We Couldn't Even Afford Coffee

Nope.

“But you could still go on dates and things, right?”

We couldn’t even afford coffee.

Makayla was asking me questions from the backseat as we headed to Home Depot to buy drywall screws. Our hallway and stairs are plaster, and we’ve been covering over it with ¼” drywall, part of a house project push I’m thoroughly enjoying in these slower, winter months.

Honestly, it’s strange being able to afford things like drywall screws. We were looking at a bank statement from our first year of marriage, and after all our bills were paid, we only had $20. I felt stressed just looking at it.

I’ve often felt that our life feels like the settlers going West in their long chains of wagons with only a few possessions and each other. Owning a small business is a lot like the farms they built from nothing; there’s good seasons and hard seasons and through it all you’re clinging to dreams and love.

In high school, I used to write letters to myself on the backs of my exams (I know, I was weird—but it was high school—and you were probably weird too). I’d write encouraging things to cheer myself up and enjoy reading them when I got my test back a few days later. I found a random one recently with some old high school keepsakes and was struck by how much inner pain I could see in my writing, especially for someone who had so much to be grateful for. I’m sure we’d all say different things to our younger selves if we could meet them, but I’d say, “You little son-of-a-gun, you end up so happy.”

You can’t put a value on swing dancing with your daughters or watching winter sunsets with your wife or the satisfaction of working with your hands.

Joel and Katy