Staring at our tiny home in utter disarray, I feel so pleased with the life we have made. The way we have ordered our priorities. We don’t have very much money. We cannot buy many toys for our son. But we have strived to give him open space to roam free, a whole wilderness to explore. We created a life where he gets to see and work with his mom and dad daily: family rides in “the Ranger” to feed the animals, playing with the door of the chicken coop while we collect the eggs, opening the gates for us as we drive into the cow pastures (he has a thing for gates and doors), and driving his wagon vigorously around daddy while he labours in the garden. All of this brings me such joy, in part at least because of the intentionality this life has required. It requires imagination and determination to live differently than what one has seen and been taught, to creatively reorder the landscape of one’s life. We chose this, hoped for this, and didn’t know if we could ever have this. And while I in no way can attribute what we have to anything but Grace, I know that it started with choice. To choose to want, to dream, to hope. Then hope serendipitously materialized to opportunity. And though we had dreamily discussed the simple life for years, we didn’t know for sure, couldn’t have known for sure, how we would feel once we had the occasion to enact these ideals. What if we had build it all up in our heads? What if it really wasn’t enough? What if you actually do need more stuff and the entertainment of the city to be happy?
All we could do was try.
And while it has only been three months, and I am sure there will be many challenges still to come, we are gleefully discovering that the life we had envisioned was in fact what we’d been longing for all along.