How cute are these cousins?!?!
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This is more like it…
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…always in motion!
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Surely farms were made for little boys!
These three cuties slowed down just long enough to give the sweetest hugs and kisses several times a day while I laid on the couch with a newly broken ankle. One put a bandaid on me, and another said, “Want me to snuggle you a little bit?” He leaned in close, smelling like the barn, and rubbed my head with his dirty little hands. Made my day!
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Sadly, we had to cut our visit short. An immobile auntie who can’t risk getting bumped or knocked doesn’t make the best hostess for toddler boys…or the best photographer. I didn’t get to take a single shot while they were here. But then again, the sweetest moments weren’t ones I could’ve photographed anyway.
Real life with real people isn’t what you see in social media. It’s all kinds of messy and imperfect. It’s full of sweetness and chaos. It’s broken bones and frustrations and meltdowns…right alongside hugs and kisses and snuggles. And when you realize these are the people who know your crazy and will drive 13 hours to be with you in your crazy…that’s real love. I can’t think of anything sweeter.
With a full heart and an aching ankle,
P.S. I can’t help but wonder if part of my recovery during this whole ankle break ordeal has something to do with not being able to whip my house into shape after every mess. In fact, I can’t even see most of the mess. I spend the entire day in one spot and couldn’t clean a thing even if I wanted to! Here’s all I know for sure: God is healing more than a broken bone. He’s always doing a deeper thing that what we can see!
Oh, Bravehearted Beauties, I feel like a BROKEN MESS! Sometimes it’s hard to show up this way…again. But here are three good reasons to be here today: One, I miss you! Two, I think the messy middle of our stories are as powerful as the redeemed endings. If we only share the polished parts, we’re doing each other a huge disservice. And three, writing is like breathing for me. It’s healing and life-giving and shines a light into dark places. So here I am, believing there will be goodness for all of us in this brave and beautiful space we share.
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I’m no stranger to brokenness…or to finding beauty in the midst of it. In fact, it’s the brokenness in life that drives me to hunt for beauty. Finding beauty in brokenness has emerged as the theme of my life, especially since our big move. I pick up my camera like a sword on a regular basis and fight to see beauty in every broken, barren place. And just as I thought was getting pretty good at it, I’ve tumbled into a whole new kind of brokenness: a broken bone.
The short and crazy of it is that I jumped off a fast-moving horse and rolled my ankle right down the slope of our pasture. OUCH! Who jumps off a cantering horse? Maybe someone whose bravery exceeds her skill. We were cantering, I was loving it, she started bucking, and I wanted off. She had a mind of her own in that moment, so I decided I would, too.
I knew when I landed that it hurt. But would you believe I walked Lucy over to the pond, chatted with her owner {who was riding with me,} then hopped back onto the saddle {using my broken ankle to mount}, and rode back to the barn. Took the saddle off {while shaking inside}, washed her down and turned her back out into the pasture. That’s when it hit me: we asked Lucy to work in her playground. No spirited young girl wants to work in a playground! I’d be defiant, too!
On top of everything else, this was my first time in an English saddle. Everything about it was different…the saddle, the alignment, how to hold the reigns. I don’t pretend to be a highly skilled rider, but Western comes naturally to me. I think the Texas girl in me always liked the cowgirl approach to horses. It feels a little more wild and free. Looking back, I should’ve started in a flat arena with a lead rope, but the Bravehearted Beauty in me just wanted to ride. And until the fall, it was pure joy!
This is how I feel inside when I’m on a horse: happy.
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When I was about ten years old, I rode a horse for the first time. He was young and newly broken. I didn’t feel an ounce of fear; only desire. But halfway through our trail ride, that young horse freaked out at the idea of crossing a creek and bucked high up on his hind legs. I felt a rush of fear and adrenaline, but held on tight, determined to stay on no matter what.
That was me as a little girl. Brave, yes. And I love that part of me. But there was also a scared little girl who didn’t know how to keep herself safe, so she held on tight with every muscle in her tense little body and worked hard to hide the fear. So as I’ve asked God about why I jumped off this time, all I can say for now is that it was part of feeling like I had a choice. This time, I was brave in a different way. I was brave enough to choose my own way out of something that didn’t feel safe for me…even if it meant risking physical pain. Something about that feels more powerful even if it is a little crazy.
Once I came in from the barn and allowed myself to feel the pain in my ankle, the dam broke. “I don’t want to be more broken! I’m tired of being broken!” Followed by sobs and wails and flashes of memories that seemed entirely unrelated…things I didn’t even know I remembered. But the body remembers. And pain has the potential to wake up those forgotten, hidden places. And while that might sound scary to those who’ve tried to forget, it’s actually a gift that opens doors to healing and freedom.
