To be honest with you, it hasn't really been my focus. We've been so entrenched in the work that we
haven’t really considered the cost-cutting part of this transition. We've still been going out for dinner and I
treated myself to a new pair of Hunter boots off eBay and yes, there are
indulgences that we could have done without.
The consequence of this carelessness is that our hand has been
forced. Now that the weather is
changing, we’re limited on what we can do outside and so comes the time to
focus on finance. Except now we have no
choice but to make cuts. Between now and
December when Ian’s company pays shares and bonuses, the belt will be tightened
so much we might be blue in the face.
You won’t be seeing us eating out at Milestones or shopping for fancy
farm foot ware anytime soon. So it
really begins here, the life and sacrifices of a homesteader. We knew this would be the pay-off for the
lifestyle we've chosen but let see how the theory translates into practice.
That was the blog post I had drafted on Wednesday. But then something happened. I met a lady who unknowingly impacted on me
with such force; it made me collide with a critical analysis of myself. I haven’t sought this woman’s permission to
disclose her information so for the sake of this post, we’ll call her Kate.
Kate and I met by chance and she came to the farm. During the course of our meeting, she told me
her story. Up until a few years ago,
Kate’s family were average hardworking people.
Kate had worked all her life to give the best to her own three children
and two boys that she fostered. Her
story was much like any other until their life was touched by an event of immeasurable
cruelty. Kate projects resilience and strength,
but her eyes tell a story of trauma.
Kate has made sacrifices to try and regain some stability for her
family. These are not the kind of sacrifices
I am making. My whining makes me ashamed
in the presence of people like Kate “oh
poor me, I can’t go out for dinner”, “eeewww, a snake slithered over my foot”, “I’m
working so hard, my muscles ache”. I
think that’s what you call ‘a real first-world problem’; these are challenges, not
sacrifices.
Kate walked around Laurica Farm in awe. She talked about her love for the outdoors
and the beauty of the farm. She listened
intently to our plans and asked questions.
Kate gave me perspective. I will
not talk about sacrifices again. Being
here is not a sacrifice, being here is a privilege. We have to work hard, but who doesn't. At least this is our choice. Kate’s circumstances are out of her
control.
And so, thanks to Kate, as summer ends and fall takes hold,
I am filled with a new determination. I
am determined not to be complacent, to keep perspective on the work and demands
and, most importantly, to keep enjoying this challenge.
Here here Cathy. Well done you and well done for doing what you truly love, unlike millions of people worldwide because it takes courage to do that and a huge risk BUT you're doing it! One day Ash and I will come out cruise your homestead (invited of course not gatecrashing lol!) purchase some of your home grown wares and take you and Ian and the kids out for a well deserved dinner!! So watch this space and in the meantime thank you so much for your blogs - love reading them xx
ReplyDeleteWell Megan, I'd like to extend an open invitation to you and Ash. :-) Thanks for your comments, it's great when people comment and share these posts. It's funny you should offer your thoughts today. I just had an e-mail from Kate talking about what her visit meant to her. It made me think about 'the cost of kindness'. To me, kindness meant a chat, a tour of the farm and some jam that I'd made, but to Kate it meant so much more....neither of us had any idea of the impact we had on the other. It's made me think about other ways to 'pay it forward'. I think we might donate some space to community organizations to have their own gardens. xxx
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