Been many months since I’ve blogged. My muse was swallowed by a new job, a mean former boss and my own willingness to accept these excuses- shame on me!! The muse went on to be chased out by a dream and has morphed and changed into something wonderful. Let me start at the beginning…

When I was 15 -years- old a llama kissed me. I was at a local petting zoo and a llama named Snickers adopted me; even the workers were astounded as Snickers had never shown affection to outsiders before. Sure, he’d sniff them and check them out, but never did he respond to their voices, their presence and give out kisses – or so I was told. Thus began a lifelong mission to one day become a llama farmer. I have said it often in the intervening 33 years since I met Snickers, but I am not convinced I ever truly believed my own words. A pipe dream at best, being a llama farmer was something that happened out west or in the middle part of the country where land was easier to obtain, and I didn’t have the responsibilities of a home, four children a job and life. Then, in a heartbeat that I still cannot quite explain, everything changed.

It started with me leaving my writing job – the only job I had ever held and the only skill I believed I possessed. As stated above the muse was dead. Not just dead, but stomped on, beaten and left on a path with limbs flailing waiting to be trampled again. And worse, my youngest child was now 12 and my oldest 20!!! What was a former writer who had been a stay at home mom for years to do with the remaining – God willing – many, many, many years of her life. I knew it needed to have meaning, I knew it had to matter, but I never entertained the dream as a mean’s to an end.

Friends are great when life has you beaten, especially honest friends who love you. This particular friend was on the phone with me, likely tired of hearing my bemoan about my present situation when with a sigh she launched into me, kindly, “Really, Faith, you keep telling me you are going to be a llama farmer. Sooner or later, the only way you are going to make this happen is to get off your ass and do it!” I was taken aback at first, but then I giggled. She was right. Committed conviction has never been easy for me, and that was what this was going to take. What better time than the present. I leapt with both feet. Within two hours of that conversation, I had emailed all of the local alpaca/llama farmers I could find within a 25 mile radius. They all emailed me back, three with an offer to visit their farms and learn more. I was stunned, shocked even, that these people were out there and willing to share their knowledge and their love of the beasts.

I connected, firmly, with a man named Keith. When I called he said to me, “let me share my story…” he then went on to tell me that he was an alpaca farmer today because the first llama he ever met kissed him. I nearly dropped the phone. Within 24 hours I was on his farm, camera in hand, my daughter in tow and a list of questions too long to ask in one visit.

It was a year ago this week that Keith and I met. I have become a regular at his and his wife Debbie’s farm. I have purchased five alpacas of my own, I have been to an alpaca show, trimmed alpaca toenails, helped with more shearing than I can count and had my own fleece turned into yarn, but yet, it still felt like an impossible dream until the miracle happened. My husband and I tripped over the perfect property right here in our own home town. Granted, we’d had feelers out, but we didn’t really expect anything to happen. In fact, we were so sure nothing would that we spent several thousand dollars updating our home. Part of that update was a small barn to house our five alpacas. We were staying – or so we thought. Life, as it is wont to do, had other plans.

The Realtor called. There was a perfect log cabin with enough space for my growing and changing family and 40 acres of land for a price we could afford. Were we interested? My quick answer? Absolutely NOT!! I just remodeled my home, I’m staying, go away. Then the dream knocked on the door again, and we agreed to tour the property. As luck would have it, this property contained everything we ever wanted and more. Had you put my husband and I into two separate rooms and asked what we needed/wanted in a home, this home fulfilled both of our dreams. Our dreams, though similar, have different needs and the odds of finding both were, we thought, impossible. Again, we were wrong. We signed the purchase and sale in three days. We completed the home inspection, the water inspection, Title V and all of the other paraphenelia that goes with house buying and we were greeted with signatures of approval on every line. The only catch, our former dream house, the one we have lived in and loved and raised our family in, needed to be on the market and sold by April 1. My emotions kicked in. The fear, the guilt. What if this is the wrong decision? What if I am risking too much with four children; two in college, in need of me. What if I am a lousy llama/alpaca farmer? What if we are wrong about the future?

Remember me, the girl with the fear of convicted committment. I was back and so was the fear. And then an angel whispered in my ear. What’s the worst that can happen? Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along? Is your family on board? Have you done everything humanly possible to care for your children, your home, your husband and your dream and still come to the conclusion that this is possible? The answer is yes, and so I have leapt; or more accurately we have leapt together hand in hand has we’ve been for nearly 23 years.

Our home has been on the market for 22 days. We’ve had 13 families through and received a crappy offer that we refused. We’re holding fast to the dream. We believe, if it is meant to be, all will work out, and if not, we will continue forward on the path towards the dream and wait for the perfect place and time – the one that will allow the pipe dream to become reality. You just never know what will be set in motion when you let a llama called Snickers kiss you.