I remember the first week we moved into this Extreme Home Makeover house. Truthfully, my heart was still somewhere in Colorado. I knew coming back to Iowa was the right decision, but I had not fully bought into the vision my husband was so eager to jump into. I was physically here, but emotionally I was still holding on to the what-ifs.
It was right after Christmas when he asked me to bundle up, head outside, and bring the camera. I will be honest, I was not pleasant. I was sarcastic and dismissive, and I gave him a hard time about documenting our journey on YouTube. Deep down, I think I was afraid. Afraid I would have to dust off old skills I learned in college, skills I never really had the chance to use or fully believe in. I was also afraid of what people would think. After all, I had left Iowa to prove I could make it on my own, and here I was, coming back and stepping into something I did not feel qualified to do and did not think I deserved. So I packed that vision away and tucked it next to the box of dreams labeled maybe someday.
I handed him the camera anyway.
I had no idea that moment would quietly mark the beginning of an entirely new life for us.
As I stood there filming him share his hopes for the property, I remember thinking, how are we ever going to pull this off? Recently, I rewatched that video almost five years later while searching for old footage of the barn we ultimately decided to keep and restore. In that video, we casually said we were going to tear it down.
Life had other plans.
That first summer brought more firsts than we could have imagined. We began to understand how much work the land truly needed. There were moments of regret and defeat, but more often there were moments of progress, pride, and renewed vision. About a year and a half later, we launched The Barn Fund Project.
I remember Ryan asking me to design a T-shirt to help raise money for the restoration. I did. Then winter came and mysterious packages started arriving. I watched my husband slowly assemble a commercial vinyl cutter I did not ask for and was not prepared for. The confidence this man has in me is, at times, overwhelming.
When I asked why he did not talk to me first, he said, “Because I knew you would shoot it down.”
That vinyl cutter sat untouched for a year.
Then another winter came, and something in me shifted. I decided it was time to figure it out. I sat beside that machine in tears more than once, frustrated, angry, convinced my husband had forced this on me. But those feelings did not last long. Because deep down, I knew something else was true. He believed in me because he knew I always figure things out.
And I did.
I am still figuring it out.
Then a hat press showed up. Same conversation. Same doubt. And that summer at the market, I started selling hats for the Barn Fund Project, fully designing them myself. I fell in love with the process. At the same time, we were building greenhouses, opening new growing spaces, launching a farmstand, and doing all of it while working full-time jobs.
Life was stressful.
But it was rewarding.
Just a month and a half ago, Ryan was asked to speak at an event. He asked if I could create 40 shirts using vinyl we already had, cost effective, good quality, and fast. Two years ago, that request would have paralyzed me. This time, my answer was easy.
Absolutely.
I designed it. Cut it. Weeded it. Pressed it. Even tackled a two color design. Then I finally used that puffy vinyl I had been too afraid to touch and ordered trucker hats to match. On event day, I ran the farm table while Ryan presented. I controlled the slides. Played the videos. We moved in sync.
We were a team.
The support we received that day, and the shirts and hats sold, went straight back into the barn fund.
Earlier this year, Ryan asked a hard question. What if we just put up a pole barn instead? Everyone had opinions about what we should do versus what our hearts were telling us.
My answer was immediate.
No.
We made a promise to save her. And yes, I call the barn her, because I see myself in her. Weathered. Overlooked. Full of potential. I told Ryan I did not care if it took our lifetime. We would die trying. We would save, sell merch, and restore her without taking on new debt.
He looked at me and said, “Okay. Let’s get this plan moving.”
It took months to find anyone willing to even look at the barn. Then one day, the call came. God sent. The roof and siding were completed, and not even a day later, Ryan was out there painting her the color that has lived in our hearts for years.
At first, I was upset. Then I understood.
This barn is pulling us forward.
That same day, I went and bought more paint.
Because this barn, without a doubt, is restoring us right alongside her.
Moral of the Story – Fill your life with people who will inspire and motivate you to live outside of your comfort zone. I have realized that most of my success has come from the paths with the most resistance. Don’t forget that. ❤️✌🏼-Jamie
Moral Of The Story 