This year, the welcoming of December brings a new element of magic as John & I expect our second son next month. In these final weeks, it’s hard not to find myself lost in thought. I’m often asked if I think one of our sons, or any of our future children, will take over the family farm. And truthfully, I don’t know what my children will want to become when they are older, however, I do hope that they will face hardship with the same grit and determination a farmer does. I hope they have the bravery to follow their dreams and the assurance that they can always come home to welcoming arms.
So, what is a farmer? A farmer is first and foremost a caretaker. Biblically speaking, we are stewards of God’s creation. We are responsible for taking care of the animals and the land, with the greatest level of accountability. Being a farmer requires constant sacrifice. You sacrifice finances, sleep, and time while pushing the limits of physical & mental endurance. And while some days are easier than others, there are no days off.
Paul Harvey best illustrated what it means to be a farmer in his speech to the 1978 FFA (Future Farmers of America), when he said …
And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caretaker"
-- so God made a Farmer.
God said, "I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper, then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board"
-- so God made a Farmer.
"I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild; somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies, then tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon -- and mean it"
-- so God made a Farmer.
God said, "I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt, and watch it die, then dry his eyes and say, 'Maybe next year.' I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps; who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, and then pain’n from tractor back, put in another seventy-two hours"
-- so God made a Farmer.
God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds, and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor’s place
-- so God made a Farmer.
God said, "I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark."
It had to be somebody who’d plow deep and straight and not cut corners; somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church; somebody who would bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh, and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says that he wants to spend his life "doing what dad does"
-- so God made a Farmer.
Farming is unlike any other career and the sacrifices that are required present a reward like no other. Farming is legacy oriented. This means we constantly reflect on the sacrifices of our previous generations, with the hope of passing the farm down to the next. It’s constant reflection and analyzation of ways to improve management practices in a way that will regenerate the land for generations to come.
So, whether my children decide to carry on the family farm, or not, I know a little piece of our farm will live on in each one of them. It will live on in the lessons they learn here and the character it builds.
Sincerely,
Mattea VanDerwerken
Central Bridge Farms
