Where’s the fruit?

September 21, 2018 By mary 1 Comment

Have you ever taken those spiritual assessments at church? They help you identify your God-given strengths so you can use those talents for the good of the Kingdom.

Love kids in the nursery.
Teach a class.
Help organize an event.
Show up early to serve the coffee.
Make hospital visits.

I like tests that tell me something about myself. It’s kinda magical to answer some questions and have an assessment tell you things about yourself. They’re not always 100% accurate, but there is always a good bit of truth in there as well.

No matter what test I take, I always get two results without fail: I have good discernment and I put a high value on truth-telling. (Also, I always get highly organized and good at administrative tasks, but I felt that wasn’t relevant to this story. BUT IF YOU NEED ME TO ORGANIZE SOME SHIT, I’M YOUR GIRL.)

Welcome to my blog where I discern and truth-tell whether people really want me to or not.

Tell the truth and make it slightly uncomfortable for everyone.

GIFTS! *throws confetti in the air*

I’m also good at noticing fake really quick. I can’t stand fake, my fake-radar (fakedar, if you will…) is very sensitive, and I just can’t stomach people who live unauthentic lives.

So it’s hard to admit I’ve been in close relationship with multiple people in the past few years who have been living lives full of lies and deception.

That’s a blow to my pride, and I’ve had to do a lot of reflecting because of it. I’ve had to take my fake-radar in for some tune ups. Apparently, if you’re too close, you can’t see the bullshit.

So I’m doing some re-calibrating and what I keep coming back to is the lesson Jesus shares of The Vine and the Branch in the book of John (this is The Message version):

I am the Real Vine and my Father is the Farmer. He cuts off every branch of me that doesn’t bear grapes. And every branch that is grape-bearing he prunes back so it will bear even more. You are already pruned back by the message I have spoken.

Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.

I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic, the harvest is sure to be abundant. Separated, you can’t produce a thing. Anyone who separates from me is deadwood, gathered up and thrown on the bonfire. But if you make yourselves at home with me and my words are at home in you, you can be sure that water you ask will be listened to and acted upon. This is how my Father shows who he is–when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples.

If we can’t trust our own judgment, if we can’t trust what our eyes see–trust God’s. His promise is if we’re investing in Him, He’ll invest in us.

And if our lives aren’t proving that, THEN WE ARE LYING. Not God. It’s not that He’s not following through, it’s us. We’re not actually doing what we’re saying. We are providing lip service. We are putting on a show. We are deceiving others (and maybe even ourselves).

What my counselor has reminded me time and time again, is the same thing the Bible says: Don’t listen to words, look for action. The power of Jesus tells us we can’t produce the fruit. We are not capable of it. We don’t have that authority.

Only our Creator does.

We are death and until our Living Savior shows up to do the changing and growing, we are just going through the motions.

We are fakes.

So what does fruit look like? What if our sensors are off? What if we’ve been tricked or lied to? What is fruit?

I think fruit looks slightly different on everyone, but the Bible is pretty clear on what life looks like when we are not producing fruit:

It is obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulation of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic-show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or to be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. (Galatians 5: 19-20, The Message version)

Unfruitful lives sound chaotic and loud, maddening and lonely.

Fruit tends to be quieter, less demanding of attention.

God likes to show off, but His people shouldn’t. I often imagine fruit is more subtle, more details-and-everyday, more ordinary beauty. I think fruit is seen in reflection and in moments we’re not paying attention. I think often times we don’t see our own fruit.

But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard–things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. (Galatians 5: 22-23, The Message version)

One of the downsides of teaching middle school was I never really got to see those kids become awesome. Sure, they were awesome in that moment and at that age, but middle school is weird and awkward and not (for 99.99999% of us) where we shine the brightest. High school is when students start to bear some fruit; they begin to figure out who they are, who they aren’t, and they are a little more settled about it. They’re not there yet, but they’re on their way.

Middle school teachers miss that part. We don’t get to see the fruit. We just do our best and hope they stop being such weirdos one day.

That’s how fruit works too. Much of it is just doing the daily work God tells us to, doing what we all know will lead to relationship with God and community with His people.

And He brings the fruit while we’re busy doing the assignment.

If our heads are down, focused on the task, the fruit might be noticed by others as they look up from their own work, but we probably won’t see our own often.

I’m cautious of anyone who wants to tell me about all the fruit they’re bearing.

We should be able to see it. Discernment isn’t just a spiritual gift just some of us get. Maybe some of us are better at it, but we all have the ability to discern. We are made in His image. If we’re spending time with Him, He’s going to give us His eyes.

Then we’ll see.

Here’s what I’m learning as I re-calibrate: if there is no fruit, don’t ignore it.

No fruit is God’s helpful warning sign for us. No fruit is the fake-radar God installed in us. You can’t feign fruit. It’s not possible.

You didn’t choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won’t spoil. (John 15:16)

If something stinks, it’s not fruit, friends. It’s just not.

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September & October

September 18, 2018 By mary 5 Comments

Last September and October were a blur.

September was the back-and-forth of sober Chris and drunk Chris. It was accountability and babysitting, it was lies and deceit.

I spent a lot of energy trying to make people understand how bad things had gotten. Friends. Chris. Our families. Chris’ friends.

Addicts make you feel crazy for a number of reasons but manipulation is at the top of the list. Chris was good at manipulating others. He was less good at manipulating me. I was too close to the madness and didn’t buy his lies. But getting those he was deceiving so well to understand I wasn’t just being vengeful or over-reacting felt like madness. I had spent so long feeling crazy. I finally learned I wasn’t and then I had to convince everyone else I wasn’t crazy too.

And when I mean “everyone else,” I mean people we were supposedly doing life with.

Hey Mary, maybe all of this wouldn’t be happening if you weren’t airing your dirty laundry on the internet.

I think Chris is drinking because you’re being too hard on him.

He’s not really that bad, is he?

Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion?

No. No, I don’t.

Even Chris said this was all my fault, if I would just let him come back home, he’d be able to get better.

Never mind the fact he had been drinking for three years while living here and couldn’t stop. Never mind the fact he was caught this summer and told if he started again he’d have to leave.

I spent last September exhausted in so many ways.

The night we dropped Chris off at the detox facility was horrible and also brought me a deep, deep sigh of relief. I got home late that night but I slept well. Really well. I wasn’t worried about where he was, if he was putting himself in danger, if he was making choices that could hurt himself or others.

He was, for the time being, someone else’s problem.

October brought peace.

After detox, he checked himself into a long-term treatment center. I went with him for paperwork and insurance and because I was his ride. We were there hours that day and we spoke no more than twenty words.

