(And yes, I made WAY too much pie on purpose. If you’re local, come get some.) 🥧✨

Happy Thanksgiving from our little homestead to yours. 🤎

May gratitude open your eyes, and may God give you strength for the winter ahead.

He is faithful — yesterday, today, and forever.

Wherever you are today — at a feast, at work, on the road, or sitting quietly with the Lord — I pray you feel held.

I pray you feel guided.

I pray you feel remembered.

The kids helped bake pumpkin bread last night, and my husband’s already prepping the turkey. There’s flour everywhere and the dogs keep stealing the kitchen towels. It’s chaos… the holy kind. 😂

This year, as we’re building the little church on our land, I feel extra aware of legacy. Of the shoulders we stand on. Of the Lord weaving stories together — Native, settler, immigrant, wanderer — and making something bigger than any one of us.

My grandmother used to say,
"Prophecy isn’t just about the future. It’s about remembering who God has already been."

And every Thanksgiving meal is exactly that — a remembering. A testimony spread across a table.

So today I honor both:

• the Pilgrims, who clung to God when everything around them looked impossible
• the Native peoples, whose generosity, resilience, and presence have survived unspeakable storms

You can hold gratitude and truth at the same time. 🧡

Thanksgiving is such a layered day for me.

I was raised honoring the courage and faith of the Pilgrims — people who crossed an ocean believing God had a purpose for them.

But I also carry Native blood, and with that comes another story… a quieter one, but just as sacred.

As I was feeding the animals this morning, I kept thinking about how every season on this homestead feels like a living prophecy — seed to sprout to harvest. The Lord’s promises aren’t abstract out here… they grow right in front of us.