Not all who Wander are Lost -

Branding isn’t just logos, colors, or pretty packaging.

It’s the story behind the person.

Behind the product.

Behind the why.

I live in an extremely small, rural town—one with deep poverty and very limited opportunity. Very rural Ozarks - As much as I wish it were different; my market is a minimum of 200 miles away. Every single thing I build has to push past geography, circumstance, and expectations.

Today didn’t look glamorous.

I renewed a driver’s license that expired back in October—because that’s how full these days are.

I sat in offices, signed paperwork until my hand hurt, and wired money for our next " launch" after what felt like singing my life story at the bank.

But here’s the part that stopped me in my tracks:

The woman who once filed for bankruptcy at 25…

Now has a 789 credit score (and listen—800 is basically walking on water).

Seven consolidated notes.

No more USDA/FSA loans.

A business standing on its own two feet....we are hopeful someday will pay the bills...without a W2 income.

I took the road less traveled.

Left an entire life 800 miles away.

Chose uncertainty over comfort.

And kept going—even when it would’ve been easier not to.

Before the business.
Before the farm.
Before any of this had a name.

In 2009, we moved here — to the very rural Ozarks — with almost nothing. No college degrees came with us. No safety net. Just low wages, uncertainty, and a quiet determination to start over.

I left behind deep dysfunction.
A life tangled with shame, regret, and pain.
Patterns that had existed long before me — and would’ve continued if I hadn’t chosen differently.

Small, impoverished places carry their own weight.
People survive by keeping their guard up.
Trust is rare.
Honesty is complicated.
And shame runs deep — because everyone knows everyone, and leaving the cycle isn’t always celebrated.

Starting over here wasn’t easy.
But staying in what was familiar would’ve cost me everything.

This business didn’t begin as a dream — it began as a decision.
To break a cycle.
To choose stability over chaos.
To build something slowly, honestly, and without pretending it was ever easy.

The farm. The products. The long miles. The paperwork.
They’re all tied to that choice.

This isn’t a “rags to riches” story.
It’s a rags to resolve story.

And if you’re carrying the weight of where you came from while trying to build something better — I see you.

Today was a milestone. Not a flashy one. Not a viral one.

But a real one.

And this—this—is what you’re supporting when you support this small business.

Thank you for being part of a story that’s still being written.

— Sara

There’s another side to this that’s harder to admit.

It’s frustrating to watch trends race ahead — to see others succeed quickly, loudly, and visibly, often without putting in what this path has required of me. It’s hard to be so far out, so rural, so disconnected from high-income areas and still be expected to “keep up” online.

Being seen is hard.
Being heard is harder.
And sometimes, even being found feels impossible.

The internet makes it look like opportunity is everywhere — but when you’re building from a low-income, remote place, you can feel lost in the noise, unsure what the next right step even is.

Our soaps are moving toward mid-level retailers now — slowly, intentionally. Not because we lack ambition, but because we’re building something meant to last. This isn’t trend-driven. It’s foundation-driven.

The slow build looks different.
It doesn’t go viral.
It doesn’t always make sense from the outside.

But it’s steady.
It’s honest.
And it’s ours.