This is your last chance, I said as we drove to rehab.

I know, he said quietly.

There wasn’t much more to say after that.

Fast-forward a year: It’s September again. The weather has teased us with cooler nights and milder days. I’m decorating the house for fall. Starbucks is bringing back their traditional (disgusting) seasonal drinks.

And I’m getting angry all over again.

Chris is sober this time, but it’s like my body can’t shake the feelings from last fall, can’t get out of the survival mode I was in this time twelve months ago.

I can close my eyes and immediately be transported back to the hills of southern Indiana as I drive to the detox facility, the leaves golden yellow and blazing red; I can hear the album I had on repeat last September, the lyrics burned into my memory and heart. I can sense the anxiety and stress and worry in my stomach, in my bones, in my muscle.

I can’t seem to convince myself I’m safe right now. This is the season it all came to a head. This is the season I was alone. This is the season of divorce attorneys and dividing assets and family secrets tumbling out.

I can’t convince my body we’re safe now.

And so I’m just angry. I’m angry at lots of irrational things and some very rational things. I’m angry at myself for not being able to think my way out of this. I’m angry at Chris all over again for what he did to us. I’m angry at a friend who, for months, didn’t ask how we were doing and then hurt my family and kids as she slammed the door on her way out. I’m angry at adults who do the same things over and over again expecting different results.

I’m angry I can’t keep typing that list because I have to keep quiet about so many things.

I used to love fall. I was born in October; my body was made for layers. I love to sleep with as many blankets piled on top of me as possible. I enjoy the sting of cold air in my lungs when I walk outside. I could eat chili for every meal and never tire of it. Fall is the best time to camp, to hike, to sit around a fire with friends. The best time to be alive.

But right now, I’m angry it’s here. It is full of hurt and memories and fresh wounds and betrayal that just seems to keep coming. I want to scream and cry and hide and say I’m sorry and fuck you all at the same time.

Addiction stole fall from me. Grief stole joy from me. Betrayal stole safety from me.

And like all seasons, I know this will pass. I know this current moment is not my life-long reality. I know pain subsides and moments relax and eventually it will be okay again. I’ve lived enough heartache and disappointment to know the rhythms of pain and suffering. I have had enough joyful moments to not forget they exist.

I know I’m allowed to sit in the discomfort of endings and beginnings and feel all the feelings, allow them space, and then let them go.

I know what healing looks like and I know every day, in some small way, the healing starts over again. So I just have to keep doing what I know is right even when it’s hard, even when it doesn’t make sense:
be honest about my life
say things hurt
ask for help
listen
read my Bible
cry and laugh
show up
be patient
make sure my kids are safe and loved
keep my eyes open
keep my heart open
keep my hands open

In The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald writes, “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” Maybe that’s what I need: a full immersion into fall, a fresh October for peace–crisp weather and a good freeze at night that ends the summer growing season so there’s room for new beginnings, new life, new starts.

When you tell people the Bible is true, part two

September 14, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

It’s okay to not get everything you read in the Bible.

It’s okay to have questions about the Bible.

It’s okay to say something doesn’t make sense or feels hard about the Bible.

But we only get to do those things if we’re actually reading the Bible. If you’re not in there reading and questioning and sitting with your learning, you’re like a movie critic who tells us his opinion without watching a single movie.

That example seems ridiculous, because we have common sense to know that isn’t how you do your job. But suddenly when we apply that same common sense to the Bible, people get their underpants in a bunch.

Like so, so angry, guys. How dare I tell people to read their Bibles. How dare I say if you pick and choose things from it, you invalidate the whole thing. Just so we’re clear, that’s not my opinion or advice. It’s what the Bible says.

So I was just telling you something I read in the Bible.

Here is what’s hard: I can’t convince you the Bible is God’s inspired Word if you don’t think it is. I can’t quote scripture to tell you how valid the Bible is if you don’t accept it as having the same authority I do.

That really easily ends the argument. We just agree to disagree. I’m giving importance to something you’ve already decided holds no importance. But! But if you claim to be a Jesus follower and you don’t accept the Bible as God’s Word, I get really, really confused.

How do we know God if we aren’t in relationship with Him? How do we know God’s character and will and love without hearing from God in a book He wrote for us? How do we discern what is right and true without a road map?

I don’t think you can.

It’s like saying I’m married, but I don’t actually spend any time with my husband, we don’t live in the same house, and I never hear from him.

It sounds like I’m married in name only, but not actually living as a married person.

And I think that’s where so many of us get stuck. We claim a name, but not the action behind it. Guys, there is a reason Jesus warns us following Him is hard. There is a reason He says most people will not do this because it costs too much. God knows human nature–He created us!–so of course He knows what our tendencies are. Our tendencies for greed and power, for selfishness and laziness, for lust and jealous, for rebellion and hate.

It is not convenient to read your Bible.

It is not always easy to write out a tithe check.

It is not our nature to forgive people who hurt us.

It is not fun to confess sin.

But I believe the promises of the Bible and I live that out through obedience even when it doesn’t look like what the world believes is right. Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”

I do not understand everything I read in the Bible.

I have questions about the Bible.

Sometimes the Bible doesn’t make sense, and it feels hard to follow.

But I am putting my hope in His promises, because it’s a choice I’m making. If you want to make a difference choice, you get to do that. But you can’t pick and choose what you want your Christian faith to look like. You can’t decide the parts of the Bible you want in on and the parts you don’t think are right. He makes that pretty clear. If you want to argue that, go spend some time in scripture and in prayer and take it up with God, not Mary Graham.

Finally, it’s not judging you to say the Bible says you should read God’s Word. I got that argument last weekend. I shared what I read in the Bible, and it was the most judgey thing I’ve ever said and how dare I. But the problem with that argument is I have no idea if you personally read the Bible. The police made me stop peeking in your windows and so I haven’t been checking your habits these past few weeks.

If that hits a nerve with you–when I say read the Bible, I think it’s awesome!–it tells more about your heart and issues than mine.

I tell people I think they should read the Bible because I am only married because of the heart change God did on me the past year and a half. I tell people I think they should read the Bible because the only reason I’m able to share my money and resources with people is because God has reminded me again and again that He always provides and it’s not mine anyway. I tell people I think they should read the Bible because I often experience a peace that passes all understanding and I WANT IT FOR YOU TOO.

