What’s in a Name?
I am sometimes asked about the name “Brush Arbor Farm,” and the story is one I love to tell. I am blessed to come from a rich history of faith that runs deep in my family. My heritage is rooted in a long line of pastors who have faithfully served the local church. One of my favorite memories is attending "Brush Arbor Meetings" with my grandfather, the pastor of a country church out in Royston, GA. At these meetings, evangelists shared powerful stories of our faith, weaving the narrative of scripture with their own testimonies and traditions of the faith. Sandaled feed swinging from the bench, I would look out into the field surrounding the arbor and watch the fireflies as my granddaddy’s deep voice would sing the closing melody of the service: Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. On the way home late at night, we would stop at the local gas station where they hand scooped butter pecan ice cream into a simple cake cone.
My mom was also deeply involved in our church community; she served as the children's pastor at Nations Church - the very church whose parsonage serves as our home and flower farm. One particularly warm summer, she asked men from the church to build a brush arbor on the field behind the parsonage - the very field on which our flowers grow today. On those warm Sunday nights, our little children's ministry would meet under the shade of the arbor, made from branches and vines right from this land. The smell of fresh-cut wood and the sound of children singing “give me that old time religion” still linger in my memory.
These are the moments that shaped my life and gave me roots in the rich soil of our faith.
So much has happened here on this property: it's where Brandon and I met and dated, became Christians, and grew in our faith within this community. Now, as we return to this place that shaped so much of our young lives, we're passionate about enriching it further—both literally by improving the soil and figuratively by cultivating community.
We aim to leave something meaningful for the future generations who will walk these grounds.
As I look out at our land, I'm reminded of why we're here. We're not just growing flowers; we're cultivating a sense of community and connection. I pray our farm is a place where people can come together, find joy in simplicity, and experience moments of peace. I pray it’s where friendships are forged, faith is nurtured, and hearts are lifted—even if through the quiet miracle of a single bloom.
