Buffalo in the Storm

by Megan Bruhn

This past month has been one of those seasons where God reminds me that His timing is perfect, His doors are intentional, and His “yes” often looks different than ours.

A Door I Didn’t Expect — and One I Chose Not to Walk Through

Last month, I had the opportunity to speak with a large ministry whose heart and mission align beautifully with what we’re doing here. We’re so excited to see what unfolds in the coming days and weeks. It feels like a divine connection, and I’m holding it with open hands.

Around the same time, something unexpected happened: Shark Tank reached out and chose us to move forward in their process.

It was thrilling and surreal, honestly. But as the days unfolded, something in me began to shift. I started losing my spark and feeling anxious. I couldn’t rest. I would fall asleep practicing my lines and wake up doing the same, running numbers in my head before the sun was even up. It consumed me. I walked around the house whispering different ways to tell our story, rehearsing over and over. At one point my husband looked at me and said, “Will you please stop talking to yourself? It’s creeping me out,” which made me laugh, but inside I felt panicky.

I felt this pressure to convince someone that our land and these trees were special, and that alone felt deeply inauthentic. I don’t like leading with numbers. I don’t want to ever build this on performance. I want the product, the experience, and the presence of God in it to speak first. I believe with my whole heart that our story will resonate with the people it is meant to reach. I already have the best Investor possible.

But I struggled at first, because I thought, “If God opened this door, isn’t it my job to show up and give it everything?” I could almost see myself from above, running around buying clothes for the audition video, preparing lines, filming take after take. And I imagined God watching me with a gentle smile, thinking, “Daughter, when will you slow down enough to hear My voice?”

That’s when it finally settled in my spirit: Not every door God opens is meant to be walked through. Some are meant to test your discernment, not your ambition.

It reminded me of David when he had the chance to take Saul’s life in the cave. The opportunity was right there — wide open — but the Spirit whispered, “This is not the way.” David chose restraint over advancement. Obedience over opportunity.

That’s how this felt.

So I wrote back and declined. They were gracious and told me they’d reach out again next season.

But the truth is… this story is sacred. This land is sacred. This oil is sacred. And I don’t want Hollywood shaping the narrative God is writing.

I want time to learn the land. To understand the trees. To honor their seasons. To steward this calling slowly and faithfully.

We’re also in the process of trying to purchase a mill from Italy, a dream that feels both exhilarating and humbling, and I don’t want to get ahead of what God is building.

The Stories That Keep Me Going

In the midst of all this, your stories continue to be the wind in my sails.

A woman who was grieving, someone I found on Instagram, received a bottle of oil I felt led to send her. She messaged me saying she couldn't stop crying after she opened it. She had been so lonely, but that day she felt seen by God.

Another customer used the oil on her animal’s tumor, and it disappeared.

Someone else flew for the first time in three decades without a panic attack.

These testimonies are what carry me through the waiting seasons. They remind me that this isn’t a business, it’s a ministry. And God is moving through these ancient trees in ways I never expected.

A New Name for a New Season

This month, my trademark was unexpectedly declined after months of going back and forth. At first it felt like a setback, but then I realized it was a redirect.

I’m returning to a name I loved from the beginning:

The Remnant

In Scripture, the remnant is the portion God preserves, the part that survives the fire, the pruning, the exile, the storm. It is the faithful few. The ones set apart. The ones who carry the promise forward.

These trees are exactly that. They are the last plantings of their kind. A living remnant of an era long gone.

And the story gets even richer.

I recently discovered that the man who planted these trees in the 1880s was a relative of General Nathanael Greene, second in command to George Washington. He was a naval man, and he named this land Vernon Park in honor of Admiral Edward Vernon — the same man whose name inspired George Washington’s Mount Vernon.

So we are embracing the heritage:

Vernon Park Estates

and

The Remnant

Names rooted in history, faith, and preservation.

Looking Ahead

We’re preparing for a big surge this year and are already getting ready for our October harvest. We’re also exploring a loan to begin building a shop to keep it all, a place where we can press, pour, pray, and welcome you into the story more deeply.

Our home is still under construction, so life feels like a rotation of fires and priorities, but God is in all of it. He’s teaching us to move like the buffalo: straight into the storm, so we can get through it faster.

Thank you for being part of this journey. Thank you for your prayers, your stories, your encouragement, and your belief in what God is doing here.

We are just getting started, and I’m honored to walk this path with you.

With gratitude and expectation,

Megan

The Remnant by Vernon Park Estates