Arbor Day Farms

I’m hanging out in my own room literally surrounded by fluffy, white pillows at the GORGOUS Lied Lodge at Arbor Day Farms in Nebraska City tonight, and I have to tell you something.

Six months ago, I didn’t know this place existed, not to mention that I would have a new job doing what I love to send me here.

Tonight I’m here on someone else’s dime — meals covered, room covered, learning covered — because I said yes to a role that puts me in rooms with people who care about the land the way I do. I get paid to learn about grazing plans, connect with farmers, and help build something that matters.

I want you to sit with that for a second, because I’m still sitting with it myself.

Here’s what happened tonight that I don’t want to forget. I was venting — the way you do when you trust someone — about my writing, my voice, whether any of it is actually good. And in the middle of that conversation, I caught myself doing the thing I always do.

Someone’s husband called last week just to tell me his wife loves my emails. A customer sends me a note almost every week. Someone doing mindset work told me the same thing. And I had the audacity to think: they’re probably just being nice.

And then I remembered the $5,000.

An email I wrote in December — just a regular email, the kind I write every week — moved someone enough that they sent me a $5,000 gift. Out of the blue. Unprompted.

And I was still second-guessing my voice.

Here’s what I want you to hear, whether you’re a farmer, a writer, a person who keeps waiting until they feel ready: the evidence is already there. You are probably already doing the thing. The question isn’t whether you’re good enough. The question is whether you’ll let yourself believe it.

I have a sticky note on my computer now. It says:

“I wrote an email that changed someone’s life enough that they sent me $5,000.”

That’s a fact. Not a fluke. Not politeness. A fact.

I’m here at this beautiful lodge, surrounded by grazing leaders, about to spend three days learning about vision, leadership, stress, and trust. And I walked in tonight wanting to stay small.

I’m choosing not to.

You don’t have to farm alone. And you don’t have to shrink in the rooms you’ve earned your way into either.

More from the lodge tomorrow.

— Leah