A mom asked me recently, “How do you do everything—the farm, the kids, the housework?”
Without thinking, I blurted out the absolute truth: “I don’t. I can’t.”
Maybe you can relate?
My home is often messy. My porch? Let’s not even talk about those piles of shoes, barn coats, and odd recycling mixed in. I’ve been deeply embarrassed more than once when a visitor needed to use our bathroom. I would cringe, apologizing for the clutter, the dishes on the counter, laundry behind the door, the evidence of a busy, occasionally chaotic life (once again we have baby chicks in the shower, and likely a bottle lamb or two will join them in the coming weeks).
But last year a woman said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“Oh, I feel more comfortable in a home that’s not perfect, dear.”
Wow.
Her words were just what I needed to hear in that moment as I tried to quickly slip dishes into the sink, triaging what else I should tuck away before she saw too much. I had been holding myself to a difficult standard, thinking I really should have clear counters and an always-clean bathroom.
But what if the very things I was ashamed of… were actually the things that made people feel at home?
What if running a real farm, raising a family, and living fully just means the house is messy sometimes—and that’s okay?
That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. But I’ve consciously started thinking differently—not out of guilt, but out of respect. Respect for my home, my work, and my peace of mind.
And one key shift?
I realized I don’t have to do it all alone.
We’re a family of seven (mostly girls—can you imagine the shoes alone?!). And instead of nagging or carrying the weight myself, I now invite everyone into a new value:
“We take care of our space because we take care of each other.”
That phrase has been a blessing. I stopped using complicated chore charts—just 5- to 10-minute resets after meals with all hands on deck. A little tidying, a little teamwork, and suddenly the load is lighter. The kids pitch in more willingly because they know it’s quick. And I get to be back outside in the spring sunshine where I love to be.
If you’ve ever looked around your home and felt behind, or if you’ve apologized for the state of your car or kitchen or life… I want to pass along the same grace I was given.
You don’t have to do everything. Start small, ask for help. Because allowing someone to help you is allowing them to love you.
I’m the oldest of six siblings. Years ago, I backed into and dented my youngest sister Ruthie’s car and felt so terrible. But she was so gracious. She smiled and assured me repeatedly: “Don’t worry about it – its okay, its really ok!” Later, my mom told me Ruthie came home that day in the best mood and said, “Even Leah makes mistakes sometimes!”
I had no idea I was intimidating to her. My mistake made me more human—and that turned out to be a gift between us.
And maybe—just maybe—the things you’re most embarrassed by… are the very things that make people feel comfortable and connected to you.
Sending you love from my beautifully imperfect, well-loved home & farm,
Leah
P.S. Have you ever had a moment of discovery like this—where something you felt bad about turned out to be a gift? I like to ponder these things:
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”
—2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
Meet Ruthie!
This is my littlest sister, and she is pure joy to be around. She’s one of the hardest workers I know—always giving her all to every project, and doing it with a smile. This spring, she’s been blessing our family with her time as we clean out the barn and prep for some unique painting projects (I can’t wait to show you what we’re working on—it’s going to be so fun!)”
