Come what may, we live here

I don't know about you, but the news has been very depressing lately. We don't have television, of course; and even radio reception in our area is scant. But the internet is a window into every woe in the world, and sometimes it can get to be a very big downer to scan the headlines in the morning while drinking my tea.

So this morning, after reading something particularly heinous, I looked out the window at all the song birds attracted to the feeder, and realized something very, very important:

Come what may, we live here.

Seriously, our modest little home on modest little acreage has become – in just the four months we've lived here – a haven against all the turmoil and chaos in the wider world.

We have so many plans for this place. We're working on projects and improving the infrastructure to turn our acreage into another self-sufficient homestead. Whenever the rest of the world seems to be spinning out of control, we have to mentally withdraw and focus on what we can change, not on what we can't.

There is a certain peace that comes with letting go of things we can't control (which, of course, is what the Serenity Prayer is all about). When I see a particularly egregious headline, I look out the window and admire the Cassin's finches or lesser goldfinches or evening grosbeaks gathering at the bird feeder, and take a deep breath.

Come what may, we live here.