The NOLA Homestead

06/13/2026

🩷

06/13/2026

06/10/2026

06/10/2026

A Great Pyrenees doesn’t “like” you.

They choose you.

And once they choose you, it’s permanent.

They watch the house.
They watch the yard.
They watch the sky.

But most of all — they watch you.

Not because they’re curious.
Because you are their responsibility.

You’ll notice it in small ways.

The way they position themselves between you and the door.
The way they sit facing outward while you relax.
The way they stay alert even when they look half-asleep.

They aren’t just living in your home.
They’re guarding your life.

There’s something deeply moving about that kind of devotion. It’s not loud affection. It’s not constant excitement. It’s steady. Unbreakable. Rooted.

A Great Pyrenees doesn’t love lightly.

They love like a mountain — solid, immovable, enduring through storms.

And when that massive, protective soul leans against you for comfort?

You realize even guardians need softness too.

That’s the magic of this breed.

Fierce when necessary.
Gentle by choice.
Loyal beyond words 🤍🐾

06/08/2026

With those I love 🥹 and the presence of YHWH

All I’ve ever wanted is a little land and a lot less noise. Slow mornings, garden days, fresh air, and a simple life raising my family close to home. In a world pushing for more, I’ll choose peace every time. How about you?

06/07/2026

There is a quiet kind of beauty found in the life we build at home.

In the golden light of early mornings, in the gentle rhythm of read-alouds and garden rows, and in the ordinary moments that often go unnoticed, God has a way of reminding us that a simple life can be a deeply meaningful one.

Homeschooling and homesteading have slowly taught me that life does not have to be hurried to be full.

Not every lesson comes from a workbook.

Some are found in tiny hands gathering eggs before breakfast. Some are hidden in flour-dusted kitchens and muddy garden beds. Others are discovered while reading stories beneath a shady tree or listening to the laughter of children carried on the evening breeze.

These simple rhythms have become some of my greatest teachers.

They remind me that growth takes time.

That faithfulness matters more than perfection.

And that the Lord’s goodness is often revealed in the ordinary moments we are tempted to overlook.

Jesus Himself spoke of seeds and sparrows, bread and vineyards. He pointed hearts toward heaven through the everyday things of life. Perhaps that is why these quiet tasks feel so sacred. They invite us to slow down and notice the beauty of God’s handiwork all around us.

I am learning that a successful day is not measured by spotless counters or checked boxes.

It is found in warm coffee shared before the house awakens.

In well-loved books and curious questions.

In little feet running barefoot through the grass.

In tomatoes ripening on the vine.

In meals gathered around the table.

And in the quiet assurance that God’s grace meets us here, right in the middle of our ordinary days.

Some seasons are abundant.

Some are messy.

Some lessons unfold beautifully, while others end with laughter and dishes left in the sink.

But perhaps that is where the sweetest memories are made.

We were never called to strive endlessly.

There is beauty in cultivating a life that blooms slowly. A life rooted in gratitude, shaped by grace, and centered on what matters most.

So here is to wildflowers on the table and fresh bread in the oven.

To read-aloud afternoons and dirt beneath our fingernails.

To raising children who know they are deeply loved.

And to finding joy in the beautiful life God has graciously given us.

Because sometimes the richest life is not the busiest one.

Sometimes it is simply the one that is deeply rooted in the simple things.

06/04/2026

06/02/2026

There is a quiet longing that lives in the hearts of many women.

You can find it in the mother folding laundry long after everyone else has gone to bed. In the homeschool mom wondering if she is doing enough. In the wife praying for her marriage. In the woman carrying burdens no one else can see.

We often come to Jesus needing healing.

Healing for exhaustion. Healing for disappointment. Healing for strained relationships. Healing for old wounds.

And thank God, He is a Healer.

But recently, I have been reflecting on the difference between healing and wholeness.

Throughout Scripture, we see Jesus touch people and bring miraculous healing. Blind eyes opened. The lame walked. The sick were restored. His touch changed lives.

Yet there is one story that always captures my heart.

