Letting Go and Letting God

There was a time when my entrepreneurial heart was tied tightly to online metrics, shipping deadlines, and the unpredictable algorithms of e-commerce platforms like Etsy. If you’ve run a small business for any length of time, you know the grind. You know how a single careless, unearned comment from a stranger can disrupt your peace, and how chasing "peddly orders" can quickly turn a passion into a chore.

But lately, the rhythm of the seasons has invited me to step away from the digital noise and step deeper into the dirt.

This year, I went back to my roots—literally. I upgraded my seed-starting station, turned on the grow lights, and spent hours tending to tiny green sprouts in the greenhouse and raised beds. And as full-swing garden season arrived, my focus shifted. The apothecary formulations and dried floral wreath projects I had planned for the local gallery got pushed to the back burner.

At first, it’s easy to feel guilty about that. We are told we always need to be producing, expanding, and selling. But the natural world doesn't work that way, and neither should we. There is a time for everything under heaven.

Right now, the Annabelle hydrangeas are a beautiful, quiet cream color. They aren’t ready to be harvested and dried for my signature wreaths yet—that beautiful stage won't come until the fall. And honestly? What a blessing. If everything demanded my attention all at once, the joy would be entirely squeezed out. God spreads the season out perfectly, giving us exactly what we can handle, right when we need it.

When we stop measuring our success purely by the dollar signs on a screen, the real abundance reveals itself.

Take my nectarine tree, for instance. For years, it’s been a battle against the local varmints and bugs. Because I choose a sustainable, "no-spray" approach, nature takes its toll. But this year, for the first time ever, the tree was absolutely loaded. We didn't keep it all to ourselves; we got to share the sweet, fresh fruit with so many people.

The same thing happened with a bumper crop of garden greens. They went to neighbors, friends, family, our church community, and yes—even the neighborhood pig and our own chickens!

It reminded me of a simple truth that is so easy to forget in a commercially driven world: I plant the seed, but God makes it grow.

Our role on a homestead isn't to control every outcome or squeeze a profit out of every square inch. Our role is stewardship. We put in the faithful, physical work of prepping the soil and planting the seeds, but the miraculous growth and the generosity it sparks are entirely His provision.

Seeing the garden as a tool to bring joy and bless others takes the heavy, frantic pressure off my shoulders. It's not just about making a dollar anymore. It's about learning, connecting, and celebrating the true wealth of a shared harvest.