So this is the beauty in my brokenness: where there is pain, there is an opportunity for healing. And just as a bone will heal, so will the heart and mind and spirit. All I have to do is say yes to healing and be still enough to let it happen.
Feels like a good time to remember these words:
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Still as can be for as many weeks as it takes,
Today is July 7th. 7/7. I’ve always liked the number 7; I wore it on my jersey for most of my pitching “career.” Some say it’s a lucky number and some say it represents completeness and perfection. Whatever it means, I knew when I woke up, even before I knew the exact date, that this particular day was significant. So I looked back at my old blog and found this post from three years ago. I wrote it on July 6, 2012, the day before we moved into our farmhouse. So that’s it! July 7 was our move-in date, three years ago.
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Hard to believe it’s been three years since we left all that was familiar and comfortable in the city and moved to a completely unfamiliar, unpredictable farm life in the country. And not in Texas at all, but in Tennessee! Sometimes I still can’t believe we really did this. That I did this. It still feels like the craziest, bravest thing I’ve ever done. {Aside from barebacking the pony in my pasture with no saddle, no reigns, no nothing. Now, that’s a story!}
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I get more emails from blog readers about our move than anything else. I’m blown away by all the people who want to know about moving to Franklin specifically. And some who are dreaming about farm life. But more than anything, people just want to know about chasing a dream. They want to know how we did it and what the hardest and best parts have been. They want to know if they can do it, too. My short answer is yes, if God is speaking to your heart and directing your steps, you can do anything He inspires you to do.
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But of course, there’s always a long answer. I have lots of words to describe what this move has been like for me, which is one of the reasons I continue to write my heart out over time. I also know our story isn’t finished. Sometimes, we still don’t know why we’re here. All we know is it’s a bigger story than just moving from the city to a farm. So, I still don’t have all the answers, but because we’ve been here three years now, I thought I’d do a little reflecting…just whatever pops up in my heart this morning. {It might be interesting to see how this post compares to my reflections only six months into our move.}
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I’ve heard people say it takes two years to settle into a place. For me, I’d say it takes more like three. Maybe I’m slow. Or maybe it’s an introverted homebody thing. Either way, I’ve learned to give myself a lot of grace. So what if I still use GPS to get around most days? When you’ve only lived in one place your entire life {and stayed close to your neighborhood most of that time}, you don’t develop very strong navigational skills. You just put yourself on autopilot and go, because you know your lifelong bubble like the back of your hand. Not knowing where I am still happens to me often here. It’s disorienting. And it’s okay.
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The hardest part of living in a new place has been the unfamiliarity of it all. Not just the getting lost while driving, but not seeing anyone I recognize when I’m out and about. I still walk into Whole Foods, Target, or wherever else and hardly ever see a familiar face. And the rare times I do see someone I know, I’m so shocked that I’m almost speechless! Again, part of this is just an introverted homebody thing, but sometimes I miss the feeling of being in a store and running into someone who’s known me my entire life. Someone who knew me when…. I’ll never have that here. Nor will my girls. But I’ve learned that’s okay, too. I’d rather be deeply known by a few than run into everyone I know in a grocery store.
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So yes, after three years, I still feel like the new girl at times, but not nearly as much as I did in those first two years. And guess who’s developed a tender heart toward the new girl? You guessed it! I can appear almost extroverted when I meet a new girl, especially the quiet, introverted kind who doesn’t look like she knows where she fits in. I know that place so well by now and recognize it when I see it. I’ve actually formed a dear friendship with a new girl in the last year. She moved from her familiar, comfortable life in Minneapolis to an all new farm life in Franklin. Oh, how I can relate! It turns out, we’re kindred spirits in a lot of ways. Long, lingering visits at one of our farms has been a huge gift to my heart in the last year.
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Okay, so the getting lost and not feeling known or knowing others will make any move feel uncomfortable for most people, but add a whole bunch of farm animals to the mix and now you’ve got a girl who’s so out of her comfort zone that she couldn’t find her way back to it if she tried! I’m a different person than I was three years ago. And much of it has to do with living on a farm. It’s just messy! And the more animals you add to the mix, the messier it becomes.
