Season 6 of our podcast was all about self-care, and ultimately self-care is nourishing ourselves. Not in a vacuum, but with the goal of being sturdier, steadier, and softer in our care for our people and our homes. Nourishing is another way to do this. When we nourish ourselves, we can better nourish others. As we grow, we can grow others. But sometimes that can feel a bit nebulous. It’s a nice idea, but nice ideas need a structure and a plan. They need to be intentional and purposed if they’re going to turn into habits that serve us and our people. The 1 hour each of Consuming, Creating, and Exercise gives us some meat on the bones of nourishment. It gives us a benchmark and some goals.

So as I circled my home on Sunday between a dying Frigg, an injured Astrid, and a living Sigyn, Sif, and Skaði, so brain dead from lack of sleep that I completely forgot to watch the church live stream, unable to stop checking on everyone, there was a certain calm strength in my core because this was me being a woman, fully and completely. This was in a way part of my God-given earthly glory: attending birth and death. I raised Frigg from a baby. She was a day old when I got her, and I was determined to be there at her death. She was mine. My little, mortal soul to tend, and tend her I would through every step of her short life.

There is a magic to Christmas that can’t be denied. There is a sweet warmth, a kindred-spiritedness, a joy in the darkness. There is silliness and soberness. There is fairy tale, myth, and the celebration of the greatest event in human history. There is eucatastrophe, tradition, and festivity! There is a magic to Christmas, deep and old, bright and beautiful!

Do you ever wish you could bottle up that perfect Christmas feeling, can it, and store it on your pantry shelf?

All of us desire to make homes. We love all that home holds. We glory in all that home brings into the lives of the people we love. We are all in on the value of our labors. Practicing daily thanksgiving helps us keep our light in our windows to guide our people back home. When we fill heart-gardens with the fertilizer of gratitude, the seeds we plant bloom into big, bold, beautiful warmth. It is impossible to stand against a grateful woman. She will nourish and nurture in life-altering ways. Without a word, we will create an environment that everyone wants to be in. No matter what is on our walls, our homes will be infused with coziness, comfort, and cheer. 

What is all this but Merry Durability and Cheering Strength? Isn’t that being sturdy? Isn’t that doing hard things with a smile on our face? Isn’t that being the round, worn, safe place for our people? Being a woman, wife, mother, homemaker requires more grit than our aprons, ruffles, and nurturing of little things imply. This grit takes time to grow, but I want to grow it. I want to be sturdy so I can be a helper. I know that I’m dependent on my husband, family, friends, and church, but I want to be as sturdy in that dependence as I possibly can, so that when war comes, my man can answer the call. But also, so that when plants die, drought comes, chickens get sick, a friend needs a meal, or my own health declines, I can carry on happily. I want this for me, and I want it for all of you in your homes.

I’m beyond blessed. I’m so blessed I can barely handle the weight of so much good in my life. Every single thing I feel anxious about is actually God dealing so unbelievably bountifully with me. Each frantic whisper of “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late,” each tinge of “I’ll never get this all done” is a moment to step back and look at the blessing. Blessings always come packaged with responsibilities—families, friends, churches, communities, marriages, homes, cars, food, clothing, education, citizenship, hobbies, health, creativity, imagination. Nothing is ever given to us without a responsibility attached to it. But we can’t lose sight of the blessing because of the weight of the work.

I think it is easy, especially in suburbia, to ignore the weather and the changing seasons. We have roofs over our heads and air conditioning to keep us comfortable. Our lawns and gardens are respectable and controlled. Some of us spent years working in cubicles or office buildings, unaffected by the seasons except for the occasional ice storm. As homemakers, we no longer live this way. We should take note. Why? Because seasons and weather are gifts that do us good every day—yes, even the heat.

When our only goal is how quickly we can get something done and how easily we can do it, we stop caring about that thing. What does it matter if it is broken, destroyed, or trashed? When we haven’t poured any labor into something, we don’t care about what happens to it. And when we don’t care about what happens to it, we stop investing in it. It is like that rental house. The person who lives there doesn’t care. They don’t mow the lawn. They don’t beautify the property. It is an eyesore to the whole neighborhood. Or think about the difference between how you feel about the cucumber you harvested from your own garden vs. the one bought from the store. You probably don’t feel a thing about the one you bought at the store, but the one you harvested? You took a picture of it, crowed about it, and relished sharing it with family and friends. It matters to you because you put the hard work into growing it. This is true about raising chickens, too. Every egg matters because of the work you poured into that egg.

