The real estate agent slid the paperwork to my husband and me, titled with an address I couldn’t help but recognize.

It was a buyer’s contract for the house just up the road from where I grew up.

My brain did a double take, remembering my 18-year-self — wide-eyed and ready to take on the world. Confident that life would take me far beyond the Sangamon River bottom.

And that it has. But as it turns out, Oakford, Ill., will always be home. And that’s where we’re settling down.

I spent the first 18 years of my life on a farm near Oakford. It’s where I spent my childhood barefoot, chasing animals; where I spent my teenage years causing trouble; and where I blossomed into an adult.

I attended college at the University of Missouri and was sure I’d marry a Missouri boy and never return to Menard County, Ill. Little did 18-year-old Betty know, she’d bring that Missouri boy back to Oakford.

It’s funny how life works. Sometimes God gives you exactly what you need — even if it’s what you don’t think you want.

Embracing a slower pace

In 2017, my husband and I bought a farm that connected to the farm where I grew up. In January, we got the call that the house on the farm was selling. We jumped at the chance to buy it and have not looked back — even if interest rates are less than desirable.

We’ve lived in a house close to town for the first seven years of our marriage, and to be honest, it’s never felt quite right. My husband says leaving our house to go to the farm always feels like he’s going to a corporate job, leaving us for the day. Now that we’re moving to the farm, our daughter, Clare, will always have her daddy a stone’s throw away.

Moving to the farm feels like a new beginning for our family, but not in the way you might think. After years of chasing the next big thing, we’re tired of trying to fill the God-sized hole and ending up disappointed.

The move to the farm feels like a reset for us. A chance to reconnect with God and with each other.

As a society, it feels like a switch has been flipped in all of us, where we’re busier, more distracted and less content than ever. I don’t want to live like that, and I sure don’t want my daughter to live like that.

Are you busier than ever, running on the hamster wheel to nowhere?

2024 feels like the perfect time for us to make a radical change, to reject the rat race and come home. To raise our family in wide open spaces and embrace a slower pace in a world that glorifies busyness. And maybe you too? Rejecting the rat race doesn’t have to be a big move — maybe it’s putting down your phone and opening God’s word, or being present with those you love instead of turning on the TV.

Are you embracing a slower pace in the wake of burnout? Let me know your thoughts. Email [email protected].