Countrified.

So I am pretty sure I just made up that word.  It’s what I’m about to be.  

Wishing.  Hoping.  Praying.  We just bought our dream house.  An acreage in the country.


We have been waiting.  Waiting for the next step.  Waiting for the right thing.  Waiting for dreams to come true.


I’m still pinching myself to make sure I am still alive.  When I wrote this post (Going to Town) back in October, I had no earthly idea that such a thing could really be on the horizon for my family.  


I’m not from the country.  I have never lived in the country.  I have read a lot about living in the country, but have zero experience.  If you are a townie like me, the mere thought is entirely exhilarating and a trifle frightening at the same time.

We don’t even own necessary “country” things like a shovel.  Or a ladder.   Or overalls.  Yet. 

Ten years ago, I was living in a bustling city and I would have told anyone who asked me that it was the life I forever wanted.  My, how things have changed.  My stellar hubby and I have long dreamed of country quiet and the pursuit of a modern-day homestead.  We are not yet old, but most certainly not getting any younger.  So naturally, the time to pursue such things is now.  We’ll probably make some mistakes.  But isn’t that half the fun?

It’s a project house.  There are paint colors to be picked, wood floors to be waxed, and gardens to grow.  And I couldn’t be more thrilled.


My sweet husband has ordered our yet-to-be bred dog whom he has already affectionately named, Kujo.  I am notoriously black-thumbed, yet he has mapped out a gargantuan garden plot for our family.  He has so much faith in me.  There is also talk of chickens, goats, and a horse… all in good time, of course. 


This is my last night as a townie.  And I am okay with that.  So the adventure begins…


Stick around.  Check in.  I’ll be back in full force soon.  So much good is coming this way.  


Love and coffee.

Psalm 27.13-14