Looking For the Sky

 There’s a story in The Recovering Farmer about a hidden rock in the road, one that created significant issues. But as it turned out, that rock also saved us from something much worse. I won’t give away the full story here (you’ll have to read the book for that), but it left me with a lesson I didn’t expect. Sometimes what trips us up is actually what protects us.

Life, whether on the farm or beyond, has a way of placing those unexpected rocks in our path. Everyone has them. Some are small stumbles. Others feel like full-scale disasters. And in the moment, when you’re flat on your back or face-first in the mud, it’s hard to see anything beyond failure, loss, or frustration. And sometimes, it takes a much bigger loss before we can see anything clearly at all.

There’s an old saying: When the barn burns down, you can see the sky. When I first heard that, I questioned it. But I’ve come to understand it in the same way as that hidden rock. Some experiences don’t just trip us up, they remove what we thought was solid ground entirely. And when that happens, it doesn’t feel right. It feels like loss. Only later do we sometimes realize that both the rock and the fire were forcing us to see things differently.

Setbacks land in more than one way. Physically, there’s exhaustion, tension in the shoulders, that gut-punch feeling when nothing goes right. Mentally, it’s heavier still. Doubt creeps in. You replay every wrong turn. You start wondering if you’ll ever get up again, or if it’s even worth trying.

No one is immune to this. Most people I’ve met have their stories about such experiences. I’ve been there more times than I care to count. Farming, finances, family, mental health, life has knocked me down in ways I never saw coming. And in those moments, it felt impossible to believe that anything meaningful could come from the mess.

I’ve also heard the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’ve never fully agreed with that. Sometimes what doesn’t kill you just leaves you tired, shaken, or questioning everything. Because not every struggle makes us stronger. Some simply change us. But strength isn’t about never failing. It’s about finding a way to stand again, even when you’re not the same as before.

Recently I found myself reflecting again on what recovery really looks like. I keep referring to my life as a journey. And if I’m honest, I still question it at times. I still wonder whether I’m making progress, or whether what I’m doing truly makes a difference.

I’ve come to understand something that I wrote about in my book. Had it not been for my life experiences as a farmer, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing today. Had I not experienced the challenges, struggled with addiction, or found myself in a world of anxiety and depression, I couldn’t do this work. Understanding that is one thing. Accepting it is another.

But the more I sit with it, the more I see it for what it is. I have stood in the ashes. And I’ve also seen the sky again. From that place, I am rebuilding, slowly and imperfectly. Every fall I’ve taken has shaped me in ways I didn’t expect. They’ve pushed me towards growth, towards understanding, and towards who I am today. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.

Because in many ways, we don’t just experience one rock or one fire. Life has a way of repeating these moments in different forms. And each one asks something of us, sometimes patience, sometimes help, sometimes simply the willingness to keep going when we don’t feel ready.

And maybe that’s the real lesson: the things that stop us aren’t always the end of the road. Sometimes they are the reason we finally see it differently.

If you’re feeling like you’ve hit the ground hard, I won’t offer a quick fix or empty reassurance. Getting up takes time. Sometimes it takes help. But I can tell you this, being down is not the same as being done.

So take a breath. Look around. And when you’re ready, start looking for the sky. Remember, sometimes the only way to see the sky is to lose what was blocking the view.