As winter was coming to an end, I could hear God again.

Grow a garden.

I had never grown a garden.

Heck I couldn’t even keep a house plant alive.

My grandparents had always had a garden on their farm.

I remember the table was always set with freshly picked veggies…cantaloupe, corn, green beans, and my favorite—sliced tomatoes.

There was something about being on my grandparents’ farm that had me seeking a simpler life.

In the city, I’d always found myself trying to keep up with the Jones’s.

No joke.

I wanted to serve God and gain the whole world too.

Debt…that’s what I was gaining.

I was a borrower instead of a lender.

But as I’ve shared, my wilderness had purpose.

It brought so much humility.

It brought me out of lukewarm Christianity.

I no longer had a new vehicle, new home…and our income was now a third of what it was in the city.

I was learning to rely on God for everything.

I would rejoice and give God the greatest praise for how He would provide for us.

I never knew how God would provide…but He did like manna.

Even the garden.

He did it.

My dad plowed up 1/2 an acre where my grandparents always had their garden.

He had the neighboring dairy put manure on it.

I asked my dad a billion questions and then I went out to buy some onions.

I planted those onions with so much excitement.

Went to church, and an older gentleman had heard I was starting a garden and he had bought me bags of seeds online.

Spring break came, and me and my kids got out in the garden and started planting seeds.

No markers.

No rows.

No mounds.

I had no idea really what I was doing besides trying my best to find a new way of life.

What I was doing—wasn’t working.

God knew that…and I too was starting to see it.

And now I had chickens and a garden to tend to while raising my kids and seeking God.

New seeds were being planted.