Look at these wonderful little hens stitched across a soft cotton tee that somehow say more about me than I ever could in a thousand conversations: Chickens are awesome!
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I wore a different kind of uniform once. Years ago, I served in the military—an experience that shaped me, strengthened me, and, in some ways, shattered me. The discipline, the bonds, the pride… and the trauma. When I came home, I brought pieces of war with me that no one could see. PTSD didn’t look like the movies; it looked like sleepless nights, snapping nerves, and the quiet ache of trying to feel normal in a world that had kept spinning without me.
I needed healing. Not just therapy, but purpose. Something that would rebuild me from the ground up.
So I started a farm.
It wasn’t glamorous. It was hard. Dirt under the nails, early mornings, broken fences, and budgets that rarely balanced. But each seed I planted and chore I taught my kids became therapy. The routine grounded me. The chaos of livestock taught me patience. Watching my children learn to live simply and love fully was the miracle I didn’t know I needed. Hope gave me strength to believe healing was possible. Family gave me a reason to keep showing up. Farming gave me space to grow back into someone I recognized.
And if I had to pick one animal that’s taught the most about responsibility around here—it’s the chickens. It was were I started.
They’re small, manageable, and surprisingly great teachers. My kids help gather eggs each morning—rain or shine—and they’ve learned that animals rely on them. They clean the coop, refill water bowls, and scatter feed, all while learning what it means to be consistent and dependable. We talk about where food comes from, about care and stewardship, about the difference between “chores” and contribution. The coop isn’t just a space for feathers and straw—it’s a classroom where character is built.
So when I saw that tee—of those funny little hens.—I laughed. It felt like someone had printed my testimony on a shirt.
I wear it while I gather eggs and while I sit under the wide South Dakota sky. It’s soft and honest, like the life I’ve built. It’s a reminder that I’m not defined by the hardest chapters of my past, but by the grace that followed.
If you’re walking a road like mine—or just want to wear something that honors the life you’re building—you can find the shirt here https://amzn.to/41tvGDp . It’s more than a tee. It’s a statement.
Thanks for reading my story. And if you’re wearing your own version of this shirt—literally or metaphorically—I see you. Keep going. 🌾