It was a hot September night. The air was heavy as summer lingered on and the sun set slowly over the Pacific. I was making my way slowly but surely up the old familiar hill to my frentors’ (friend+mentor) home to celebrate the life of their then youngest daughter. It was her birthday. And while overjoyed to celebrate her, my heart was heavy.

My dad was dying. One of my dearest friends on this earth was dying a difficult, cancerous death. Cancer of the tongue left him with few options for treatment. So he opted for quality of life over quantity and we were making the most of the time we had left with him. 

Leaving him that night left me with mixed feelings. But if I’ve learned anything from care taking, it’s that breaks are necessary, and celebrating life is important.  Whether it’s the life of a vibrant and creative 2 year old, or a charismatic and caring 62 year old whose numbered days are dwindling, life is always worth celebrating.

So I went to the birthday party. As we sang happy birthday and she blew out the candles, I quite literally bumped into a couple who unknowingly changed my life in an instant. I asked them about what they did for a living and when they told me they ran a ranch up north pairing troubled youth with rescued horses. “That’s possible?” I thought to myself. 

I knew in an instant my purpose in life was now so much more than becoming a therapist, but that I would be a counselor whose office did not have four walls, but fresh earth beneath my feet, soil in my hands, working with people on horseback and in the garden.

I went home that night and had the most vivid dream of a ranch house on a hill. 

I trotted up the hill on horseback while the lush green food and pollinator gardens surrounding the home fluttered in the wind. There were rescue animals, a big old barn, tiny homes and an impending sense of, “I’d better get this place ready for everyone who is about to arrive”. I woke up from this knowing my purpose on this Earth in a whole new way, filled with joy and a determined spirit to see that vision come to life.

But by November, just 8 days before my 22nd birthday, my father went to be with the Lord. My mom holding his left hand, me holding his right, the sun rose over the local foothills as he breathed his last breath, and we ushered him into the arms of Jesus. I spent time grieving his death, questioning everything, deconstructing my faith, only to rebuild it stronger than ever, steadfastly focussed on my new life goal: a healing ranch. 

So I went back to school to complete my graduate education in clinical psychology. I met the love of my life line dancing at our one and only local saloon. We got married and it seemed like things were finally on the mend after so many hard and grief filled years. But then… “adulting” became very real very quickly. 

I soon felt overwhelmed with completing my hours for licensure, learning how to “wife”, and make ends meet financially. My ultimate farm dream felt like a far off fantasy that I might as well let go of.

And as I let the dream go, my joy went with it. 

The steadfast, determined, joy filled woman I once was, slowly became overrun with sadness, fear, depression, and hopelessness that my dream would ever come to pass. 

To fill the void, I would watch farmers online… farm. It became my obsession. So much so that husband knew if he came out to the living room to find me curled up under my fuzzy blanket, laptop open, tears streaming down my face, that I was watching videos about farming feeling like it would never happen for me. But one night, by the grace of God, an old volleyball friend’s latest venture filled my feed.

“He’s raising chickens? In the desert? Here in California? He started a farm??” A family I once played beach volleyball with had started a farm. “But I thought he was a CPA? How is he doing this? And why?”

Totally intrigued, I started following along. And as I did, I learned more and more about the corruption of the food system and the power of regenerative agriculture. I quickly realized that the food and pharma systems were direct contributors to my father’s condition, and ultimately, his death. 

Filled with a new fervor to make these wrongs right, knowing that regenerative agriculture is what God always intended for us and that maybe my dream was not all for not, I started digging in further. 

Paul led me to Joel Salatin, who led me to Justin Rhodes, who led me to Jessica Sowards. I like to say it like this. Paul showed me anyone could farm, Joel showed me how, Justin showed me how to do it on a small scale, and Jessica pushed me off the ledge to do it myself.