Her Instagram profile was beautiful.
The vintage barn of my dreams.
The classic white clapboard farmhouse.
Shot after shot of kids romping through tall grass, pulling wagons, playing with chickens.
Captions like “unplugging on purpose,” “never going to town,” and “not participating in civilization.”
I scrolled and scrolled. Then came that feeling—you know the one. A lump in my stomach. Maybe even an ache. When I get those feelings, I’ve learned to pick them up, hold them in my hands, and look at them for a while.
My first thought: I want that.
Second thought: You basically have that, you idiot.
A third, quieter thought: You know that’s not enough for you…
That’s where I paused.
“Enough” is a slippery word that carries a lot of weight. One of our great modern problems is the itch for more—more stuff, more food, more status—more-more-more. It fills our landfills, our closets, our storage units, and our minds.
So among us countercultural folks, “wanting more” gets demonized—and for good reason. I’ve thrown plenty of rocks at it myself. The madness of modernity has made the simple life wildly attractive.
Compared to the beige suburban rat race, the 9–5 grind, and families scattered by a thousand activities, a quiet, calmer life speaks to us—as it should. It calls us back to nature, connection, and being human.
I heeded that call a long time ago—long before this homesteading life was trendy. And I still believe, to my bones, that it holds some of the most important keys for staying human in a world trying hard to convince us to become something else entirely.
But here’s the part I’ve been afraid to say out loud:
I need a little more.
I need to build things beyond chicken pot pie.
I need to create something besides clean laundry and washed dishes.
I need camaraderie, a team, and projects with other people.
I need to have solo adventures– just my horse and I.
I want to own real estate, invest, and build businesses.
I need fresh challenges and new adventures.
For a while, gardens and sourdough absolutely did that for me. And then, slowly, they became familiar—in a welcome, steady, “old friend” sort of way. That’s lovely for keeping the household humming in the background, but the challenge they once held wasn’t there anymore.
Around the same time, I realized my kids needed more, too. There was a beautiful, blissful season when running through pastures all day and playing on the living room floor was exactly right for them, and I’m forever grateful for that period.
But now they’re 15, 13, and 10. If they’re going to become who I know they can be, they need exposure to peers and other adults, leadership from sports, FFA, and 4-H, volunteer hours, and interactions with the public. They’ve cut their teeth dealing with opinionated horses, pushy milk cows, and bossy roosters, but there are lessons you only learn by soothing an irrational customer or untangling a complicated friend group dynamic.
Watching them navigate these moments, I see them growing in the richest ways.
Sometimes I wonder if this new batch of influencers will land in this place eventually—when the homestead honeymoon fades and kids get older. Or maybe I’m just the odd one who needs more than prairie dresses and garden baskets.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. Their road is theirs; mine is mine.
Once again, I find myself cutting a trail I don’t see many others walking.
Is there a way to live slowly and big?
To stay rooted and chase dreams?
To cultivate a home and a community?
To give my kids agrarian values without keeping them locked down on the homestead until they’re 21?
I think so. I hope so.
Because here’s the truth: even with the restaurant, the horsemanship, and kids in school and sports, I still love home—maybe now more than ever. Home is my safe place—my respite after long, busy days. I crave quiet nights by the fire, books written on paper, and candlelight. I still love sourdough and soil and food we raise ourselves. I still need days in the saddle, miles from anyone, where the only sign of humans is the rusty line of barbed wire keeping me company as I long-trot next to it.
I live for these contrasts—this paradox. We all contain multitudes; maybe we just need permission to admit it. We’re not one-dimensional, even though our human nature loves tidy boxes and black-and-white lines.
Once upon a time, I tried to make “simple” my finish line and learned it isn’t—at least not for me.
It’s the training ground that lets me do the outward work with clear eyes and steady hands.
So I’ll keep the kettle on, but I’ll also keep building.
Both are holy. And both are home.
Blazing this new trail,
-Jill
Thank you for being so transparent and honest Jill. I absolutely love this post. Thank you for sharing and putting into words what many of us in our “middle years” are feeling.
Thanks for reading along Rachel! I’m glad it resonated. 🙂
Yes! I bake my own bread, make my own mayo, tend my chickens and love being in my home. I also want to be challenged and learn and grow and do new things. Life is full of seasons and our purpose changes as we grow and as we watch our kids develop their own lives. I love following your story!
Amen! The both/and is so important– social media has compartmentalized things so much, it’s easy to forget that!
I totally feel this deep in my soul though you put it way more eloquently than I ever could. My kids are (mostly) grown and I’m not sure what to do with myself and my time now. It’s definitely a season of change. Because, like you, I’m not content to just keep doing what I’ve been doing. I feel if I’m not learning and growing that I’m moving backwards. Thanks for sharing.
Yes indeed. My take on this is that if a person is as you describe:an extroverted introverted homesteader and guiding the next generation, also caring for aging parents…there’s quite a lot less time for social. That’s why I really appreciate these posts! Thank you!! You’re rocking it and what is so cool is launching those amazing kids with that groundedness. Press on knowing that they have amazing skills. FFA is awesome for them. Also, it’s quite the grand moment to watch them fly from such a well watered roots.
Hear, hear! I live a single ingredient life, growing and raising what I can. I spin my yarn and knit my things. I love the peace those things bring me. I love creating a live my spouse and collected family enjoy. But I still have a brain, entirely too much education, and a passion to ….do…. something. Something that matters to more than just my chickens.