A woman who had suffered for twelve years pushed through a crowd just to reach Him. She wasn’t waiting for Jesus to come to her. She pursued Him. She stretched out her hand and touched the hem of His garment.

What happened next was more than healing.

Jesus stopped. He saw her. He called her “daughter.”

Her condition was healed, but her identity was restored.

Healing addressed her need. Wholeness restored her personhood.

As women, we often spend our days meeting the needs of everyone around us. We prepare meals, teach lessons, wash dishes, pull weeds from the garden, tend animals, pay bills, encourage our children, and carry concerns that never make it into conversation.

Life can become a cycle of solving problems.

But Jesus did not come merely to fix our problems.

He came to restore us.

That truth speaks deeply to me as I walk this season of homemaking, homeschooling, and building a life centered on faith and family. On the homestead, I am constantly reminded that growth takes place beneath the surface long before fruit appears.

A seed must first take root.

A tree must be strengthened before it can bear weight.

A garden needs more than a quick watering. It needs ongoing care, nourishment, and cultivation.

The same is true for our hearts.

Sometimes we ask God to heal a single situation while He is inviting us into something deeper. He wants to restore our identity, renew our minds, strengthen our families, and draw us into greater intimacy with Him.

He wants wholeness.

Wholeness reaches beyond physical healing. It restores peace where anxiety has lingered. It restores purpose where discouragement has settled. It restores relationships where division has taken root. It restores intimacy with God where distraction has crept in.

And often, it begins with pursuit.

The woman with the issue of blood reached for Jesus.

Perhaps that is the invitation for us today.

Not simply to ask for His touch, but to seek His presence. Not merely to bring Him our needs, but to pursue His heart.

Whether you are a mother, a homemaker, a homeschool teacher, a gardener, a business owner, or simply a woman trying to faithfully follow Jesus in everyday life, His invitation remains the same:

Come closer. Reach for Him.

Because when Jesus touches us, healing comes.

But when we pursue Him, we discover the wholeness our souls have been longing for all along.

So today, my prayer remains simple:

Lord, touch them.

Touch the weary mother. Touch the struggling marriage. Touch the prodigal child. Touch the woman carrying silent burdens. Touch the heart that feels forgotten.

And as He does, may we continue reaching for Him, trusting that His desire is not only to heal what hurts, but to restore what has been lost.

Because healing addresses the need, but wholeness restores the person. 🌿🤍

05/30/2026

Earlier, we passed a pasture full of cows peacefully grazing. 🐄

No rushing.
No striving.
No panic.

Just feeding on what had already been provided.

As I watched, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper: “My hand is the pasture.”

That spoke VOLUMES to my spirit!!! How often do we exhaust ourselves chasing what God has already promised to provide?

The cows weren’t searching for another field. They weren’t worried about tomorrow’s grass. They weren’t competing for provision.

They were simply resting in what their owner had prepared.

🙌🏼 And isn’t that exactly what the Shepherd invites us into? 🥹🙌🏼

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want…” (Psalm 23)

So many of us are busy carrying Kingdom assignments while our souls are carrying burdens we were never meant to bear.

📢There is a difference between obedience and striving.

📢There is a difference between diligence and anxiety.

📢There is a difference between working and worrying.

Jesus said, “Look at the birds of the air…” (Matthew 6:26).

The birds still fly.
The sheep still graze.
The cows still eat.

Yet creation trusts the Creator more than many of us do.

What if we stopped fighting for what God has already placed in His hand?

What if we stopped obsessing over tomorrow and started feasting on His faithfulness today?

The pasture isn’t a place.
The pasture is His presence.
The pasture is His care.
The pasture is His provision.
The pasture is His peace.

Stay close to the Shepherd. Keep your eyes on Him. Keep grazing in His goodness.

Because the grass is always greener where His hand rests.

And where His hand rests, provision will never be lacking. ❤️‍🔥🌿

🌾 Our hands may be busy doing the work of the Kingdom, but our souls were created to rest in the pasture of His presence. 🌾