I don’t share what’s going on in my heart and mind to shame you. And if you’ve been following me on the internet or you know me in real life and you believe that’s where this comes from, I might suggest we part ways. I found freedom and grace and mercy and hope when I was drowning and to not throw out that lifeline to others is selfish. I get excited to share a small glimpse of what God is doing in my life because not too long ago, EVERYTHING FELT DEAD, and now it’s alive again. And some of the best parts I don’t even share on the internet! Some of the craziest, humbling, powerful stories are not even being shared on social media or my blog because they’re still happening or they’re just too overwhelming to put into words still.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because I can’t imagine living any other way.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because I want you to have what I have.

I encourage you to read your Bible, because it turned (and continues to turn) everything upside down in the most perfect, unexpected way.

And if you hear those things and feel instead I’m judging you, I’d say if I know these things to be true in my life and don’t tell you, isn’t that worse? I know freedom and I want to keep it to myself? I found mercy and I don’t want it for anyone else?

That’s not judging you, that’s called love, friends.

Some resources:
-I am hesitant to share this website because I’m not a fan of Focus on the Family, but this article does a good job of answering the question “How do we know the Bible is true?” then it leads to other questions in a series, but I haven’t read them so just be aware of the source, I guess.

-I found this 2017 National Geographic series really interesting. In it scientists and archeologists agree that Jesus existed, there is too much actual proof to discredit his time on earth. Where the debate heats up is whether or not you believe He is the Son of God. And just like everyone else, you get an opinion on that. I believe He is because I’ve spent lots of time and energy learning as much as I can. I’d love for you to do that too, and then make an informed decision. But to just go by hearsay or go by something you learned as a child and not take your adult-brain to do the work of figuring it out now for yourself feels immature. My kid-brain believed I could become a truck driver and live in the trailer part of the truck, like making myself what would today be referred to as a tiny house. It never crossed my mind that truckers haul freight and the back of my truck would have to be filled with something to deliver if I was going to make a living as a truck driver. So I take the things I learned or thought as a child with a grain of salt, and I like to re-examine them as an adult with better critical thinking skills. You get to do that too.

When you tell people the Bible is true, part one

September 13, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

I started a new Bible study last week: She Reads Truth’s Open Your Bible by Raechel Myers and Amanda Bible Williams. I’ve had this study for a few years and tried to start it once before, but it didn’t really grab my attention so I put it down and started something else.

I don’t know what made me try again, but the second go round has been much more engaging for me. God works in mysterious ways indeed.

As I studied some stuff this weekend, I shared some thoughts on my Instagram Stories. One of the first sections in the workbook is about the Bible being true and what is Truth. (For those not familiar with theology talk, little-T truth is not the same as big-T Truth. Big-T Truth refers to God and the Bible.) I commented that someone I follow on Instagram who I respect and believe to be smart has started sharing her thoughts on Christianity. I’m always interested in talk about faith, so my ears perked up a bit when she mentioned this. But then I quickly lost the excitement when this was her statement:

Love is hard. Especially when you think you’re obligated to love everyone. That’s God’s job. Not yours.

Oh man, say what?

So I shared this wise paragraph from the Open Your Bible book I’m working through:

Friends, whatever we read in the rest of this study is meaningless if we don’t believe the Bible is true. The Law given to Moses and fulfilled in Christ, the good news of the gospel, the promises upon which our hope is built–it is either all true or not at all true. Truth isn’t about expedience, and it’s not about comfort. There aren’t degrees of truth. Because the Bible is true, even the parts we don’t understand are good news!

Then I followed it up with my own commentary:

The Bible is really explicit about being all or nothing. We don’t get to pick what we want to believe and ignore the rest. Listen: there are things I don’t understand about God. There are things I don’t get about the Bible. I have questions. But it doesn’t mean I get to discredit them or say they’re not right because my little human brain doesn’t comprehend it. Sometimes obedience is painful. Sometimes obedience is hard. Sometimes obedience isn’t politically correct. Pretending we’re just more “enlightened” than past generations or we’ve suddenly discovered our “personal truths” after centuries of people wrestling with the same questions is so arrogant and dangerous.

God’s design is free will. We get to decide if we want in on his story or not. But we don’t get to pick and choose what parts of the story we agree with. And that’s where people get uncomfortable and make up new rules that suit them better. “It’s either all true or not at all true.” (But don’t take my word for it; dig in and see for yourself why the Lord is good and righteous and true even if we don’t always feel it.)

And now, a few days later, I’m still thinking about some of the responses I got. Of course, there were encouraging ones, ones that agreed with me. But there were also many people who disagreed with this wholeheartedly. (I’m choosing the word “wholeheartedly” but that is a gentler, kinder way of describing some of the reactions.)

Two responses make me write today. Two responses stuck out to me in my interactions with followers. Two responses make me want to clear up some misconceptions.

#1: I can’t believe in a Bible that encourages slavery and rape against women (followed by random Bible verses to support her arguments.)

UMM, WHAT? You think Martin Luther King Jr., a preacher who often carried his Bible as he fought for social justice, fought on a Biblical platform while secretly hoping for and encouraging slavery? You think the millions-strong black church who is leading the charge for social justice in our world right now is just ignoring the parts of the Bible that promote their own mistreatment and abuse?

You think faith leaders like Beth Moore who fight for women’s voices in the church built her life around a text that also just happens to says it’s okay for men to rape her? There are whole denominations who allow women ministers and you think those women preachers are helping to spread a gospel which promotes the idea they are second-class citizens not in control of their own bodies?

I think some good old fashioned critical thinking skills would help with this argument. I’m not even asking you to read the Bible to understand how ridiculous this is. I’m just asking you to think a little bit.

There’s some really basic Bible knowledge that would make those arguments null and void: we have to remember the Old Testament is a history of God’s people. The Israelites (Jewish people, if you’re not tracking with me…) have had a long and twisty journey with God and those Old Testament books are overflowing with history, stories, and rules. If I open a textbook in high school history class, I don’t assume the author of those books is approving of the Holocaust or the genocide in Rwanda because they are giving information about it.

When I read in the Old Testament about people groups who sacrificed babies to their gods, it does not translate to GOD WANTS ME TO SACRIFICE BABIES. That’s a huge, problematic leap. When we take into consideration the time period of these stories, the cultural norms and experiences of the people, and the militaristic society that existed during Bible times, it starts to give you a different lens to understand and process what the Bible is talking about.

Somehow (through Bible illiteracy, actually) we’ve created this whole group of people who want to point out all the horrible things the Bible has in it by taking every single word as literally as possible.

When I teach students in middle school or high school English class about reading literature, we learn a lot about literary devices: metaphor, simile, foreshadowing, analogy, hyperbole, imagery, personification, and symbol to name just a few. We learn to dig deeper than surface level when we read poetry or prose.

GUYS, THE BIBLE IS THE SAME WAY.