God is good, and He cares about His creation. Freya’s death wasn’t unknown or outside of His control. She wasn’t unknown to Him. Not many people may realize that a chicken makes a sweet companion, but God knows. He set Freya in my path a little over a year ago, randomly, humanly speaking, chosen by the Tractor Supply guy, and gave me a whole year with her. A whole year. I don’t know why, but I found it a great comfort to know that the Lord created her, loved her, and was in charge of her beginning and end and that it mattered to Him, she mattered to Him. He knows when the sparrows fall.

As I got away from social media, I got more and more burnt out about social media. How am I getting more burnt out doing less? Is getting over the dopamine addiction to being noticed? I’m used to having my fingers in several different ‘pies’ that let me interact with the internet. I’ve grown used to likes, hearts, and such. Now that I’m not really on social media, I’m not getting that little rush that says someone liked what I had to say. I’ve pulled back to things that cost people: podcasts and blog articles. These aren’t short and quick for the listener/reader or for the writer/producer. They require time and thought.

The sweet truth is that when we put in the effort to educate ourselves about this calling and life-long, always-on vocation, when we practice day in and day out, when we cultivate good attitudes, and correct our thinking, homemaking becomes more restful, not less. The sweet truth is that when we are home (I mean actually home), our homes become more expansive. I’m less a slave shackled to my kitchen now than I ever was as an employee, manager, or owner in the past. How is my life “easier” (kinder, healing, gentler) when I’m on call 24/7 as opposed to 8-9 hours of work? Because homemaking isn’t a 9-5 job, so the mindset and the pace are completely different.

Play is vital to our hearts and minds and thus to our homemaking. Play is vital to the mental health of humans, so that makes it our responsibility. We must nurture and nourish an environment of play in our hearts and hearths. We must stop viewing everything as burdens, chores, and dull responsibilities. We are the HearthKeepers! Laugh, dance, sing, and play for the mutual well-being of your home, hearth, self, and people. Learn, dear ladies, to have fun!

It is not a waste of our lives to learn to be merrily durable in our homes. Merry Durability is our watchword and our foundation.

Instead of feeling like I’m also trapped in a cage, it’s given me a reason for my slow living. I need to go in and out today so that I can keep a close eye on the hens' location. I need to take this break so that they can run around a bit. I need to make sure I’m not gone all the time because these creatures depend on me. What I thought might be a hindrance has proven to be a liberty.

Decorating is such a wonder! Ponder on how delightful the customizable-ness of homemaking is! The diversity of tastes! You are not wrong in your excitement to decorate your new home. Go for it, dear ladies! Set up that nest, cozy that space, and create beauty. This is who we are and what we do.

This is our kingdom, ladies. We may share the cooking with our hubbies or even our children, but we should know and grasp the power of a treasured kitchen. From her we make tea to soothe anxiety, pour wine to calm and help conversations flow, and coffee to brighten. Here we clean away dirt and stains and grubbiness. Here we make memories and link people together. All this and more overflows from our kitchens. The kitchen is our biggest and brightest tool as domestic artists. It is our biggest help as the helpers. It is our most faithful co-laborer in our service to others.

There is a feminine chain of creating beauty no matter where we are or what our circumstances are. From prairies to communist countries, in poverty and sickness, all women have figured out how to get flowers, or ribbons, something beautiful. This is part of connecting maid, matron, and crone, our past mothers to our future mothers. We women create beauty.

Procrastination is when we put off good but hard or annoying or anxiety-laced things for easier things, often bringing harm to us and our homes. It is a lack of self-control, diligence, and courage.

Don’t make the mistake I did and think that the goal is to be bored. We desire to be productive, useful, and helpful. But being a homemaker, in our heart of hearts, is to love the “boring things” because they are so far from boring as to be almost indescribable.

Every success we experience is not guaranteed to stay a success. Every win fades. Holding on to our successes typically squeezes the life out of them and either brings stress into our homes or keeps us living unhappily in the past, stunted and dull.