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| My younger sister Kayla asked to write a guest post for Father’s Day. The middle sister of three, she’s the only one of us no longer involved directly in production agriculture. Still, she fondly remembers our upbringing on the farm and the values that our dad instilled. |
If asked to describe my father in one word, the answer would
be simple: “farmer.” Of course he’s a multi-dimensional man who could be
described in many ways, but his title as a farmer is so much more than an
occupation; it’s a title that encompasses his worldview, character and
relationships. In fact, as his daughter, I would be hard-pressed to separate
our relationship from the farm. Nearly all of my memories of our interactions
have been framed by his role as a farmer.
As a young child, I rode along in the tractor and talked his
ear off in an effort to keep him alert. As I grew older, those conversations
continued during milking. He listened to my hopes and dreams and encouraged me
that I could do anything I put my mind to.
Beyond conversation, though, he molded my character most
through his example. In good years, I watched him fill silos, bags and hay mows
to the brim to save for worse times. During
downtimes, I learned about the trials of running a business, but also learned
to stay the course and trust in God. He taught us to ‘make hay when the sun
shines’ and to embrace rainy days to catch up on sleep. Even after eighty hour
work weeks, he could always make time to pull a stranger out of the ditch or
plow a neighbor’s driveway.
Life on the farm wasn’t always smooth. I’ll be the first to
admit that I often resented the work. When my siblings and I made mistakes,
oftentimes the lines were blurred between employees being reprimanded and
children being disciplined. Although Dad was a hard task-master, he also showed
compassion against the backdrop of the farm. I vividly recall running off to
the pig pen to cry after being scolded for some petty offense. As we watched
the young piglets rooting through fresh straw, he apologized for hurting my
feelings showed me mercy.
By modern standards, Dad was (and is) a workaholic. He was such
a perfectionist that it pained him to allow hired-help to run things while he
was away. A family vacation was usually followed by a drop in milk production.
Watching us show animals at the county fair meant leaving dry hay lay in the
field. Honestly, it was understandable that he didn’t want to entrust his farm
to anyone else. Yet if it was for his children, he made the sacrifice.
As I’ve grown to be an adult myself with a career and two
young kids to feed, those nostalgic memories have grown into deep respect. I am
grateful that I have an on-going connection with my farmer dad, through which I
can better understand the many complexities that play into the decisions and
techniques that are used on farms. I have grown even more proud of the
responsibility he shows through how he cares for his animals and land. And I am
immensely grateful that my two kids get to be there regularly to be part of
that same upbringing.