Goodness, I’m kinda embarrassed so many people feel free to discredit something they haven’t even read, let alone studied. You get to have your own opinions, but at least be educated about them please.

If we can remember basic-level stuff like the Old Testament is a history of God’s people and His relationship with them, the New Testament is when all the foreshadowing of a coming king actually happens. God sends His Son into the world, and IT CHANGES EVERYTHING.

God’s chosen people are no longer just the Jewish people, but everyone! We’re no longer relying on priests to tell us what God wants, we have the Holy Spirit in us to help guide us and go to God for us. We don’t have to sacrifice animals for forgiveness, because the Ultimate Sacrifice, Jesus, comes and does it once and for all. For every single one of us.

Suddenly the playing field is level, grace is never ending, and we get to live out this new freedom every single day.

We still read the Old Testament, because we learn so much about God’s character and ways. We still read the Old Testament, because human nature has always been sinful and we can see so much of ourselves and our current struggles in people who lived a really long time ago.

We still read the New Testament, because we learn about Jesus and His ministry and how He did life with people. We read the New Testament, because it tells us how to love people well and it offers us hope and peace in times of trouble.

Final little tidbit for today: taking things out of context, not telling the whole story, using words to hurt other people–if someone did that to you in a relationship, we’d call it manipulation. If we do it with God’s word, it’s the same thing. We have to have context before we start spouting scripture. Our culture and news is filled with people doing this–using God’s Word to further their own agenda or power.

This is the exact opposite of the point of the Bible.

What a heartbreaking realization, when discussing why you have to take the Bible as a whole or nothing (because it’s what the Bible says which in turn makes it what God says, not what Mary Graham says), that people can Google a few scriptures, use verses out of context, and believe the Bible is for persecuting and hurting people.

Guys, we have to do better.

Tomorrow: the second response which got me writing.

Welcome to the Front Room Studio

August 28, 2018 By mary 6 Comments

A few weeks ago I shared what I’m doing instead of teaching this year, now I want to show you where I’m at instead of the classroom.

Let me introduce you to the Front Room Studio:

Jessi and I have been friends since elementary school, she’s part of the First Thursday group, and we host the Not Terrible podcast together. Last spring when we started whispering about finding a workspace to share, it felt like such a scary, unrealistic dream. But we signed a lease in June and spent July getting it ready so we could be up and running when the kids went back to school.

We record our podcast here. I write and manage social media accounts at the desk with the little pink dog. Jessi manages local comedians from her desk. We have lots of joint projects in the works, but we also have our own things. This is a good home base for us. We get to encourage and support each other while pursuing lots of different business opportunities.

It’s scary and wonderful like all new things are.

We are so excited to show off our new space. We have big dreams of hosting workshops, book clubs, and classes here. Our kids like to hang out here (within reason…and as long as we have internet), and we love inviting people to stop by.

With that said, if you’re local and you’ll be attending the New Palestine fall festival, we’d love for you to stop by our open house after the parade–we’ll show you around the new space, feed you some treats, and Jessi will be singing some songs! Just kidding. She’s going to kill me when she sees this. But I mostly write to make myself laugh, so here we are.

How did this happen? How did this dream of writing and not teaching become a reality? Sometimes I ask myself the same question. It’s not lost on me that one year ago this very day I was preparing for the end of my marriage, refusing to talk to my alcoholic husband, and wondering how we would recover from the chaos he was creating in our lives. Little did I know it would get so much worse. But even littler (go with it…) did I know it would get so, so much better too.

God has been faithful. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that I get to wake up each morning and come to this office and sit in this desk and write. It still seems like an absolute dream. Please don’t pinch me if I’m dreaming right now. I’m too afraid to wake up.

If you want to come see us at the open house, you can go here for the details. Or if you want to keep up with happenings at the Front Room Studio, you can like our Facebook page to not miss the next event (or get more information about hosting your own event here!).

Pictures by Huff Photography

How to recover from betrayal.

August 23, 2018 By mary 4 Comments

The most unexpected part of this journey has been the messages from women asking for hope.

How do I get over betrayal?

Can I survive this?

Can our marriage survive the affair?

How do you ever recover from the lies?

How do I get over this?

I get emails in my inbox and messages on any social media platform I belong to.

How? How do you go on living after this type of devastation?

My initial thought is I HAVE NO IDEA. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you recover. I don’t know if you ever get the safety and security you once felt ever again.

But the truth is, I do know. Because I’m living it right now. I am living in the after of a marriage built on lies and while the lies might not be the same lies you were damaged by, the feeling and the pain and the hopelessness is very, very similar.

Betrayal is betrayal is betrayal.

I don’t know if that should make us all feel better or worse, but there it is.

Before I tell you how to get better, I have to tell you I only know what works because I did it the wrong way first. I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me twice. The first time I learned my husband was a drug addict and had been lying to me for our whole relationship. Then seven years later when I learned he was still drug free, but now living as a high functioning alcoholic and had been for a long time.

Betrayal hurts every time, but the second time hurt worse because I felt like I should have known better this time. But I didn’t. And I know why I was blindsided the second time just as bad. I know why it was just as shocking the second time as it was the first time: because I didn’t heal or do the work the first time this happened. So I didn’t see the patterns when they started again, because my husband was a drug addict, not me. What did this have to do with me?

Absolutely nothing.

Except when it happened the second time, I wondered if it really did have something to do with me.

Wait. Don’t leave. I did not cause my husband to drink. I did not cause him to be an alcoholic. You did not cause your husband to cheat on you. You did not force your husband to do drugs because you’re just a bear to live with. We are all in complete control of our actions and choices and we do not control other people.

But I can be a healthy version of myself or I can be an unhealthy version of myself and after the first betrayal, I let myself continue to be an unhealthy version instead of doing any private work to heal or grow or look critically at the life I was living.

And that’s why, when it happened again, I realized if I wanted to live differently, I had to respond differently to the situation this time.

So I found a wise therapist.

Notice what I just wrote: I found a wise therapist. Me. Only me.

And here’s where people will argue with me, but this is my blog and no one else has the password so I get to write this and turn the comments off if I so choose. (I don’t actually do that, but I’m just letting you know my power because I’m an asshole like that.)

When your marriage falls apart, when your relationship is destroyed by betrayal, when the bottom falls out and you don’t recognize the person you love, the life you’re living, or the place you call home, I want you to run to a counselor. Not a marriage counselor. Not a couple’s therapist. I want you and you alone to walk your beautiful-and-hurting self into an office and demand a smart counselor for you and only you.

