Homesteading requires a laundry list of skills. Unfortunately, I lack most of them, like using an angle grinder and keeping rodents out of my water softener. However, my biggest strength is my inability to give up on something… and that always pays off, at least most of the time.
A while back, during a job interview, the manager asked me what my strengths and weaknesses were. I must have amused her some because I responded by asking if she wanted my wife’s list, or mine.
I proceeded to tell her that I think our strengths are our weaknesses, just in a different light. She was still confused, so I explained that I never quit. Most of the time, it’s considered persistence but my wife just affectionately refers to it as stubborn.
It’s my persistence that keeps us going. If I had any idea of what I was getting myself into, I would have never done this.
We all have different reasons for getting started, but I think most of us envision something similar. The image is beautiful, comforting, homely and reminiscent of a Thomas Kincaid painting. Ultimately, it’s a place that warms your heart… and soul.
I think most people, afraid of failure, eventually bubble wrap themselves, to protect them from unwanted experiences. But I don’t. I’ve learned to welcome those uncomfortable experiences. To embrace them, to accept them, and to learn from them. Being open to a bad experience keeps my expectations low and obviates most letdowns.
I’ve watched a lot of people give up homesteading recently. The gaps between their dreams and reality can’t be bridged. Their experiences and expectations are not met for many reasons. For some, it’s the cost of feed, for others, it’s the time commitment, and for some, it’s the disappointments that come along the way. It seems like we all have this vision of what homesteading is supposed to look like. But in the end… it doesn’t.
Recently, my wife said that homesteading isn’t for the faint of heart, or the faint of anything really. It’s not just baking bread in some frilly little dress like some people portray on social media. It’s real, and sometimes it’s mentally exhausting. The glitz and glamor that draws you in is quickly forgotten when you cull your first chicken.
The excitement of bringing home a calf from an auction was quickly subdued when we were trying to save his life. We were taking turns all night, trying to get colostrum and electrolytes inside of him, so he had a fighting chance. It was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone.
He may have looked like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree of calves, but he was adorable. We called him Peanut. When he collapsed over, he was playing dead. I was scared and we did everything we could, but it wasn’t enough.
My wife took a picture of his face and body, not to be disturbing, but to be real and authentic. Homesteading isn’t for everyone. It’s not a walk in the park. It’s real and sometimes, it feels like it’s more than I bargained for.
