Marinade
When I slow down and take time to reflect and feel the pulse of my family, I know there are some things missing. Reading “Leadership Education” by Oliver and Rachel DeMille confirms it. Obviously I can’t incorporate everything I think would be ideal for us overnight, but as a result of reading, studying, and praying, the Lord has helped me to prioritize what my family specifically needs.

One of the concepts mentioned in several ingredients of “Leadership Education” is the concept of hard work building both character and body. The pictures created in my mind when reading about Oliver James chopping wood, milking goats, mending fences, planting trees, and still doing the work of a scholar make my heart race. My soul hungers as I read of the DeMille children taking care of bunnies, the dog, the chickens, and most importantly, their handicapped brother, Hyrum. The DeMille’s explain, “We simply could not imagine how to have the kind of family culture our grandparents did without having the environment and activities they had. . . The yard, the animals and the home required our attention as if the homestead were a part of the family. We had to take care of it so it could take care of us.”

I recently had an invitation to my friend, Molly’s house in Round Valley. Her house is twelve miles south of Cascade. As I drove the nearly two hours to get there, I felt like I was entering into the presence of God. That sounds dramatic, I know, but the absence of everything commercial had the same effect on me as leaving a smoke-filled building to suck in that first breath of pure air. The experience, although lasting less than 24 hours, was surreal to me. Round Valley is a place where keys are left in the ignition in full faith that they will still be there upon return, where the night sky is darker and yet brighter at the same time, where you can clearly see the view of the mist hanging in the trees at the base of the mountain, and where cattle have the right of way.

Upon my return, I cried: first, because I felt like I was headed back to Sodom; second, because we were 4 weeks away from buying a house in a perfect little neighborhood with a yard, a fence and lots of neighbors. It’s all I ever wanted . . . until Cascade. I don’t want what I used to want. I want a place for my children to play and explore outside without the worry of neighbors disliking the noise, or traffic whizzing by, or sex offenders in the house down the street. I am tired of the HOA complaining about toys left in the front yard and weeds in the cracks of the driveway (true story). This is the season in my life that is for rearing children, molding character, building human edifices to God. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t have the delusion that simply moving a few miles south, buying a few chickens, and chopping some wood will fix all our problems and make us magically complete. However, I do feel that a change in the lifestyle of my family will aid us in becoming the kind of people Heavenly Father needs.

I’ve heard that when you read a book over and over, you have a different experience each time —not because the book has changed but because you have. That’s how I felt when I came home. Everything was different. I saw my house and family differently. I treated them with more care. My house hadn’t changed, my children and husband were the same, but I had changed through my experience in Cascade. And it made all the difference. What changes could come through a daily marinade of souls in such an environment? I can only imagine.