Gratitude in the Season of Rebuilding

Gratitude feels different these days.

Not because life suddenly got easy, but because I can finally see the distance between where I started and where I’m now standing . After eight years of building this farm in Alabama — and especially after the year I lost dealing with Fred Sanford Jr Jr — I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude in ways I didn’t expect. It hits me in waves.  Sometimes while I’m watering a plant that almost didn’t make it. Sometimes when I’m sweeping the porch or our just walking out into the yard I'm still cleaning. Sometimes when I’m just standing still, realizing I’m here — rebuilding, again — when there were moments I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back to this place.

The long road back to myself

Since the end of 2024, life has been a steady climb. Not a sprint. Not a straight line. A climb. One step, one task, one breath at a time. I’ve had to reclaim my rhythm, my footing, my confidence, and my joy. And every time I look around at what’s growing — even the small things — I feel gratitude rise up in me like a tide threatening to take me over. Because I remember the days when everything felt paused. When the Farmacy was quiet. When I was carrying more than I could name. When I wasn’t sure how to start again. But I did. And I am. And that alone is something to be grateful for.

Gratitude as a companion in the rebuilding

Rebuilding isn’t glamorous. It’s messy, slow, humbling work. It’s cleaning up old soil, repotting what survived, letting go of what didn’t, and trusting that the next season will meet you with more than the last season took. But gratitude makes the work lighter. It reminds me that even in the hardest seasons, something was still holding me. The dream. My ancestors. My own stubborn hope. The people who kept checking in. The community that kept showing up. The family that allowed me the freedom to grow. The quiet voice inside that said, “You’re not done.”

Almost eight years in Alabama, and still becoming

When I first came to Alabama eight years ago, I didn’t know this land would become my teacher. I didn’t know it would become a healing space. I didn’t know it would become a farm, a business, a calling, definitely not a legacy. I just knew something in me needed to do my part. Now, standing in this season of rebuilding, I can see the full circle of it. The way the land held me while I held everything else together. The way the Farmacy waited for me. The way gratitude keeps showing up as a reminder that I’m not starting from scratch — I’m starting from experience.

Gratitude for the journey, not just the wins

I’m grateful for the progress I can see. I’m grateful for the progress no one else can see. I’m grateful for the days that felt heavy and the days that felt like hope. I’m grateful for the chance to rebuild what I love. I’m grateful for the woman I’m becoming in the process. And I’m grateful for you — for being part of this journey, for witnessing the rebuilding, for rooting for me as I root myself deeper into this land and this work. This season is teaching me that gratitude isn’t just a feeling. It’s a practice. A grounding. A way of remembering that even after the hardest years, life can still rise again.