This. This is the reality myself and countless other farm wives live, breathe, and love every single year without fail. See that light behind the shed? It's not a funky halo for a pole light; that's the lightning of a storm cloud moving in.
My husband, father in law, brother in law, uncle, cousin, and second cousin are working as hard and quickly as possible to get grain unloaded before the rain begins. It's dark. They've been up and at it since before the sun came up. This is not a one time thing. This is everyday life. It's "normal" for about 6 months out of the 12 we are given each year to get the work done. Believe it or not, this is what it looks like to feed the world. The seed they plant is the highest quality to produce the greatest quantity, they add necessary nutrients to the dirt on this earth to increase sustainability for high production, they use the latest technology to ensure they're planting for maximum potential, they pray for rain, and they gamble. They go to church and pray for God's grace because there are years where that's all that gets you through. And then we harvest. They move through quickly and carefully, trying not to take for granted when it goes well, pleading for mercy in the moments when there's nothing left to go wrong. Some years are smooth and you savor each second; other years you have to remind yourself why you'd never want a life other than this.
Then this. It's no longer just farm wives and the guys working... we have a family now. They are "the bread and butter" of what makes this life both amazing and gut-wrenching all in the same breath. They stand back and watch. They want to crawl through the middle of the mud. They ask too many questions and smile the biggest when someone takes a moment between trips from the field to entertain their thoughts. They are the "why" and "how" for just about every question any adult ever asks.
Farmers used to say "poor farmers, poor wages" while everyone else said "rich farmers" because their equipment costs more than their house. Both are right. Commodity prices and input costs prove the poor farmers theory. But the richness. Oh, how rich. Rich in tradition. Rich values. Rich hearts. Rich in love. The richest of all are the next generation to see their Dad work day in and day out toward the biggest dream he's ever had, and it's the same one the generation before him got to witness coming true: there they are. Watching. Waiting. And maybe, if they choose the same dream, wishing to be a part of it all.
