💫 Grace in the Chaos

Hearts, Training, and Living with a Purpose

🌅 Opening Scene

By now, most people probably know how my mornings go.
Monday through Friday, I’m up early — off to my job before the sun. On weekends, things move a little slower, but the to-do list never really ends.

What most don’t see is how Emily and the rest of my family make it all work behind the scenes. While I’m out the door before daylight, Emily’s got the morning shift at home — making sure our kids are up, dressed, and ready for school. She’s the steady rhythm that keeps everything in motion.

Most mornings start with a phone call from me just to make sure everyone’s awake by 6:45. From there, it’s a whirlwind — breakfast, hair brushes, backpacks, and checking on the chicks. Lila usually feeds the chicks, while the boys handle the outdoor flock when they’re not running late.

Emily’s the caregiver of the crew, the one who fills the water bottles and makes sure homework is packed. On weekends, she gets a little extra rest, while one by one, the kids make their way outside to sit with me on the porch. Eventually, she joins us — sometimes with a book, sometimes just with a quiet smile — ready to start whatever the day brings.

If I had to describe her grace, I’d call it steady.
She has her own challenges, but she meets life head-on with an open heart. She’s calm where I’m quick to react. She has a short fuse sometimes — we both do — but she balances me out in all the best ways.

If I had to capture a single image of our home, it would be a quiet hill with a thunderstorm in the distance. You don’t know if it’s going to come your way or pass you by — but even in the tension, there’s beauty.

🛠️ Section 1 — Emily, My Work Balance

Our work together just works.
We’ve always filled in the gaps for each other — where I fall short, she steps in, and where she struggles, I find my footing. Alone, we’re not the whole. Together, we make it work.

Our days overlap like gears turning in a clock — separate pieces, same purpose. We’ve learned when to step in and when to step back, when help is helpful and when it just gets in the way. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.

Evenings are where things fall into place again. I get home from my 7-to-4 job, and one of us starts dinner. Often it’s me at the stove, and she’s helping with homework or getting dishes squared away. Then it’s time for feeding — chickens and coops for me, dogs and horses for her. Sometimes I’ll grab a bowl and make sure the quiet eaters get their share while she checks the kennels.

It’s all unspoken teamwork — the kind you only learn through years of figuring each other out.

Something that never stops amazing me is how she handles the kids.
I’m not going to lie — they can test every ounce of patience I have. But Emily? She endures their noise, chaos, and constant motion with more grace than I thought possible.

And then there’s her heart for animals. She has this ability to open herself to every creature that crosses her path. She’ll take on things I’d never say yes to. Her compassion stretches farther than logic sometimes — but that’s what makes her who she is.

We’ve learned that patience and teamwork don’t come naturally — they’re learned through exhaustion, through faith, through the days when one of us can’t carry the weight and the other quietly does.
When one of us is running low, the other somehow finds the strength. That balance is a blessing I never take for granted.

When things feel overwhelming, what centers us is simple — each other.
Sometimes you just need to hold on a little longer, take that breath together, and let grace do its work.

🐾 Section 2 — The Animals That Teach Us

I’ve learned that Emily sees things I don’t — especially with animals.
She has an eye for the subtle: the flick of a tail, the look in a dog’s eyes, the moment between trust and fear. Dogs seem to understand her almost instantly, even the ones that have every reason not to trust anyone.

I’ve watched her work with animals that others called mean, broken, or hopeless. Within hours, they’re calm, listening, looking to her for guidance. She sets boundaries, but she does it with kindness. It’s something I’ll never fully understand, but I see the grace of God in it.

Our kids love being part of it — the feeding, the play, the simple act of caring. Sure, there are hard lessons, like when a dog gets to a chicken before we do, but they’re learning what it means to be gentle and responsible.

It’s funny — animals that seem aggressive toward me often act calm around the kids. Maybe it’s innocence; maybe it’s lack of judgment. Either way, it’s beautiful to watch.

