I’ve been to the same coffee shop at the same time for the past two weeks. Both times, the espresso machine has been broken. Apparently it works fine every other day of the week, but the one day that I have set aside to pay a babysitter to come watch my kids for a few hours so I can sneak out and write this blog it fails to produce the strong, rich java that fuels my mind. Last week I was so depressed by the news that I had a large cookie and followed it up with a cupcake to fill the void. I’ve been guilty more than once of stress eating, hence my newfound love of all things elastic. Of course, when your full time job is to cook, clean, rear the young, and you only have to leave a few days a week to teach dōTERRA classes, wardrobe isn’t exactly top on the priority list. Today I have chosen peach pie gelato and a variation of the salted carmel latte I had been dreaming of all morning while the children fought each other and I fought the clock to get lunch ready for the men in the field. The struggle is real.
I am an entrepreneur. This is the first time I’ve addressed myself formally in that manner. It looks strange to see it in print, and yet more satisfying than I could have imagined. What’s even more astounding is the realization that I spent 14 years teaching the most amazing students only to realize that I don’t know why I chose to enter the education field. I suppose the summers off had its draw, as did the frequent breaks throughout the school year. But when I really consider why I chose education, I have to admit that it was simply because it made sense considering everyone in my husband’s family was an educator and the women in my family were either homemakers or had worked and then decided to stay home. When my husband told me that he wouldn’t marry me unless I finished school, I had to get serious about choosing a major. Education made sense. If I had to work, I wanted to work with kids. If I had to work, I wanted a job that was supportive of being a mom. If I had to work, I wanted as much time off as possible. I should have known then that I was destined to work from home.
Four years ago, dōTERRA entered my life via a friend from high school. My son had colic and I was exhausted from nursing, bouncing on yoga balls, and bouncing and swaying. I posted on social media daily, begging for any advice that I could get on how to calm my miracle boy who I was on the verge of despising every time his face puckered when I pulled him from my breast to use the restroom or get food. It was exhausting emotionally and physically. My friend messaged me about using dōTERRA essential oils and I vehemently disregarded her suggestion. I’d done the essential oil thing and it had caused me to have contractions while pregnant. Clearly, essential oils weren’t safe. My husband and I traded off with the rocking, swaying, bouncing, snuggling, walking, driving, and forcing gripe water down him while he screamed. One afternoon I’d had enough and did what I knew to do—called my mom. She suggested that she could go to the class my friend was teaching on how to use essential oils and see if there was anything that might help. Defeated and beyond overwhelmed, I agreed to hear mom out once she’d attended the class. Within two weeks she showed up at my house with a box of oils and 10 pages of information. I read the notes, grabbed the suggested oil, diluted it properly, and proceeded to apply it to his tummy while I rolled my eyes and secretly prayed God would allow this to work. It did.
What surprised me more than the effectiveness of the oils was the amount of comments that started popping up on my posts when I would try something and it would work. I had enrolled to use the oils and made it very clear I was not looking to build a business. God had other plans. I had a few classes and grew in my business without meaning to. Quite soon, I was earning enough to pay for my oils. Within a year I was earning enough to pay for my oils and had a few hundred left over. Within two years I was earning supplemental` income. Now, four years, three kids, and a lot of personal development later, I earn enough that it has completely replaced my income from a job that I held for fourteen years, earned a Masters Degree and eight hours towards a Doctorate for, and I am home with my babies daily. It has been the most rewarding experience of career. Can you imagine the joy when my husband looked at me and said, “You can turn in your letter.”? I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew it wouldn’t come without growing pains—all good businesses have them. I knew I wasn’t going to suddenly have everyone’s approval. But what I did know was that God had a plan. That plan was for me to be home with my kids and share oils with people like me and people who were the complete opposite of me. I’ve learned more in the past six months than I ever did in college.
I am not a business woman. I’m a mom. That’s what I told myself. I can’t quit teaching and sell oils. That’s crazy. I don’t have a business background. Compensation plans and placements are a mystery to me. I felt like I needed a sidekick. In my mind, I would do the teaching and listen to people tell me their stories while I assessed the oils that might bring them relief and alternative options to consider. I’ve always been great at that. I like to listen to people, fix problems, and thrive on the success of others. Imagine my shock when I suddenly advanced in this business to the point that I became the leader. Rather than reading Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, I began reading Lead the Field, Beach Money, Being a Starfish, among dozens of other books designed to help small businesses thrive. I spent hours watching webinars to learn compensation plans and placement strategies and how to retain customers through targeted interaction. And. I. Liked. It. That was the game changer. Suddenly, business wasn’t so scary. It was introspective—which happens to be my number one strength. There is no doubt I have a long way to go, but I get to travel the journey while raising my children at home, fixing lunch to take to my husband and his family while they farm.
Every day I get to see my son light up when I drop him off to ride with Daddy in the combine any day of the week at any time that is convenient. I no longer have to worry about getting the kids up at any particular time regardless of how late we were up the night before. I get to focus on them instead of my makeup and wardrobe and grading papers. My life is not a dream come true. I couldn’t have dreamed this kind of life. Each day I spend time watching people’s lives transform from their use of essential oils while I am snuggled in the big chair reading stories to my kids or rocking them because they want a snuggle. My dream was no where near this amazing. Don’t get me wrong. I have frustrating days. I have days when I want to run screaming because the children are possessed by some kind of outside force working against everything I am trying to accomplish. There are moments when I question whether I made the right decision, and then I catch a smile or little arms wrap around my legs. I melt. Every time. My life is not my own. It belongs to three little souls that God entrusted to me and my husband. It belongs to God. I wouldn’t want it any other way.