Here’s why: you are going to want to think and say and do some really shitty things when someone breaks your heart. You are going to want to ask lots of really embarrassing questions and say lots of things you think are shameful. You are going to want to ask what is wrong with you and why you were treated like this and if you hold any value. You are going to cry some really hard, ugly cries and you are going to scream some really unladylike screams.

You need to be able to do that without the person who hurt you in the room.

You need to be able to sit with a patient, wise therapist who lets you sit in grief and anger and pain and not run from it. You need to be able to talk to a kind counselor who doesn’t rush you to heal or forget or show compassion.

There will be a time and place for that. Eventually. But there’s an order to things and if you skip any steps, you’ll be right back where you started. You’ll end up angry and bitter and hard and no matter how much you strive to fix whatever broke, it will not work.

When women write me and tell me heartbreaking things about their relationships, I grieve with them. There is not a moment in sharing my story that made me hope other people knew what I was feeling. I’m not naïve to the fact this pain exists in other relationships, but I didn’t dwell on it while I was writing.

If you have shared something hard and painful with me, know I carry your heartbreak with me. You are not alone. You are not forgotten. You are worthy of good, loyal love, free of lies and deceit. I am sorry you relate to my story. I am sorry your soul remembers this breaking.

But what about marriage counseling? When I tell women to go find a good counselor for themselves, they respond with arguments of it being selfish or they’re already in marriage counseling.

And then I want to shake them really, really hard. I want to shake them because I see myself, years ago after the drug rehab, thinking things were doing to be okay and our marriage was being worked on.

Listen carefully, friends: You need to heal yourself before you can heal your marriage. You are NOT your marriage. You are a person who needs to be whole and healthy so you can spend the time and energy healing your marriage from a place of strength and recovery. You do not sit two broken, sick people in a room and ask them to fix something else that is broken.

Why do we think that works?

Why do we think two struggling people can suddenly have the wherewithal and health to mend a relationship? Taking two hurting people, no matter who did what, and giving them some tools to heal a marriage is ignoring the idea that they have to be a healthy person on their own first.

I’m not saying “on their own” with any suggestion of divorce, but healing a marriage while not healing a person who has lots of relationships and areas and situations that happen outside of marriage implies that the marriage is the only thing of importance as opposed to the overall health of a person who just happens to be married.

There is a time for marriage counseling. I do not believe it is the moment things fall apart. Everything is too fragile and raw to suddenly be on a rampage to fix it. If we tell women it is not their fault their husbands have cheated, then why do we immediately want to include them in the husband’s healing work? Does anyone think maybe he has some work he should be doing on his own? Since I didn’t make Chris drink, do you think he might have some things inside him that must be looked at apart from me?

I don’t encourage divorce. I don’t want families to be torn apart. I don’t want the pain and destruction that comes with marriages ending. I am pro-marriage.

But I’m a fan of healthy marriages. And that only comes when the two people inside the marriage are healthy. You can’t have a healthy marriage without healthy people. So go get healthy and then work on the marriage. It can wait a little bit. But here’s a secret: if you’re working on getting healthy individually, it will improve your marriage anyway. It’s not an all-or-nothing. When you put in the work of therapy, it changes and improves everything in your life. That’s just the way it works.

I know people are going to disagree with this advice. It gives me a little thrill just thinking about it. But I don’t have to argue with anyone. I’m just telling you what worked and is working for us. I’m just telling you want I keep typing in emails and direct messages on Instagram.

Last spring my husband confessed to lies and betrayal for the majority of our marriage. Last summer my husband was in a car accident while driving drunk and it didn’t upset me, I actively wished he would have died. Last fall I was talking with a divorce attorney and working on legal separation so the dangerous choices my husband was making weren’t going to be my downfall as well. Last fall I called the police on my husband. Last fall I checked out of my marriage because my husband had done it first.

Last week I went on a date with him and I thought he was just the cutest little thing I had ever seen. Even hearing myself admit that makes me nauseous. But it’s true. Of course, there are a lot of other answers that follow this first one of get a counselor for yourself, and they include things like Jesus, obedience, an amazing support network, lots of people who told me the truth even when it wasn’t easy, cookie dough, and a few ill-advised trips to Target, but the first step is a counselor. For you. No one else. Not a marriage counselor. Not for your husband.

For you.

Find a counselor and get really ugly with her. Let it all out and then you can start the healing. That’s how you survive this. That’s how you get back to freedom and light and joy and laughter and wholeness. You sit on her couch and you get really, really ugly and then you slowly work back to beautiful. It’s in you, I promise.

You are strong enough to do this. You are worth the expense. You are worth the time investment. You are worth the time off work. You are worth the babysitter expense. You are the only one who will make your healing a priority. You. You are strong enough to do this. You are worth it.

2015 family picture by Huff Photography

Our life and marriage right now.

August 22, 2018 By mary Leave a Comment

Yesterday after work Chris was supposed to stop at the grocery store and pick up my online order. I reminded him right before he got off work, and as he headed that way, he asked for instructions. He’d never picked up the groceries before.

I told him to pull into the assigned spot, call the number on the sign, and tell them the order is under “Mary Ritter.”

It’s not so much that I go incognito when I’m out in the world, but that my account with this store is so old that when I originally signed up, I wasn’t yet married. So even though I’ve officially gone by Graham for almost twelve years, when I go to the grocery, I’m still a Ritter.

A few minutes later Chris called to tell me the store didn’t have any record of my grocery order. They couldn’t find it in their system at all.

I immediately went to my email confirmation to make sure I sent him to the right store. Depending on my plans for the day, I might place the order at a different location, and I worried I’d made a mistake.

After a quick check, I came back on the phone.

“Did you tell them it’s under ‘Mary Ritter’?” I asked slowly.

“No,” he said.

“Did you even read the text I sent you?”

“Not all of it,” he responded.

“Goodbye,” I said through gritted teeth.

Later over dinner I sarcastically congratulated him on the grocery pickup.

“I got the groceries. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he replied.

That’s the main problem right now: everything small doesn’t feel small anymore. After years of making excuses in my head, after years of ignoring small things that didn’t feel right, I can’t do it anymore. For those unfamiliar with trauma and healing, it’s called a trigger. A situation or memory or reaction that recalls the original issue and takes you back to the chaos or heartache or pain instantly.

Chris forgetting a conversation or important detail we discussed. Triggered.

Chris driving too fast or making a silly decision while driving. Triggered.

Chris sleeping in too late. Is he hungover? Triggered.

Chris making an impulsive decision. Triggered.

What I never expected in recovery was how many behaviors, words, or moments would send me right back to angry or suspicious. What should just be small mistakes everyone makes, feels more important and under more scrutiny.

