Ten acres for some people may not seem like much land. A friend of mine grew up on 150 acres, and she said her place was small compared to her neighbors. So, I don’t mean to make a big deal out of something that, well, isn’t. But much of our perspective is based on our own narratives and life experience, and for me, a woman who grew up in Wheaton, a stereotypical suburb with oversized houses and well manicured lawns sprawling throughout, the idea of more than even one acre of land was beyond my ability to imagine. I later lived in Portland, Oregon, where small plots of land where the norm and even when we moved to a house in Cincinnati, Ohio, where your dollar stretches much farther than on the West Coast, we still only had a 1/3 acre but even that seemed like a massive change (coming from Portland) that we had to adjust to. So, when moving to Atlanta where houses seemed to go off the market before they even were listed, our assumption was that we’d get something similar to Portland, and if we were lucky, perhaps we’d even score another 1/3 acre. Expectations were modest.

But, as you know, our story turned out a bit differently, and hopefully now you can see why I often sound like I am in awe when I think about our property’s size. It is a massive undertaking that both my husband and I, suburban kids born and raised that we are, had no idea would one day be our undertaking.

Yet here we are. Philo is ours and we have the gift of caring for this place well. It’s a vulnerable position given we know so little and are committing to a very different lifestyle. We laughed one day watching our oldest say, “oh I see something” and then a moment later popping up with a lizard in his hand. We knew then that our childrens’ childhood will be radically different than ours.

As we explore the land and figure out how to care for it, we have to get to know it first. This is the hard part. I want to get moving, start doing, but alas, we cannot. A phrase I live by is “be before doing” usually referencing the need to be present with God and before God before going out and doing things in the world - especially when it relates to hospitality. But in this case “be” for us means observe, watch, experience the land before doing anything. Notice the turtles and fish that fill our pond. Listen to the sounds of the bull frogs. Watch the deer frolic through your yard. Hear the birds. Be present.

Now, like most people with smartphones armed with cameras do, I often whip out my phone and take photos of the land, more often than not, I’m either using the Seek app to identify a plant or insect or I’m capturing video of baby turtles swimming in our pond. I enjoy sharing the journey so this series, Scenes from Philo, is my place to chronicle the changes we witness. We’ll eventually start making changes, but for now, we want to wait a full four seasons before we do anything, so we can take in simply getting to know our new home.

So welcome to the journey - or rather, welcome to Philo. I hope you enjoy these as much as we do.