revolutions

There is a day
when the road neither
comes nor goes, and the way
is not a way but a place.

-Wendell Berry

I have lived in Minnesota for a year now. I have been a full time homemaker for a year. The title 'homemaker' sums up all that I hold dear! Home; and Making. Place; and Purpose. Where I belong and what I do are all rolled into who I am. My identity.

I am continually learning better ways to say things. Letting love temper my confrontation of the world. Realizing that submission is not a negative word, but we have twisted and bent it into an ugly idea (too much of anything is ugly). Convincing myself of that pretty much every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. And often failing. Embracing restoration and resourcefulness.

Questions I have been asked: What do you do all day? Do you like living across the street from your in-laws? Why are you drawn to the countryside? While these questions usually come from a genuine curiosity, I feel that I cannot adequately explain such broad and complex subjects. I want to answer with a story. I want to offer inquirers a glimpse into my life, but a plunge would be more apt. Brett and I were completely MADE to live this life. We have the exact skills and desires to turn the undesirable into the hospitable. I could write a whole post on this, but suffice it to say, we are on our own timetable and at this stage cannot do this for our livelihood. Though we are doing it for our living. *smile*

We have decided to name this home The Portage, alluding to life's transitory nature, and because this house is not our Anchor's Rest.

¹por·tage noun \ˈpȯr-tij, 3 is also pȯr-ˈtäzh\1 : the labor of carrying or transporting
2 archaic : the cost of carrying : porterage
3 a : the carrying of boats or goods overland from one body of water to another or around an obstacle (as a rapids) b : the route followed in making such a transfer