Jill,
You dropped off my notifications feed several months ago when I got a new client and read “carcinoma” on a medical test report. The client has decided to move to another state, my prognosis is a miracle to me, and you just returned to my notifications. “Thank you, Jesus” has become my new breath prayer – appropriate to all occasions above.
Enjoy those rides and continue to nurture this new tug at your soul. I put you on my prayer list and look forward to seeing the world though your eyes for a good long time.
Thank you, Jesus, for women like Jill.
Life, whether lived out in an urban or rural setting, requires flexibility. We’re constantly changing and adapting as we meet the demands of new chapters in our lives. The era that requires the most flexibility is the era of raising teenagers and preparing them for life.
It seems to me, that you’re adapting just fine. It is natural that your priorities have shifted… and it doesn’t mean you’ve lost sight of the things most important to you! Keep going! You owe no one an explanation!
You’ll be facing a new set of challenges when the kiddos are grown and gone- and I am SURE you’ll navigate that beautifully as well!
Well thought out! Agreed! You are a smart lady! Enjoy reading your posts. May God bless you and your family in all that you do!
Thank you, Jill. For putting into words what I have been feeling. Your honesty is refreshing and needed.
An enjoyable read. Sounds like you may have figured some of it out. For now anyway. Good stuff!
After seven decades of challenges and growth and change, I completely relate to your journey.
AMEN trail blazer! You are winning at this thing called LIFE…love how well you articulate your thoughts and even more amazed at your execution. We all need to quit being by standers in the audience and start doing the things that bring us joy! As always thanks for the pep talk and reminders!
I have been wondering how those who started homesteading when their kids were little would do as they got older…there are a few of you that I follow that are all in the phase of life with their kids that you are and its been interesting to see how each of you choose to balance homesteading and growing kids. It has been comforting in that while each if you choose some things differently, you keep the heart of what you set out to do–for you and for your whole family. It shows that it doesn’t have to be the same (and shouldn’t bee the same) as everyone else. And each phase can be reevaluated and shift with the family needs and not lose anything truly important.
Thanks for sharing.
Hi Jill!
I think you are speaking the thoughts many of us have. I don’t know if it is age or the crazy times we are in but I feel it too. I love my home, and the community I live in. I see my neighbors suffering with less because of the frontier nature of our community. Less access to healthcare is hard to watch and has become my jam. I decided to change things and got a group together to work on it. Then we became a nonprofit so we could get funding. There are lots of areas of “less” to choose from and lots we can do when we pull our community together. It has been extremely rewarding for me and I encourage anyone interested to try it. Start small, dream big, and organize your community. Everyone benefits. That is a concept from old fashioned living too, think barn raising.
This is exactly it! And I don’t even have my dream homestead yet but I do a lot of homestead-y things. And I’ve wondered if I’ll get bored once I accomplish my ideas…. And I’ve thought the same thing … will it be enough? However I know the Lord watches over us and if I need something else to do then it will appear and the way to get it done! ?? I love your emails and thanks for a pic of the Soda Fountain! I asked you for one last time 🙂 it is adorable and I wish I could come eat w you 🙂 Thanks for all of your “real”!
I feel this one hundred percent. For me, I am still in the mastering phase of sourdoughs, goat cheeses, and crocheted comforters. But for me, the difference is, I’m doing all this with chronic Lyme, fatigue, pain, and brain fog to drop a horse, lol! My goal is to be able to do all that I’m doing and still have enough energy left to enjoy it. And maybe someday, get my balance back under MY control so that maybe, just maybe! I can ride my horse again.
Excellent work!! Love your insight! Keep learning and living with grace and laughter!
Life changes so our needs and wants change. You are an intelligent person so “not enough” makes sense – you need to continue to grow. You choose to fulfill “more” by learning new skills, taking on new challenges, coming up with new ideas. Other choose to fulfill “more” with the literal translation – more clothes, food, stuff, etc. (Not making judgements here, just sharing observations.)
You and your family have created a solid base of values that allow you to explore new ideas and take on new challenges while still being true to your base. I call that successful child-rearing and a successful life.
Thank you for keeping it real!!
I just listened to your new episode of your podcast, and I realized I’ve missed a bunch of blog posts! I’m a long time listener, and I own both of your books because I enjoy rereading them so much. (I’m usually a library person, so this is high praise.) I never commented before, but I felt a bit compelled to after listening to today’s podcast and reading this post. I just wanted to say that I really like some of the points you raised today in your podcast, as well as questions you’re asking. I love gardening and cooking from scratch, which is part of what drew me to your content in the first place, but I live in the suburbs and have a job I also love. I’m a teacher, and I really value the way my work connects me and my family to a wider community and enables me to help others. I love my home and really enjoy days when I get to luxuriate in my safe haven, but I’d personally be unhappy if “the simple life” at home is all I lived. Your comments today about the politicization of homesteading and the tradwife movement also really resonated with me. I know I don’t share the same political beliefs of many people in the homesteading movement, but that always felt ok – like that isn’t what we’re talking about here in this space. I feel like something has shifted though, which makes the online homesteading world uncomfortable for me. It feels like there are a lot of voices saying you can’t have an old-fashioned life unless you fully embrace a particular version of it, which typically involves quitting my job, submitting my decision-making power to my husband, and changing my political beliefs. I really appreciate that you’re thinking about this too and that you’re considering different paths. I’m eager to hear more!