A Life of Stewardship

Throughout my journey of learning what it means to live simply and slowly I’ve found myself asking a few recurring questions:

Do I need it?

Can I make it or grow it?

Is there a local artisan or farmer I can support?

Is it sustainably and ethically made?

Each of these questions holds an equal weight in my heart and as they weave together I’m beginning to learn what it is to be a good steward; of my home, my family, my community, and in turn human life and the environment.

In asking these questions, I’ve learned first that there is a great deal which I can live without, especially at the cost of human rights and the environment. Eliminating the purchase of imported goods made from factories overseas with unethical working conditions and wages has lifted a weight from my home that I hadn’t realized was there. All the while there is less to take up space in my tiny home, and what remains holds story, value, and purpose.

What’s more, I have found within myself an ability to make and grow a great deal more than I ever may have believed myself capable, if not for the will to try coupled with an unexpected two (plus) years of extremely limited means. While living in a season of financial uncertainty has not been easy, I have come to recognize the challenge as my necessary companion, providing more opportunity for creativity in place of ready made purchases—the nudge I may have needed all along.

And with each new skill I’ve learned, I’ve gained perspective and appreciation for artisans, makers, and farmers. I’ve come to a greater understanding of the true cost of time, talent, and materials needed to produce a product. As for the countless tasks/projects I’ve committed myself to, only to find I had not properly prepared or did not have the energy for such undertakings at the time, I’ve either learned to once more to go without or I’ve noted a plan to better prepare and prioritize for the coming seasons.

As I’ve sought to support local artisans and farmers, I’ve found that beyond the busyness of the city is a community of makers and growers who share a kindred appreciation for purposeful practices. Bringing their provisions into our home carries with it a sense of old time-y community that I have long been searching for—a village within the city.

And for the needs which remain beyond my reach, I have made for myself a little directory of shopkeepers who have given their hearts to creating and sourcing sustainably and ethically produced goods which honor people and the planet. And to my sweetest surprise, perhaps through the very nature of shopping small with kindred businesses and holding a deep gratitude for what goes into their work, I have been granted the honor to know a few of these women as treasured friends and mentors alike. These families have modeled what is to stand firm on a foundation and how sincerity of heart will always transcend the cultural lure of quick gains.

While I don’t shop often, when I do, I shop thoughtfully and with intention. I plan for our coming needs, discuss them with my husband, budget accordingly, and go into the purchase with a grateful heart for what we are able to get and who we are able to support through it all.

What’s more, and perhaps most meaningful of all, knowing the names and creating a connection with these shopkeepers has deepened our gratitude for what we have, like treasured gifts from dearest friends.

As my little girls grow in their understanding of where their items come from, their gratitude grows with it. The moment our newest long johns arrived from Chasing Windmills, the girls eagerly climbed into their cozy merino and ran out to the garden to pick a bouquet for our friend Sarah, the mama and heart behind this beloved shop. They ask questions about her home and her family, and have asked to paint her pictures to send in the mail, “because she is so kind and loving, and it would kind and loving to send her a picture.” These moments mean so very much to my heart—more than I feel I can articulate in this journal.

Our friend Ashley of Mouse in the House, has the most beautiful selection of ethically and sustainably made heirloom goods. Not only does she have items we need, but her shop is my favorite to refer to for gifting. And it means so much to shop with confidence that any purchase from her supports the wellbeing of the makers.

We’ve been donning sun hats from Mouse in the House nearly everyday in our garden, we hardly step outside without them. And inside, we’ve cozied up to some of our favorite books which have come from her shop—where 10% of all book sales are donated to fund the educational needs of children living in rural Nepal. I’ve been so touched by her heart to serve others inside and outside of her business.

Just a few weeks ago we were able to spend a day with Ashley and her children, and the way my girls fell head over heels for hers, was the sweetest thing. They now have another set of faces and hearts to connect with handful of their belongings, and through that, they demonstrate the most inspiring acts of gratitude.

We have a ribbon lined with KD Bird bows which are each botanically dyed and handmade locally. Katie was the first maker I was able to introduce my girls to—and the way they love and cherish their bows and talk about our friend Katie and the plants she might use, all reassures so many of the hopes I hold in this slow and simple life we are pursuing.

Lastly, I have found myself gravitating more and more toward a trade economy where I have connected closely with other makers and we can share with one another gifts and talents, relieving the burden of learning more than we have the time to do, and spending more than we have the means to spend. In this respect, I have acquired both needs and novelties that I would not have had the budget to spend otherwise. In turn I have been given an opportunity to use my talents to share our sweet joy with another—one of the things I loved most about keeping shop—and what’s more, I have been able to share these projects with my children as they work earnestly (and distractingly) alongside me at the sewing machine. These opportunities have opened up unexpected conversations where we talk about the different places people live and the different talents they have, and how sharing these gifts brings us all so much joy. And perhaps what I have loved the most is they way it has prompted their own creative endeavors to “make” for others—which in itself has inspired me to no end— I think perhaps, another journal for that.

This journey to slow and intentional living never ends, we grow into it while learning more and more the importance of why we choose to walk this path. As we find ourselves gaining confidence in one area, we see where we have room to improve in another. And if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned to walk slowly and humbly, and that gratitude is everything. Almost each item my hands run across throughout the day has me whispering a song of thanks to someone, somewhere; connecting kindred hearts, inspiring a life of stewardship.