The start of a home.

UPDATE: After reading this story our builder and his wife asked us for a meeting. Knowing what truly good people they are, I was scared that they were going to want to help. We need the help, but the guilt every time it's offered is overwhelming, and I dread it almost as much as I appreciate it. My fears were valid. They've come up with a plan. Instead of pouring an entire foundation with footings, we are going to "pole build" the main level. Which I've learned means setting poles and then pouring a small concrete outline of the house that the electric company can work with, and leaving the inside to be filled in later. I've also learned this is significantly less money. On top of this change, the builder and his father-in-law made time in their insane schedules (he has 5 kids) to excavate the land themselves, for far less than the original company had quoted us, bringing our cost from 40,000 down to around 10,000. Any money that is donated will go towards this and any that is extra will be put towards our septic system, which the builder has offered to do for us also. I don't even know how to say how incredibly grateful we are, for them, and also everyone else that has helped so far.

Current life situation is “Living in the dust bowl during the Great Depression.” That’s what I say to people when they stop by anyways. We’re in the midst of no electricity, no Wi-Fi, no cell service, no functioning sewage system, middle of the woods, 3 legged dog, a million kids, dirty footed, farm family thing, and when we cleared the brush to make room for the 2 campers we call home, we were left with a giant dirt pile that hasn’t had any substantial rain in over a month, and we find ourselves breathing in the unsettled dust, and then wearing the settled dust as it coats pretty much everything imaginable. What we need is a concrete slab for our home, and we need it because it’s the thing that will get us electricity, and the electricity will get us Wi-Fi and those things will allow us to keep working at our someday not so little candle co.

Don’t get me wrong. We’re super grateful people. We’re undying optimists in fact and I’ll get into that later in the story, this is the part where I vent about the hard stuff because as much as we don’t regret any choice that has led us here, as much as we are on the path to where we want to be; that path is really f—king hard and I think that should be acknowledged. We always joke that we’d hit rock bottom and thought it could only be up, but then realized there’s a cave underneath, actually that there’s a whole network of caves. That’s about how things are going.

We’re the new blended family. Two sisters that are divorced, living with our combined 5 kids, and one “grown” kid plus his partner. We both left marriages that we should have never been in and should have never stayed in, and we left with no degrees, or careers, credit, savings, or anything to our names. We started our own business, us and Riley, the grown one, and we’ve put our all into it for the past 5 years.

We tried to be traditional for a while, all having our own homes, but demand was high, and prices were higher, and waiting lists were years, and at one point even the United Way told me they had so many calls each day, that they just couldn’t help. So we made the decision to all move in together. Riley, the “grown son” into the basement, and Holly and I and our kids intermixed in the rest of the house. There weren’t enough rooms, but what we had been able to afford on our own hadn’t had enough rooms either. My kids had never known what it’s like to have a space of their own so they didn’t complain.

We rescued 2 dogs from the shelter, one with only 3 working legs, and one with a sometimes working brain, and it’s complicated but we started rescuing horses too. A bitchy one that the vet had suggested be put down, one from the YMCA that had a permanent leg injury, a pony retired from birthday party gigs because of sore feet, and an old one with nubs for teeth who eats mashed food. We were content.

So here’s the cave, or the first cave I should say. As Holly’s divorce was finalized, the payout amount she would owe to her ex-husband in order for us to keep that house, was far more than we could afford combined. So the house was sold in a week. The house where our company workshop was located. Being the optimists we are, we took this as a chance to choose the life we really wanted. The money Holly would get wasn’t enough for a new house, but it was enough for land. It was enough for 7 acres if we ventured away from civilization. 7 acres that wouldn’t have the restrictions of a development, and offered the space for our combined families, a new workshop, and menagerie of saved animals. After the land was paid for we purchased 2 campers, and had a well installed. The electricity was supposed to be inexpensive, maybe free; we planned to have a temporary service line installed and then connect to Wi-Fi, so we could keep working. Once the business was up and running we’d use the money to start building the house.

Then cave number 2 emerges. The electric company won’t run power unless the house is already being built. The land needs to be cleared, blueprints made, permits pulled, and foundation poured. We have already secured a business loan for the workshop, but it turns out that getting power without a residential dwelling in not easy and really expensive, especially in the middle of nowhere. F—king optimists remember? We get a generator. It helps, but it’s hard. It’s heavy, and we have to push it up the dusty driveway every day to power the pump for the well, and then back down to the campers, which is an improvement over previously carrying buckets of water from our pond. It’s over 90 degrees, and the horses go through water fast. Running the air conditioning blows the fuse on the generator. So we cool off taking cold showers outside and submerging ourselves in a giant water trough. We build a pasture with the help of our neighbor, and then another. We buy a saw and start clearing the woods. Holly’s 14 year old daughter makes a stand at the top of the gravel road to sell firewood that she bundles in plastic wrap. We start taking weekly trips to the laundromat and hanging our clothes on the line to dry. We’re figuring it out, but trying to work is hard when you’re expending everything you have trying to survive, and the resources for our business don’t exist to us.

Cave number 3. See, I bet you thought that was rock bottom too. Holly’s ex-husband came and took her vehicle. Unable to pay him the full amount when he asked, it was gone within a half hour. So now we share. We share a vehicle that can’t tow our trailer to pick up hay, so we have it delivered to the end of the drive and roll the large round bales down by hand. We share a vehicle that doesn’t fit all of our kids so we pick and choose who can come, and we share a vehicle because we know that a car loan right now would be impossible without the company up and running.

I feel like I need to explain to you, our potential supporter why we hold on to this thing even while we struggle, why we are so steadfast determined to never give up on something that sometimes barely supports our survival. We aren’t asking for help simply because we want to follow our dreams however detrimental they may be. While running this company Riley has gotten a Bachelors Degree in business on top of delivering pizzas every weekend. Holly worked mornings at a daycare, while raising 4 kids entirely on her own and coming home to pour candles until nighttime. I’ve been moonlighting as an Instacart shopper, in between school pick ups and drop offs. This business offers the chance of raising our families up from poverty, and it offers a chance to impact the world around us. It is more than a paycheck that allows us to get by, it is open ended possibility.

Now back to the good. The things we’re grateful for in this sucky situation. Random strangers from Facebook stepped up to help trailer our horses to the new land. Our older sister came to help us move every weekend, and let’s us shower and do laundry at her house without hesitation. Riley’s high school friend was always there with his truck when we needed to move the campers or pick up an in need horse. Another high school friend borrowed his work van and was over every night to move the business equipment into storage. Our mom offered moral support and her garage for storage. The new neighbor helped us build the horse pastures, cleared the land with his tractor, offered us an extra generator to use, and let’s the teenage girls use the Netflix at his house while he’s working. Our other neighbor sends the kids popsicles, l donating her outdoor rug and helped us with repairs, but really she’s become like family.

If you want to help us you can donate to this fundraiser, no amount is too small, purchase candles from our company at hivetohomecandleco.com, invest in our business, donate concrete or excavating services, supplies or food for the horses, share, share, share x 1000, or send some moral support. ♥️

Every donator will have their name painted on our new workshop floor, and shared to our website and social media accounts.