My husband has been sober almost eleven months. He attends AA meetings regularly, he sees his addiction counselor every week, he does an AA-related devotional every morning. He takes his medicine for depression as well as a pill that would make him violently ill if he took a drink of alcohol. Even being around rubbing alcohol or certain household cleaners makes him nauseous.

I know he is not drinking. But convincing my brain to believe it after all the years of lying is still hard. This anger ebbs and flows. I’m not triggered as often as I was eight months ago or even two months ago. But it still happens, I still get mad, and Chris still gets defensive.

We’re working on it. Communicating well is the only way it gets better. Chris leaving the room or getting mad about it makes it worse. Lashing out with too many emotions is how I make it worse. Chris wants to ignore things and I want to address everything. We’re working on meeting in the middle, where I let some things go unsaid and he says more things than he wants to.

Change is hard, but we know the end result will be a healthier marriage.

In February, Ellie turned nine.

The night before her birthday, I laid in bed with her and asked her about her best and worst moments at eight.

Her best moments were riding all the adult rides at Kings Island the prior summer and holding a giant python at school the week before. Worst moments were crashing her bike at the campground, busting her knee badly, and having to ride back to us hurt. Also worst: the headache she got after the fifth ride on The Beast at Kings Island. Major eight year old stuff.

What she didn’t mention—and I held my breath for it each time I asked—was Daddy or our separation or seeing him that night in the parking lot so lost and broken or visiting him in rehab. Those didn’t even cross her mind. I feel like I barely survived 2017, and Ellie’s take-away was a bike crash and a headache.

When they tell you kids are resilient, it’s true. But they have to have the skills and support and environment to rebound. For my children, that was counseling, being allowed to ask any question they wanted, and constantly being told they were safe, loved, and none of it was their fault.

Occasionally addiction and rehab and Daddy not being around last fall comes up, but the majority of the time it doesn’t. If I happen to have an alcoholic beverage while on vacation or with girlfriends, I talk to the girls about moderation and why I can have a drink and why Daddy can’t. As they get older, this will come up more often and I might choose to not drink. We’ll address that when it’s time.

I’m still in counseling but slowing down. I go once a month at this point and I think my counselor really wants to tell me I’m done for now but I keep showing up anyway. I won’t let her break up with me. She reminds me her goal is to eventually work herself out of a job and this is the best outcome of seeking therapy. Plus, she says with a smile, there will always be someone to take my place.

Saying I’m nearing the end of counseling doesn’t mean all is right in my world. But it does mean I’ve learned the necessary skills to handle stress and problems and drama with healthy coping mechanisms I didn’t have when I started. I can identify healthy relationships and establish boundaries for unhealthy ones. There’s still a lot of work to do (always), but I’m better equipped to handle it. Plus, I can go back to counseling when necessary and probably will need to at some point.

Chris and I have not been to counseling together. I’ll share more about that tomorrow.

Last week we had date night after a few months without. We went to dinner, the bookstore, and saw a movie. It was an average date night, nothing extra special or romantic. But it was good. It felt safe and comfortable after a long time of not feeling that way. When so much hard stuff has happened, even when you try to get over it, you’re still dragging it around wherever you go. It just becomes part of your story, a part of what you carry. It never really goes away. But what you do while you’re carrying it can make all the difference. You can keep carrying it so it weighs you down and makes you angry and bitter, or you can carry it around, pay it the attention and love it needs, and it becomes this lighter part instead.

We’re still working hard to make what we’re carrying lighter. We’ve still got a way to go, but it’s getting easier every day.

One year later: A life to bear witness

August 21, 2018 By mary 6 Comments

One year ago today, I started a series with a post called “A life to bear witness” preparing you, my readers, for a lot of hard stories and truths. It was the beginning, whether we knew it or not, of a journey that would end in separation, spiraling, and pain.

In some ways, it feels like I just wrote that series yesterday, but in other ways, it feels like an eternity ago. So much has changed, died, been redeemed, and been lost.

The point of sharing was to tell you of God’s glory even when I didn’t yet know what the glory was going to be. I was trusting His promises, trusting He’d continue to be faithful even when I couldn’t see very far into the future. I knew, from years of following Jesus on a twisty road, I would be okay, but I didn’t know what okay looked like.

A year later, I can tell you okay looks like everything being destroyed and slowly being rebuilt. I can tell you it looks like nothing I imagined. I can tell you it looks like hard work and obedience when it would have been easier to walk away.

Tomorrow I’m sharing an update about our marriage and life at home. Thursday I’m going to write a post to the many, many, many women who have reached out to ask how you survive betrayal and destruction in your marriage, but today, today I want to tell you about the most unexpected lesson I learned in the past year.

In my original post, I shared Rachael Held Evans’ quote from Searching for Sunday that said, “We Christians don’t get to send our lives through the rinse cycle before showing up to church. We come as we are. No hiding. No acting. No fear.”

The way that truth has shaped me in the past year has been monumental. Every fiber in my being is different now. As I shared my story, as I recovered from lies and deception, as I worked to make wise decisions in the midst of unknown, I learned there is not longer room in my life for people who hide, act, or live in fear. I don’t have the bandwidth for it. I don’t have the patience for it. I don’t have the heart for it.

I have become hardened to fake people living inauthentic lives and calling themselves Jesus followers. The Bible says God is more angered by His followers who pretend to be following the law than people who want nothing to do with it.

Listen carefully: God is more concerned with pretend Jesus followers than the ones who want nothing to do with Him. Because we have free will and get to decide; some people decide they don’t want this Jesus stuff and THEY GET TO DO THAT. But the ones who claim to follow Jesus and then IGNORE the hard parts are infuriating to God.

He calls you lukewarm, I just call you fake.

Being broken and admitting sin isn’t wrong.

Hurting and saying you need help isn’t wrong.

Pretending to be one person with your lips while actively living a completely different way is in direct defiance to God.

We Christians don’t get to send our lives through the rinse cycle before showing up to church. We come as we are. No hiding. No acting. No fear.

That means you come to church still smelling of last night’s bender. That means you come to church even though your marriage is collapsing. That means you come to church hurting and broken and asking for help. You enter those doors showing who you really are, asking people to love you and with a spirit of wanting to do better.

But you come to church ready to change. You come to church to do better. You come to church to stop hiding.

If I want my life to bear witness to what Jesus has done, first I have to show you the before. So many Jesus followers love to tell you how they were living, but only after it’s all been cleaned up (like that’s an actual thing). No one wants to tell of the mess they’re currently living in, the mess they’ve created, the mess of consequence they’re in right now, because that means they have to immediately start living differently or admit they like the chaos.