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I still can’t believe we went from no pets to all these animals. I’ve lost count at this point. Sure, I could stop right now and count them all, but it’s not really the number that matters. It’s what they represent. Not only the mess, but the huge learning curve. Talk about newness! With each new kind of animal, you have a whole new set of things to learn. Even with the dreamy kind. I seem to forget this is true. So take the pony in our pasture for example. In my dream world, she’d just graze and gallop and look pretty. Nope. Her presence has thrown all the other animals out of balance. The alpha role has been seriously rocked. And of course, the mess. The bigger the animal, the bigger the mess! But as with all of the other animals on the farm, she’s teaching me things. About myself and about life. About beauty and brokenness.
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And this shedding Sheltie at my feet continues to deposit massive amounts of hair all over my house, but I’ve learned to let it go for longer periods of time. I don’t use the stick vacuum nearly as often. And the brown stripe across the skirt of my favorite white linen chair? Letting that go for now, too. Because if I wash it today, he’ll just rub his dirty farmdog body against it again tomorrow. Sometimes I shock myself with this increased tolerance for messiness and dirt. Animals have been a huge part of my therapy, but so has counseling, inner healing prayer and lots of time alone with God. I’ve learned that when your internal world is peaceful, you don’t feel the need to control your external world as strongly. And honestly, everyone in my family is thankful for that!
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So the hardest part of our move? Honestly, for us, it’s not the newness, the change, the starting over or even all the animals and hard work that goes into keeping a farm. We wish those things were the hardest parts of our move. All of those things would’ve been more than enough for any family.
But for us, the hardest part of our move has very little to do with the move itself. The move just exposed what we had ignored and avoided for so many years. When we got here, we moved into uncharted territories…physically, emotionally and spiritually. Three years in, here’s what I know: everyone has a story. And most of our stories need healing in some place or another. To receive the healing, you have to know where it hurts. {Think of a child who needs a kiss or a bandaid on an ouchie. The first thing they do is show you where it hurts.} Pressing into the hurting places is painful, but this is where the healing begins. The last three years have been the most broken kind of beauty I’ve ever known. But God continues to infuse hope into the hardest places. He’s doing a new thing! And while the process of being made into a new thing is painful at times, we’d rather be made new than go back to the way we were.
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As my oldest daughter wrote in her latest song, it’s messy to come alive. Everything about this move has been messy. But as I look at the four of us, I can see that we’re more alive than ever. Despite the hard parts of moving into uncharted territory, Ten 10 Farm has become a place of life for us. And our greatest joy is when we get to share the life we’ve found with others. Whether it’s having someone over for tea, cooking dinner for friends, sharing our eggs, or hosting an occasional beauty hunting retreat, we’re always looking for ways to give more life away.
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Wishing you abundant life right where you are today!
What good is beauty if you experience it all alone? Even God wanted to share the beauty He created. {And He chose us!} My heart beats with God’s in that way. I love beauty, and I love sharing it. So thank you, Bravehearted Beauties, for sharing in the beauty of Italy with me these last few posts. And for showing up here again and again to see what beauty can be found in every kind of place…even the broken places.
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Italy is a beautiful place. But ultimately, beauty makes a place worth visiting; people make a place worth remembering. Particularly your people. {Which is why home can be every bit as beautiful as any vacation spot.} Even more than the artistic and architectural details, the hilltop villages and dramatic coastlines, here’s why I loved Italy:
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Was it a perfect vacation? No. People aren’t perfect, so as long as you’re with people {including yourself}, you can bet it will be imperfect. But that’s part of the beauty…the imperfection.
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As I practice beauty hunting in everyday life, here’s one thing I’ve learned: just as you can find beauty in broken places, you can find beauty in broken people. We’re all broken people. And we’re all absolutely BEAUTIFUL. When you learn to embrace the beauty in your own brokenness, you become even better at embracing it in others.
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If we saw ourselves and each other through God’s eyes, it would take our breath away. Even more so than the dramatic coastline of Positano. You are that stunning!
Here’s to seeing beauty in people today!
P.S. My sister loves Italy, but her family made a wise decision to pass on this trip. I can’t even imagine trying to take in all that beauty with three little boys in tow…much less navigate the crowds and scooters, walk all day, and then the long, lingering meals that last late into night. Hard even for a superhero mom like my sister. But we can’t wait to see them here on the farm next month!
After all the walking in Florence and the day trips in the Tuscan countryside, we said goodbye to my parents and headed south to the Amalfi Coast for some sea therapy. Thanks to the recommendations of my aunt and a Houston neighbor who know me well, we stayed in the beautiful town of Positano all four nights instead of hopping along the coastline from town to town. And I’m so glad we did.
