ears and the most playful personality I ever saw in a baby goat... granted, he was also the first baby goat I ever saw.

I won't ever forget that night. 7:45 on a frosty cold evening in late January, we knew Justice was getting ready to kid. By the time we went back out, there were two tiny baby goats on the ground. And this li'l guy, being the oldest, walked right up to us. I actually shed some tears that night - the awe of a perfect birth, the beauty of a mama goat instantly loving her babies, the smell of a newborn kid... it hit that emotional soft spot in me and made my eyes well up.

But reality does have to set in here up on our little farmstead. And reality dictates that we don't get to keep every cute little furry animal born in our barn.

Here's the thing with milk goats - if you want to milk them, they have to give birth. Every. Year. And they don't often just have one baby. We've got three milking does in the barn right now that are all due in about six weeks, and each one will very likely have two kids... which means six new baby goats to love... and feed.

When you're trying to live the way we are, sometimes not-so-fun decisions have to be made. Decisions that involve animals that are really cute and fun to have around, but don't serve any other real purpose. It was time for Phillip to serve his purpose as a wethered goat.

Come to find out, though, The Daddy and I are a little more sensitive than we might readily admit. And slaughtering the goat that we and our kids have loved for the past year just wasn't something we were looking forward to. So for fifty bucks, we let the local butcher take care of that job. As I type, Phillip is awaiting his fate in a pen behind the local gas station. (Because apparently in small towns, gas stations keep pens in the back for animals waiting to be slaughtered, and no one finds this odd.)

When we get him back, it will be in the form of hunks of meat, which I will then grind and make sausage. My hope is that once the soft, floppy ears and fuzzy winter coat are left behind, I'll be able to see it only as meat, and not as an animal that we once watched romp on the mountain (or jump into a freezing water trough.)

Will I still feel sad? I'm sure I will. But here's the thing: there's something so ultimately valuable about watching an animal grow up, feeding and caring for it every day of its life, and then eating it. There's nothing that can make you appreciate your food more than that. So yes, while I'm sad, and feeling pretty darn guilty, I'll be glad to know that he had a wonderful life full of fresh air and sunshine and ear scratches and animal crackers. I'd rather have that sustain me than meat from the grocery store that never had a face. I think every meat eater should have to experience these feelings a time or two in their life. If that were the case, we'd have a lot more folks who really appreciated the fact that an animal died for their sustenance. (Or, we'd have a lot more vegetarians.)

So today we'll keep ourselves busy, probably stay out of the barn for the most part, and try not to think about what had to happen. And we'll look forward to the birth of new animals this spring - a calf and many kid goats, along with a few batches of poultry. And we'll look forward to having sausage with our eggs for breakfast in the morning, and homemade pepperoni on our Friday night pizzas.

Nope, not the best day we've had our our little farmstead, but one that dutifully reminds us that this crazy life we're living isn't always going to be emotionally easy... and also one that puts life into very real perspective. I'll take the value of that lesson over 'easy' any day.

Living Deliberately

de·lib·er·ate

 /adj. dɪˈlɪbərɪt; v. dɪˈlɪbəˌreɪt/ Show Spelled [adj. dih-lib-er-it; v. dih-lib-uh-reyt] adjective, verb, -at·ed, -at·ing.

adjective

1.

carefully weighed or considered; studied; intentional: a deliberate lie.

2.

characterized by deliberation; careful or slow in deciding: a deliberate decision.

3.

leisurely and steady in movement or action; slow and even; unhurried: a deliberate step.

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Mama Kautz asked a great question on Facebook this morning: do you have a word for 2012? Her word is "simple" and I'm looking forward to seeing her move her family closer to that word each day.

My word is "deliberate". I want to live deliberately, and encourage my daughters to do the same. My husband is already deliberate. Maybe he can give me lessons.

Note some of the key words in the above definitions: slow. unhurried. careful.

I'm a spazz by nature. I get an idea in my head and I run with it without ever looking back. Without thinking twice, without considering the consequences. At times this can be good - it means I accomplish a lot sometimes - but there are times that when I finally do look back I shake my head and wonder what on earth I was thinking. I don't want to have to wonder any more!

It's easy to get so caught up in everything going on that we just sort of "float" through our days, float through life, going through the motions without putting any thought or meaning into anything. I want to stop doing that! Every little thing we, as wives and mothers, do can be meaningful if we choose to give it purpose, if we think about it before we act. I want to create the habit of carefully, even prayerfully considering each thing I do as a wife and mother and homemaker.

Moving to a farm has been a very deliberate action. We have considered carefully and slowly the right type of land, we have saved money intentionally, over the past few years we have prepared ourselves with skills to use when we begin our new lifestyle out in the country. It seems to be a good start for my Year of Living Deliberately.

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So what is your word for the year? What adjective are you going to strive for? I do look forward to hearing about it! Maybe we can convince Mama Kautz to do a weekly link-up as we check in with our progress for living the word we choose for the new year...