Too many of us like the chaos and, while freedom sounds good, it’s also too hard.

I shared a mess with you last August and said I was trusting God to be faithful, but I was also afraid. It became clear very quickly if I wanted better I was the one who had to start doing better. It was up to me and no one else.

So the first step was being completely honest about my situation. I chose to do part of that on the internet, because I had already been doing it for years. It wasn’t a sudden change or cry for attention. I’d been writing our story–good and bad–for a long time. This was just another chapter.

I was ready for change so I was honest about where we were and how we got there. But it starts with honesty, and it starts with an overwhelming desire to not stay the same any longer.

A friend commented recently this past year has created a foundation shift for me. Everything changed. My marriage. My friendships. My parenting. My family. My heart. My faith. My brain. My work. My writing.

Everything changed.

We Christians don’t get to send our lives through the rinse cycle before showing up to church. We come as we are. No hiding. No acting. No fear.

This started with my marriage, the refusal to live a lie anymore. It has seeped into my friendships and family relationships now too. As I did the hard work of looking at the life I had created for myself, it became apparent I was, in many close relationships, surrounding myself with liars. People who, for one reason or another, refused to be truthful about lots of things. What did that say about me? What did it say about the people I was drawn to? What did it say about the community I thought I was living in?

My counselor told me it was probably time to let some people go, but I wasn’t ready.

I’m more ready now.

Want to lie about who you are? Cool. Have a good life. I can’t be a part of that.

Want to manipulate stories and be someone different to every person you meet? Fun. See you later.

Want to pretend to be a Jesus follower but only when it’s convenient? Neat. Have a nice life.

Want to play the victim instead of be in control of your life? Good for you. Bye.

Need to hide who you are so people like you? Not for me, thanks.

Twelve months ago, I hoped for lots of outcomes. But I could not have predicted the way God has stripped my life down and begun shaping it in new, healthier ways. I could not have predicted who would be around for the healthy version and who wouldn’t be able to keep up.

My therapist says the hardest part about getting healthy is you realize how many areas and people in your life are unhealthy. And it’s not that we can’t love unhealthy people, but we have to put up safe boundaries. That’s what healthy people do, they love unhealthy people, but from afar. You don’t invite sickness and death into your inner circle–that’s not how it works if you want to keep working toward health.

It feels sad and hopeful and unknown. But if one thing has stayed the same, it is I’m trusting God with a story not yet finished. He is faithful in the mess. He is faithful in the brokenness. He is faithful when we are obedient even though it hurts.

A year ago, I shared a post called “A life to bear witness.” I had no idea how true, how hard, or how wonderful it would be. But that’s what He’s calling us to. He says let me show the world my glory through your life. It will be beauty from ashes again and again and again. It will always be worth it. It will always be hard. I will always be with you.

I’m in. I’m all in. Let’s show them your glory, God.

**A word: this is not a post about unbelievers. Jesus followers are called to be love and light and engage with them just as Jesus did. I’m not hardened to that. If anything happened this year, I’m drawn to them more than ever before. This post is about people who call themselves Christ followers who claim it in name only, who do more damage than good, who selfishly chose when Jesus is convenient and when He is not, who refuse to live authentic lives in community with other believers because it’s dangerous. Because that’s when people see their lies. That’s where my heart is in this post: to the people who serve Jesus when people are watching, and do something else when people are not. The deception I’ve lived with the past few years has made my desire to continue in relationships where deception is present non-existent. I get to decide how my life goes, and it will not go there any longer.

A different kind of August

August 16, 2018 By mary 6 Comments

For the first time in thirty-one years, I didn’t go back to school in August.

Kindergarten. College. Teaching.

August (and, let’s be honest, the end of July) were for getting ready for the classroom. Whether I was the student or the teacher, I’ve walked into a new school year every August for the majority of my life.

But not this year.

I was curious how this would feel. How sending my kids back to school without the stress of also getting myself ready. Of watching my friends and former co-workers return to their classrooms, while I didn’t ready a syllabus, make millions of copies, or eager look over my roster to see who I’d be spending the year with.

Weird reality: it didn’t bother me at all.

I anticipated the missing out. I was even looking forward to the sadness a little bit, as a way to say I was missing my calling because I have felt for years I was made to be a teacher. I was made to be in the classroom with loud-mouth kids and books and passing periods.

The eerie peace and calm I’ve felt has been unexpected. Like I almost don’t trust the way I feel right now. Shouldn’t I be worried and anxious and bummed a little?

I feel like I’m doing this wrong.

Maybe because I still bought new pens, set up a desk in a new office, and purchased a few new outfits (“writing” outfits, I shall henceforth call them), that I magically pulled out all the best parts? I know that’s not true, but I’m searching for answer and I’m willing to make them up right now.

Here’s what I’m doing while I’m not in the classroom:

–I’m writing for at least an hour every day. Uninterrupted, write-the-freaking-book writing. It is hard and good and sometimes telling the truth about the past few years makes me physically ill. But I am writing it. After years of saying I’d write something, I am actually writing. (My goal is 25,000 words by the end of August.)

–I’m writing twice a week here. I have always been overflowing with ideas for posts but there was never enough time. That is definitely weird to say since there was a period of time when I was working full time, parenting two young kids, and publishing posts at least five days a week. I cannot vouch for the quality of writing that was happening then though so there’s that.

–I’m talking. Joining the Not Terrible podcast with Jess last spring has challenged me in new and exciting ways. In a weird way, learning to share stories out loud without the option to edit much is influencing the way I write too. I’m not sure what I was expecting when Jess and I started discussing this new version of the podcast, but God’s doing some crazy things with it.

–I’m helping some local businesses manage their social media accounts. Working on the internet for over ten years has given me some skills I didn’t realize I had until someone pointed them out. So that’s cool.

–I’m sharing an office and studio. In the heart of the small town I grew up in, just a few miles from our current house, sits a blue-gray building with giant windows and really uneven floors. Jess and I have signed a lease, moved ourselves in, and are working hard to build a creative space so we can run our media businesses, collaborate with and encourage each other, and develop a place to host local events. (Full tour of the space and how you can rent it for yourself in a few weeks!)

–I’m preparing to teach again. But my students won’t have to call me Mrs. Graham (unless they want extra credit, then they totally can). One of the things I want to do with the office/studio space we’ve created is host some writer’s workshops. Gathering people to talk about the craft of writing and how to do it better in the context of telling our stories is something that gets me really excited so I’m collecting ideas, taking notes, and dreaming about what that will look like.

