I often lament that people don’t seem to understand how busy I am. I work full time. I am building a farm. I serve at church. I have too many projects I need to keep up with at home; still finishing our buildings, for goodness’ sake. The list goes on. I realize it sounds like I’m whining and it sometimes is, but people just don’t understand how busy I am.
The point is, I missed an update yesterday. I worked until 4, needed to use the shower at my parents’ at 5:30, church at 6:30, stayed until 9 to fix the sound system. Home, food, sleep.
I don’t know how people do it and remain sane.
This is a large part of what has driven us to do what we’re doing: leaving the Modern American life behind and pursuing what I would call the “Historic American” lifestyle.
American living has, since roughly the 1920s, been devoted to consumerism and comfort. I’ve often reflected that the Holy Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit has been replaced by the American Trinity of Money, Comfort and Power. What a cheap imitation of the real thing.
In 2019 my great uncle died. I remember sitting at the funeral, thinking back on the times I’d been able to spend with him. They weren’t many, but they were all good. He was a good guy; he loved the Lord. He bore good fruit. Sometime after that funeral, my wife and I were at the county fair. We were walking through the tractors on display, and I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“This” was referring to the rat race. At the time I’d been recruited by a major US brand for a technical position. I would have cleared 6 figures for the first time in my life. I was serving in many prestigious roles. I was sought after. But it wasn’t feeding me. I didn’t care about any of it. If you took it all away, it would mean nothing to me.
So I left it. It wasn’t immediate. I turned down the job offer. I took a job working at a podunk health system as their purchasing manager in order to be closer to the farm. I worked that job through Covid and I lost my mind. So, I quit. And took a job working from home for another healthcare system I’d previously worked for. I still work this job. My boss is the best I’ve had and I love my co-worker. All-in-all, if I’m going to build a rural life, I’ve got it as good as I could hope for.
Minus the lack of patience. That’s the hardest part for me. I have no patience to speak of. Nor do I have much of an attention span. Old dreams keep haunting me and distracting me from the job at hand. I keep reminding myself “Eyes on the farm.” When I start looking at writing or video games, I have to remind myself, “Eyes on the farm.” When this is running and I can step away from full-time work, I can look at the other options.