There are some moments in life that stay with you long after they happen. Not because they were planned, but because they arrived exactly when you needed them.
Yesterday, I had one of those moments.
It all started with a customer who had stopped by our farmstand. She was interested in purchasing one of our whole chickens, but before making that decision, she wanted to know more about how they had been raised. That simple question meant so much to me because it’s exactly the kind of conversation I hope to have with people who visit J & J Homestead.
Our chickens aren’t just another product on a shelf. We know each flock. We care for them every single day, from the moment they arrive as tiny chicks until they’re ready to provide food for another family. Every bag of feed, every bucket of fresh water, every coop cleaning, every health check, and every improvement we make to their living conditions reflects the care that goes into raising them.
Rather than sending a quick email, she asked if we could talk on the phone.
Of course.
What I thought would be a short conversation about poultry turned into one of the most uplifting, encouraging, and genuinely heartwarming conversations I’ve had in a very long time.
She and her husband are fellow homesteaders. Their focus is different from ours—they raise goats and rabbits—but immediately we found ourselves speaking the same language.
The language of early mornings.
The language of unexpected challenges.
The language of celebrating small victories that most people would never think twice about.
As we talked, I found myself learning so much. We discussed livestock, caring for animals, the lessons that only experience can teach, and the countless little details that make homesteading both incredibly rewarding and incredibly humbling.
But as wonderful as all of that was, I realized I wasn’t learning the most important lesson from our conversation.
The most important lesson had nothing to do with chickens.
Or goats. Or rabbits.
It was about community.
Sometimes, especially through social media, it can feel like homesteading is about trying to do everything yourself. Raise every animal. Grow every vegetable. Bake every loaf of bread. Preserve every harvest. Build every structure. Learn every skill.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that being a “real” homesteader means mastering every single aspect of this lifestyle.
But that’s never really been the heart of homesteading. Homesteading has always been about community.
As we talked, I was amazed by the network of people she had built over the years. What struck me most was that it wasn’t something she had intentionally set out to create. She hadn’t developed a strategic plan for networking.
Instead, those relationships had grown naturally through curiosity.
Through asking questions.
Through wanting to learn.
Through helping others.
One conversation led to another. One introduction became a friendship. One shared experience became another opportunity to learn.
It reminded me that the homesteading community is one of the few places where knowledge is often shared as freely as a basket of fresh tomatoes.
Someone has already solved the problem you’re facing.
Someone else is eager to learn the lesson you’ve already figured out.
When we’re willing to share our experiences honestly—the successes and the mistakes—we all become better stewards of our land, our animals, and our communities.
That realization was incredibly refreshing.
At J & J Homestead, we raise chickens, turkeys, honey bees, and a large garden. We bake for our farmstand and share our journey here on the website. But that doesn’t mean we have to become experts in every corner of homesteading.
There are people who know far more about goats. Others who have mastered rabbits. Some who have perfected orchards, dairy cows, mushrooms, maple syrup, sheep, or fiber arts. And believe me, there are those that know much more about chickens, honey bees, and turkeys than we do.
Rather than seeing those differences as competition, we should see them as opportunities.
The beauty of homesteading is that none of us has to do it all.
Instead, we can each become passionate about the things that bring us joy while learning from others whose passions are different from our own.
When we support one another, everyone benefits.
One family provides honey. Another raises goats. Someone else grows incredible produce. Another bakes beautiful sourdough bread.
Each homestead becomes part of something much bigger than itself.
That is exactly the kind of community I want to be part of.
The phone call also reminded me why I enjoy operating our farmstand so much. Yes, we’re grateful every time someone purchases fresh eggs, vegetables, baked goods, or chicken. But what truly makes this journey meaningful are the conversations that happen because of it.
Sometimes those conversations happen at the farmstand itself.
Sometimes they happen through an email.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they become an unexpected phone call that leaves you feeling inspired long after you’ve hung up.
By the time our conversation ended, I wasn’t just thankful that someone wanted to learn about our chickens.
I was thankful that a complete stranger had reminded me why I started sharing our homesteading journey in the first place.
Not because I have all the answers. Far from it. I share because I’m still learning every single day. Every season brings new challenges. Every animal teaches a new lesson. Every harvest reminds me that nature is wonderfully unpredictable.
And every once in a while, someone comes into your life—even briefly—and reminds you that the best part of homesteading isn’t found in a perfectly tended garden or a full pantry.
It’s found in the people.
So if you’ve ever hesitated to introduce yourself to another homesteader, ask a question, share an idea, or simply strike up a conversation, let this be your encouragement.
Reach out. Be curious. Share what you’ve learned. Ask about someone else’s experiences. Support local farms, even when they raise something different from you.
You never know when an ordinary question about a chicken might turn into exactly the conversation your heart needed.
Yesterday, that’s exactly what happened to me.
And I couldn’t be more grateful for the phone call that I never expected to have.
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