–I will be freelance writing more soon. But not yet. I know myself well enough and without a doubt, I can fill my days with lots of activities and work things that will take the focus off finally writing the story I need to tell. The outline is done. The prep work is done. I just have to sit and write. I’m doing it, but in the process, I’ve had to turn down some exciting opportunities or experiences so I don’t get distracted. I am trusting God will give me what I need when it’s time, but I’m trying really hard to be faithful and quiet with the task I believe He’s given me.

The reality of August coming and me not going back to the classroom but having the margin to write full time felt like a fake dream, too good to be true. But here I am, far from the halls of a school writing my little brains out. I know without a doubt it will get harder, but August has been kind to me and I’m thankful for the opportunity.

*That picture is NOT my office. I mean, seriously, you didn’t think that did you? I’m not a millionaire for goodness sake.

I’m a farmer now, here’s how you can be one too.

August 14, 2018 By mary 14 Comments

My summer dream was front yard landscaping, moving our shed off the driveway (serious, grandparents, why?), and a pergola over the back patio.

Instead I got a garden and cared about nothing else ever.

Sure, we didn’t have the time or margin to do those things, but something about our hard summer was made easier by growing things. No matter how busy the day was, no matter how tired I was, I ended my day watering my garden beds and checking the progress of my veggies.

If you look for the bright moments, you’ll find them in unexpected places and for me it was my garden.

The ironic part about this is the two garden beds we have were left at the rental house when our renters abandoned the property. They left tons of junk and two garden boxes in the garage. So in the midst of so much trash and stress, these two wooden frames were brought home and ended up being a quiet, restful part of the renovation mess.

I see you, God. I see you and your tiny gifts in hard, overwhelming things.

I see you seeing me.

As I immersed myself in becoming a full-time farmer, I had to buy a few things OF COURSE.

(Side note: Chris Graham HATES that I refer to myself as a farmer. I am well aware two garden boxes does not a farmer make, but I am living my best life in overalls and with a piece of straw hanging out of my mouth as I walk circles around my two small garden boxes. The more he protests my use of the word “farmer” the more I use it, because that is what marriage is all about.)

What’s weird about starting a garden is very quickly you’re planning new gardens and bigger gardens and perhaps within a few weeks you can live off the land and be completely off the grid? It gets very extreme very fast.

Except I can’t give up Amazon, so I think that means I’ll stay on the grid. Does Amazon count as on the grid? Who knows. Anyway here are some of my current favorite Amazon buys helping me to live my best country farmer life:

Rain gauge
I’m not going to lie, for years, I’ve seen people with rain gauges, and thought WHY? It’s 2018, people. You can just open an app on your phone and see how much it rained. But guys, now that I’m a legit farmer, I get it. Since I have raised beds, I don’t have the benefit of the ground water more traditional gardens have. I have to water my gardens once a day or things start to die. But if it rains! If it rains, I get the night off. But not just any rain, I need a very specific amount to be able to skip the watering so the rain gauge is really important. I don’t want to know how much rain my county had. I need to know how much rain this very specific spot in my backyard had and so OF COURSE I had to buy a rain gauge.

I get it now. I see why it’s necessary. So I hope to level-up and begin all telephone conversations with a discussion of the amount of rain fall we’ve had, but I am not there yet.

Rain barrel
Speaking of rain, I live on a well. Which for you city folks means lots of rain fills my well up and gives me plenty of water to use in the house. But if there’s not lots of rain or we’re going long periods of time between rain, my well is getting lower and lower. It takes pretty extreme conditions to get a well to a dangerously low level, but being frivolous with the water isn’t good either. So I bought a rain barrel, and Chris cut one of our gutter drains to fit directly on top of it so when it rains, half of all the water that hits our roofs runs into the rain barrel.

Obviously, this isn’t drinking water, but it’s perfect for watering my gardens and flowers. I read a million reviews before buying this one, and it seemed the only major complaint was it didn’t have tons of pressure if you hooked up a hose to it and tried to water a large distance from the barrel. We set ours up near the garden beds, and I just fill my watering canister from the barrel and then water that way. It’s been amazing, I’ve not run out of rain water all summer, and it’s been a great way to keep everything outside alive without using our well water.

(I understand those pictures aren’t really pretty or styled or blog-worthy, but being a farmer isn’t always about pretty pictures. Please understand I’m busy tending to the earth right now.)

Compost bin
Being a hardcore farmer means not squandering anything. So when I bring in my vegetables for dinner or weed the flower bed, I’m throwing all the yard waste into this compost bin with the hopes of using all the rich, smelly, nutritious soil to replenish my garden beds once things die and colder weather set in.

Coffee grounds, fruits, vegetables, weeds, dead flowers, and egg shells are slowly rotting and working their magic so that one day in the fall, I can spread all the rot on my gardens. It’s so gross but so amazing. I will say, I chose the WRONGGGGG spot to put this bin. I thought setting it near the garden would make it easier to run things outside from the kitchen, but it has attracted so many flies and gnats (duh, Mary) that once it’s emptied, I’ll be moving it away from the garden and the house.

Listen, even farmers have an off day, and I did not think that through.

Fake trees
This isn’t farmer related, but I love them so much so I’m throwing it in anyway. See those cute little green trees sitting on my front porch? They’re fake.

Shocking, right?

I’ve tried for years, at this house and our old one, to keep small shrubbery-type trees alive in pots. I love the look of it. But it’s freaking impossible for me to not kill them. Overwater? Check. Underwater? Check. Too much sun? Check. Not enough sun? Check.

So I ordered these from Amazon, planted them in my pots and covered them with real potting soil and I’ve been smug and happy about them ever since. I like to tell people they’re fake when the come to the front door, which I think defeats the purpose, but no one believes me when I say it.

You don’t have to tell everyone they’re fake if you get them, but I just get too excited to keep it to myself.

Charcoal grill
Actually, this isn’t mine. I’m squarely on the gas grill side of this argument, but someone I’m married to really wanted a charcoal grill. He got one for Father’s Day because when else should you get someone a gift they don’t need just to make them happy? So now Chris is slow cooking ribs and being obsessive about the smoke flavor in the hamburgers he’s making us for dinner. It’s kind of annoying, but us farmers have to be patient and sometimes that means with our farm hands.

(I can’t stop laughing that I just called my husband my “farm hand.” He’s going to love this post so, so much. Normally he edits before I hit “publish,” but I’m going to hope there are no typos and just let this one surprise him when he goes to the website. What a blessing it is to be married.)

That’s it for now–basically I just explained EVERYTHING you need to know to be a successful farmer and live off the land. Please refer any other questions to my farm hand, Chris Graham.

Mary Graham

Trusty Chucks Blog