Living with so much life — animals, kids, and land — has changed how I see God’s creation.
I used to think stewardship was just about caring for the land. Now I see it’s about caring for everything that breathes, even when it’s messy, inconvenient, or hard.

And thank God Emily is the dog trainer, not me — because I still think every animal ought to earn its keep. She reminds me that grace doesn’t always need a purpose to exist. Sometimes, love itself is the work.

🌿 Section 3 — Grace in the Chaos

Grace in the Chaos — I think it means learning to pause.
When life feels heavy, when everything seems to pile up at once, it’s taking that breath before reacting. It’s the choice to let the moment pass through you before you let it define you.

Today was one of those days.
Nothing seemed to go right, and motivation was nowhere to be found. Gratitude felt out of reach, and grace took effort. I tend to go quiet on days like that — not out of anger, but because I don’t want anyone else to carry my mood.

Usually I’ll find something small to do — a job that needs finishing, a chore that distracts me just enough to reset. Emily always notices, though. She doesn’t push; she just knows.

Faith carries us through those moments.
It’s hard to stop and lean on God when everything feels out of rhythm, but that’s when we need it most. Sometimes grace isn’t the calm before the storm — it’s the breath you take right in the middle of it.

For us, grace often looks like prayer — not perfect, not quiet, but honest. Sometimes it’s a prayer whispered before dinner while trying to quiet the kids for thirty seconds. Sometimes it’s one said over sleepy children at bedtime when the noise finally fades.

Patience at bedtime might be one of our truest tests. We start at seven and usually finish by nine, but even in that chaos, there’s love. Grace isn’t the absence of noise — it’s the peace that finds its way through it.

💞 Section 4 — Faith at the Heart of It

Working together hasn’t changed our relationship so much as it’s revealed it.
The struggles we faced early on built the foundation we stand on now. Each season since has added another layer to it — stronger, steadier, more intentional.

Dreaming together has become part of how we fill the spaces in between.
Emily’s the dreamer; I’m the realist. She sees things in full color where I see blueprints and lumber lists. She’s the one who says, “Why not?” when I’m counting the costs. Without her, I’d settle for a tidy little shop and call it home. She makes me see what could be, not just what is.

Decision-making is usually a conversation — and sometimes a negotiation. We talk through what’s needed and when. Her dog rescue might take priority one week, and my farm projects the next. It’s a rhythm built on respect and shared purpose.

Our teamwork doesn’t look traditional. It’s quiet, sometimes messy, but it works. We wash dishes together, weed together, and build together — and even when it takes the kids five times longer to hammer in a nail, it’s worth it.

As for what’s next — the dream is home.
She wants more horses, and I’m planning new buildings for the gardens and chicken processing. Maybe one day I’ll build a space big enough for both — her dogs and my tools under one roof.

For now, though, we’re just taking it one dream at a time.

✨ Section 5 — Hearts, Training, and Living with a Purpose

Finding rest when life never slows down isn’t easy.
For me, this blog has become that rest — a way to pause and reflect, to see the good that might get lost in the noise. Writing has become prayer in motion.

Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)
That verse finds me often. Life out here demands movement, but God reminds me that rest isn’t laziness — it’s trust.

I see that same trust in Emily every day. The dogs ground her, giving her a place to pour her heart into. Through them, she’s found her calling — and watching her do what she was made for shows me what faith in action looks like.

We’ve both learned that trusting God’s timing is hard. Patience doesn’t come naturally in a world that runs on instant results. But every delay, every pause, has a purpose. Even when we don’t see it yet, He’s already working it out.

Whatever season we’re in — building, waiting, or resting — we know we’re not walking it alone.

🌾 Closing Reflection

Grace isn’t quiet or still.
It’s the strength that shows up between the barking dogs, the muddy boots, and the laughter of our children.
It’s what turns the work into purpose — and the noise into music.