As little kids growing up on the farm, we are always taught to stay busy. My dad used to tell us that if it was light outside, we should be outside doing something. Then, as we became adults working on the farm, we were told to have a plan. “Don’t get so caught up in the farm that you forget to focus on the farm,” they would say. Even at the center, a core message of ours is to take time to think through decisions and write out plans to ensure long-term sustainability of your dairy and your family business.
But what if we get so caught up in staying busy, planning and just moving forward day in and day out that we forget to live, and truly enjoy, life in the moment? When my boys were younger, I was juggling working away with daily milkings on the farm. While I loved watching them grow up, I spent much of their childhood running from the barn to the computer to taking them to 4-H and youth sports practices. There wasn’t a lot of time to just play catch in the backyard or jump with them on the trampoline.
I remember, when my youngest son was a toddler, he got in the habit of demanding I would look at him when he was talking. It was not through his words that he would demand my attention, but through his actions. If I was sitting at the computer or working at something where he could reach my face, he would take his hands and pull my face so I was directly looking at him. In a way, he was forcing me to be present in our conversation.
Over time, I realized how important connecting with each of them was, even though we were all too busy, so I began asking them every evening to tell me something exciting that happened about their day. Unfortunately, I didn’t start this until the two older ones were mostly grown up, but a lot of really good conversations with my youngest started with me asking what was exciting about his day. In January, he turned 18 years old and I realized his childhood was ending. Looking back, I wished there would have been more conversations and moments with all three boys that were just “exciting parts of our day.”
That desire to go back and have more time became even more poignant for me earlier this month. This time of year is the most busy for me because it’s when we plan our biggest event for the center. Between trying to get everything ready for that event, along with the day-to-day with work and our farm, I find myself with little time to do anything else. That’s why, when my brother invited me to a get-together in late January to visit with my niece who was home from the military, I didn’t think I had enough time to fit it in.
I did, fortunately, take a couple of hours to go and visit for a little bit with my family. As the one who isn’t on the farm day in and day out, I felt like I needed to go, but I remember being distracted most of the time while I was there. I ate and talked a little bit, but I didn’t really take the time to catch up with anyone. I left without having any meaningful conversations while I was there. Two weeks later, on my way home from wrapping up the work event, I got the call that nobody wants to get – we lost my brother in a senseless accident.
In those days after the accident, I spent a lot of time thinking about my brother and me growing up on the farm. We were just 30 months apart, and a lot of my childhood memories included him. I remember riding horses with him and how he was determined to make the one horse who hated men let him ride him. I remember riding three-wheelers, running through the cornfield, walking our animals and just going on adventures with him. There were plenty of memories of us working together. But most of what I remembered was us just living life in the moment.
I always felt like being raised on a farm taught me early that there is a season for everything, for living and, sadly, for dying. We see our calves buck and play in the sunshine, watch as they go to work in the milking parlor and then have to say goodbye when it’s their time to leave the herd. Sometimes it’s unexpected, and other times we watch them fade. But we get to witness the seasons of life every day we work on the farm.
Unfortunately, though, I think we take for granted how incredibly fortunate we are to be present in each of those seasons as we go through life’s journey. We get busy, overwhelmed and sometimes even frustrated by the things weighing us down. And we don’t stop and take in the sunset, or take that long walk with a friend or just have those meaningful conversations with our kids. A couple of nights ago, my youngest and I spent about 45 minutes just talking about the Beatles songs and which ones he liked. It may not have meant anything to him, but it meant the world to me.
