Life in a 1790 Farmhouse: Faith, Business Growth & a Season of Stewardship

There are seasons you pray for, seasons you work for, and seasons that arrive all at once — and somehow this has been all three.

You may have noticed I’ve been a bit absent — on the blog, in your inbox, even on socials. The last few months have been full. Full of joy. Full of stretching. Full of answered prayers. Full of work.

Life inside our 1790 farmhouse on eight acres doesn’t tend to move slowly — and this season felt especially full.

A Season of Answered Prayer

For five years Nick and I have been praying to start a family. Not only have we prayed but family, friends, pastors, strangers on the internet have prayed. If I am being really honest we were beginning to doubt it would ever happen. If I’m being honest, my prayer shifted. It became less pleading and more surrender:

“Lord, if parenting isn’t for us, make that abundantly clear and give us peace. If adoption is our path, make it clear and give us peace. If we’re meant to keep believing for a baby, make that clear and give us peace.”

For three months, I prayed that prayer.

And what I heard was… nothing.

I heard nothing, I felt no peace in any of those three directions so I just kept praying it. Then one day I read something online. I remember the exact day September 10th. The day Charlie Kirk was assassinated.

Early in the day I read “If you are negotiating with God then you haven’t fully surrendered”. It hit me like a ton of bricks. While pleading with God for a baby I had a list of things, of fears, that I was holding onto in my heart. Essentially, I was negotiating with God. I wanted a baby, but I wanted one on my terms, not His. Right then in there I prayed. Lord, you know my fears, you know my heart, but I want your plan for my life, not mine. Your ways are greater than my ways, I surrender it all to you. I will take whatever you have for me in this life. 

Shortly after, on October 6th, I found out I was pregnant.

We were over the moon.

And then two weeks later, reality hit. I had expected morning sickness — I hadn’t anticipated 24/7 sickness. I’ll spare you the details… but let’s just say I am very grateful for the second trimester.

Five years of waiting taught me that faith isn’t passive — it’s stewardship of hope, even when you don’t see the outcome yet.

This alone would have been enough to reshape our year. 

In the words of Ron Popiel, and other late night tv marketers “But wait, there’s more!” 

A Decade of Building

October 2025 marked a decade that LG Howard & Company Salon has been in business. 10 years. A milestone only a small percentage of businesses ever reach.

Photos from 10 years ago when I first opened the salon

After ten years of wear and tear it was time for a serious face life for the business. In preparation for our double-digit birthday we decided to go big. During the months of August, September and October we underwent major renovations. I’m not talking a fresh coat of paint. I am talking construction zone. Walls put up, walls torn down. All new everything. I flew to atlanta in the morning picked out all new everything and flew home the same evening. We hired contractors, electricians, plumbers, painters all that were scheduled down to the day due to the fact that we never closed. Not even a single day. So when the painter no showed 5 days before all of the new furniture was to be delivered it caused a slight panic.

Thanks to my team, my dad and an all around group effort we some how managed to get everything done in time to celebrate our big 1-0.

To say that that process felt all consuming would be an understatement. 

Photos of construction and new salon decor

While those milestones were unfolding….

Our first year homesteading with livestock

This topic will rightfully-so be getting its own entire blog in a couple of week. Here’s the short version:

 In the course of the last year we have accumulated 4 cows, 1 steer, 5 guineas, 30 chickens, 15 turkeys, 2 goats and a livestock guardian dog named Dave.

Not to mention building garden beds, renovations on our 1790 home and MAJOR pasture clean up.

While being a business owner I thought I understood responsibility. I understood payroll and deadlines. I didn’t yet understand daily stewardship of living things that depend on you no matter how you feel. However caring for this land, these animals, expanded my mind and heart in ways I couldn’t have understood before. The early morning chores, come rain or snow, sunshine or sleet. Zero days off. The strength emotionally, mentally, and physically required in our first year homesteading has stretched me…

Caring for this land and these animals has reshaped how I understand stewardship. It’s daily, unseen, and often inconvenient — but it’s sacred work. And in many ways, it has been preparing my heart for motherhood long before I knew it.

Why I went quiet

If you made it this far you may be thinking “uh Liza, you just explained it”. But I didn’t really. Sure I gave you an update on all the stuff. But I didnt explain it. 

See, there would have been a time I would have powered through. I would have worked myself to death, would have given up sleep. I would have sat on the floor of my bathroom next to the toilet with laptop in hand just to do the work that needed to be done. 

But I made a choice.

Rest.

Guilt-free rest.

Stewardship doesn’t always mean doing more. Sometimes it means protecting what matters most — your health, your peace, your marriage, your calling — even when the world rewards productivity instead.

I honored what this past season of my life needed. What I needed was presence. I needed to be in it. Chaos swirled around me. I needed to be still in the noise so I could find the peace. I needed depth- not productivity.

Lessons I’ve learned

I’ve learned that our capacity isn’t a fixed container.. It is not rigid, unless we are rigid. Our capacity grows with our willingness to stretch past our discomfort. 

Responsibility is a gift not a burden. There were many “the show must go on” moments. While I am blessed to have an amazing husband and a terrific team that picked up my slack there were some thing that just had to be me. In these moments it can be so easy to have a pity party of one. However the truth it, the responsibility is a blessing, even when it doesn’t feel like it in the moment. The responsibilities we hold today are often the prayers of someone else. Don’t take it for granted. 

Being in the moment doesn’t always mean sharing in the moment. Sometimes that’s because of the sensitivity of the topic. Like waiting until after the first trimester to share our exciting news about the baby. Sometimes it’s because you need to learn a lesson before you can share it. Sometimes it’s just because you need to be fully in the here and now and just don’t have the capacity to share. Any reason, it’s okay to be in it now and share it later. 

If you’re in your first year of homesteading — or considering raising livestock for the first time — I hope sharing this season honestly helps you see both the beauty and the responsibility of this lifestyle.

So what’s next

• Honest homesteading lessons
• Practical advice
• Delicious recipes
• Emotional realities
• An intentional rhythm
• A continuation of building this space slowly and thoughtfully

I strive to make this space real, honest, and rooted. Thank you for being here — for growing alongside us.

This season has reminded me that faith isn’t just something we speak — it’s something we steward. We steward the land. We steward our businesses. We steward the animals entrusted to us. We steward our marriages. And now, we steward new life.

Here’s to continued stretching. To babies in the spring — both human and animal. To responsibility that refines us. And to trusting that the One who gives the vision is faithful to sustain it.