How I Got My Hives

Growing up, bees were just a normal part of life—like rain in the hills or Sunday evening roast. My dad kept hives in our backyard, and they were as much a part of our daily rhythm as brushing our teeth (which, considering the amount of honey we ate, we probably should’ve done more often).

We didn’t just have honey—we lived honey. A spoonful every morning straight from the comb, my brother’s nightly ritual of bread and honey sandwiches (usually made in the quiet of the night like some sweet-toothed ninja), and my mother’s famous honey-roasted chicken that made guests ask for seconds and thirds.

Bee stings? Barely fazed me. They were just part of the deal. Honestly, I was more scared of my mom’s disapproving look than a sting to the elbow.

One of my clearest memories is my dad building his own bee boxes—clumsily but passionately. I’d watch him measure, saw, and inevitably whack his thumb more than once. He’d mutter something under his breath and shake it off, determined to finish. That’s how the magic happened—handmade hives, homemade honey, and a whole lot of love.

Years later, after I got married and had children of my own, I felt a deep longing for my kids to experience a similar connection to nature and the wonder of bees. But when I looked up the cost of hives and gear, I nearly dropped the phone. “They want how much for a wooden box and a few bees?!”

So, I did what I always do when I’m stuck—I prayed.

And God, in His perfect timing, answered.

A few weeks later, my dear friend and neighbor, Mr. Burgess, called. She had just been gifted 10 hives and two full sets of equipment—but only had space for five. “Would you like the other five?” she asked, casually changing the course of my life.

I nearly shouted yes through the phone. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t consult my husband (oops), and I certainly didn’t think twice.

Later that evening, I told him, “By the way… we’re getting five bee hives.”

He blinked. “Where are we going to put them?”

Now, we live on an acre of land—plenty of space—but I just smiled and said, “We’ll figure it out.”

And figure it out we did. The hives arrived at night—because that’s the safest time to move bees. I was so excited, I ran straight out of the house barefoot to greet them, practically buzzing more than the bees themselves. In all my excitement, I left the front door wide open… with the lights on inside.

Big mistake.

When I came back inside, the house was full of bees. Apparently, bees are drawn to light at night, and I had just thrown them an open invitation to our living room.

To make matters more memorable, I got more stings than I care to remember that night. I learned two things: (1) bees do not appreciate being moved after dark, and (2) excitement makes you forget all your common sense.

We eventually got the bees out (with lots of flapping, squealing, and a healthy dose of prayer), and that chaotic night became Lesson One in my beekeeping journey.

That spontaneous “yes” to five gifted hives has since grown into a full-blown adventure. Today, we care for 70 hives (and counting), and the joy of beekeeping runs deep in our family roots.

That love gave birth to Miss Bee Haven, a brand built on reverence for the hive and all its goodness. Whether it’s our healing Bee-Healed salve with propolis, soothing Bee-Kissed lip balm, or our Bee-Blazing fire cider tonic, each product is handcrafted with purpose—using the treasures our bees share with us: not just honey, but also beeswax and propolis, blended with love, care, and creativity.

And to think—it all began with a prayer, a phone call, five hives in the moonlight… and a house full of bees.

Thanks for joining me on the journey.

Stay tuned for more stories from the hive—where faith, family, and bees continue to shape a life full of sweetness.

With gratitude,

The Beekeeper at Miss Bee Haven