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Postiano took our breath away! It’s the most stunning coastline I’ve ever seen. It’s both rugged and elegant…my favorite combination. It’s one of those postcard perfect places…immediately recognizable once you’ve been and drop dead gorgeous in a photo no matter how average your photography skills are.
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In contrast to Florence, there was more astounding God-made glory: the steep cliffs, jagged mountain tops, the changing colors of the sea…things no man can replicate. Combine that with the man-made marvels of winding roads, colorful buildings stacked into the mountainside, and fantastic food…and you have a heaven on earth kind of place.
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We enjoyed our hotel so much that it’s worth a mention: Hotel Buca di Bacco. It was highly recommended by my aunt and Trip Advisor reviews. Finding a nice hotel for a family without breaking the bank is tricky in Europe, and especially in Positano. I love a bargain on most things, but I’ve learned I’m no longer a bargain girl when it comes to hotels. {I stayed at Motel 6 early in marriage and will camp in a tent if it speaks love to my family, but when I visit an elegant place, I like an elegant hotel.}
Our terrace was the perfect spot for relaxing.
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Buca di Bacco isn’t a steal, but after lots of research and seeing Positano first-hand, I can’t imagine a better place for the price. We enjoyed a great location, a newly updated suite with a beautiful bathroom, a large terrace overlooking the sea, and an incredible breakfast buffet with cappuccinos included! They also had a cooking school…something my husband enjoyed while the girls were at the beach and I devoured a friend’s newest novel, Happiness for Beginners. {A great summer read by the way.}
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Another Amalfi Coast tip: don’t drive yourself. The roads are curvier than any car commercial you’ve ever seen. Not to mention narrow and on the edge of a cliff! One of my husband’s patients recommended Giuseppe with Positano Drivers. We loved him. He picked us up at the train station in Naples, took us to a famous pizza place for lunch, stopped in Pompeii so we could walk through the ruins {fascinating!}, then on to Positano, his hometown. Not a bargain {nothing in Positano is}, but zero carsickness…and that’s saying a lot for a family who gets carsick easily.
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My final tip: see the coast from the water. This is true of any coast in my opinion, but the Amalfi Coast is particularly dramatic from the water. Charter a boat if you want to splurge, but at the very least, take a boat tour of some sort. I thought I found the best deal going and chartered a boat for half the price my husband had found. {Always the bargain girl!} But let me tell you: a boat is not where you want to save money. A slightly bigger boat would’ve made our time on the water a lot more pleasant. And that’s coming from a girl who’s spent a lot of summers on a boat and does not get seasick easily. I should’ve gone with my husband’s splurge on that one! Live and learn.
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Capri…
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Most boat tours will take you to Capri. Packed to the gills with tourists and people trying to sell you every kind of thing down by the water, so it wasn’t my favorite. But it’s one of those places you feel like you have to see if you’re there. Lots of high end Italian shopping for those who enjoy that kind of thing. I’m more of a beauty hunter than a beauty buyer, so I didn’t purchase a thing.
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Not our boat, but those are my people!
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The highlight of the boat trip: a long lunch at Conca del Sogno. The food was delicious! The best fried calamari and fired zucchini I’ve ever tasted. {A rare gluten fest for me.} And of course, the tomatoes and mozzarella were heavenly. The wildest part of our lunch was the storm that came right over the mountain and across the water out of nowhere. Glad we weren’t on our little boat at that moment!
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Life on the water: storming one moment, sunshine the next.
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Look at me being the travel guide with all these tips! Pretty funny for a homebody farmgirl. I’m no travel expert, but I hope those tips help you if you ever make it to the Amalfi Coast. And if you don’t make it in this lifetime, I’m betting there’s an even more stunning coastline in heaven! Talk about unspeakable glory! Nothing on this side of heaven compares to the glory that’s awaiting us.
For the love of beauty,
P.S. If you’re wondering where my people are in all these photos, I’ve got those tucked away for a post of their own…if they don’t mind me sharing in one final post. My people are my favorite part!
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Jennifer - So sorry to hear you broke your ankle. I hope it heals quickly for you, but until then, rest and enjoy the beautiful view your farm provides. Take care.
Kathy - I think I may be experiencing some of the same things right now. I’ve been diagnosed with Lyme and my energy has left me, which means I spend my days in bed focusing on getting better, leaving my ‘normal’ life in God’s hands, and trying to allow myself help from wonderful friends reaching out to me. Normally I am the one taking care of others! This is SO frustrating to me! However, this time is an opportunity to evaluate my ‘normal’ life and ask God to show me what changes need to be made.