DEAR FARMER

Dear Farmer,

You and I work at opposite ends of the ag industry: I work in Ag Manufacturing, where we build the equipment you use.

My husband works in the Shipping Department. With skilled hands he pressures up hydraulics, torques tires, and fastens safety chains. He marks shipping pins, touches up paint, takes pictures of pieces often claimed through Warranty, and reads the riot act to truck drivers who feel the need for speed. He is proud of his work - and scared of the Warranty Administrator. That's me.

I review the Pre-Delivery Inspection performed by your dealership. I compare it against in-house reports and photographs taken during testing and shipping of your machinery. I approve or deny the claims, based on whether we screwed up or it was damaged in transit.

And then the machinery is delivered to you: the farmer. You walk around a machine worth nearly a half-million dollars and, with eagle eyes, you look for everything from leaking hoses to rust spots and missing decals. Within 6 short weeks, you will know this machine inside out: its capabilities and limits, its quirks and strengths and weaknesses, and why we claim to build the brand that produce the best crops.

What you probably don't know is that, as you become an expert on our machinery, I am learning from you.

I learn about the long hours you put in from the voice mails on my phone and the tired voices of our Service crew. I learn about all the elements beyond your control by following your social media accounts. I learn about the hazards of your job from the news, and I weep when a life is lost on your family's farm. I am continuously learning from you, and continuously praying for you.

I wave to every farmer in the cab of a tractor: whether in the field or on the road. And I pray for your safety and prosperity. I drive past you slowly, and often in tears. I see you.

I listen to news broadcasts and weather forecasts and lunchroom chatter. And I pray for sunshine and rain and wind and snowy winters - but not excessive amounts. I remind God to send just what you need and no more ... like He needs my instruction!

I sign petitions so that family farms do not fall under the same labor laws as other employers. I get righteously indignant at city slickers who think all tragic accidents are avoidable. I smile at teenage boys who rip out of school parking lots because they can't wait to be in a tractor.

I question dealerships about why they didn't repair your machinery in a timely manner. I challenge our QA team to step up their game. I sit in meetings to explain why spending less money in Warranty isn't as easy as saying "No." I deal in shades of gray when it's not really Warranty but it's the right thing to do. And sometimes I say "No" and hold my breath while waiting to see who's going to challenge me: you or your dealership.

I shake your hand when you come to meet with our Executives and talk about how to improve our product. I smile when I see you critique our engineers during an open house event - because you are the true expert in the field. I am so proud when you give us a verbal acknowledgement or a great review on social media! Because you are helping us work toward excellence. You recognize that we're trying hard to be the customer's best choice.

As we move through another seeding season, I would like to thank you for who you are and what you do. Thank you for your patience: with your livestock, the crops, your hired hands, your dealership, and your manufacturers. Thank you for your eye for detail, your nurturing spirit, your common sense approach to life, and your never-say-die character. Thank you for the years of study, the years of experience, and the dedication to the ag lifestyle. Thank you for eating in the field so that your field will feed us.

May you live long and prosper. May your crops keep growing and your equipment keep going. May your family enjoy health and your efforts yield wealth. May the gophers die and the corn stalks stretch high.

God bless you, Farmer.


Sincerely,

A Villager

The Lull

Lull. The very word is soothing, isn't it? And I love its association with stillness or respite. It conjures up an image in my mind of a time of refreshing, like an oasis in the desert.

It has been slow in my workplace this week. I commented to my direct supervisor today that we are either experiencing the proverbial calm before the storm, or I have missed something really big! His words were so reassuring: "It's the calm. Enjoy the lull."

What does this look like in the office? For me, it looks like arriving before the lights have been turned on and brewing the coffee. I pull a stack of coffee filters so it's easy for people to grab one at a time, and spend some time with my Bible while my e-mails load. I invite Jesus to walk through this day with me. Slow, easy starts to days that are steady, but not driving busy.

The busy days are coming. In a matter of weeks, there will be hundreds of registrations and warranty claims demanding my attention. Phones will ring off the hook, meetings will require attendance, and my daily devotional e-mails will be buried under hundreds of messages that may appear more important. I will struggle to find my balance some days. Until then ... enjoy the lull.

Confession: I wrote the above paragraphs a week or so ago. I was going to talk about how life in general was also on pause in my world. I would have told you that my word for 2018, "Refresh," has really summed up the first two months of the year for me. Winter is a season of hibernation, but a season nonetheless; I have found myself in a season of stillness. Sometimes the most refreshing thing we can do is to rest.

Today, though, the lull is over. In speaking to God aloud a couple of weeks ago, I thanked Him for the pause. I recognized my tendency to worry so much about what's coming next that I neglect to enjoy the moment. I apologized, and praised God for the fact that no matter what's coming, I do not face it alone. Then came the storm - both physically and virtually.

We had known the snowstorm was coming. It was a rare weekend where no travel was required, so I took full advantage of the opportunity to spend a whole Saturday in my pajamas with a book. It's easy not to worry about impressions when nobody is moving. A good storm can be anticipated in this part of the country, where you are required to drive for everything except your mail. Snowplows are a commodity reserved for parts further north, so a good storm can halt traffic for days at a time here.

Saturday, though, came and went without a single flake falling. Sunday morning arrived with light drizzle, but salt trucks were already on the highway as I drove to church. By the time I headed home, the commute was a challenge best met by restrained speed and whispered prayers. Still, it was early evening when the skies opened and the house across the street from ours seemingly disappeared.

Internally, I made no connection of how fitting it would be for physical and emotional storms to collide. So it was that I was blindsided. First by the letter in the mailbox, dated an entire year ago. Then by the letter in a social media inbox, advising me to have my Goodbye talk with my dad. Then by the discovery of a social media account under an alias name, belonging to someone who once meant everything to me. It has called me to question everything I thought I knew, and has cast a huge question mark over the future.

I am so grateful for the peace that passes all understanding! I am grateful that no matter what happens in coming days, I do not face this storm alone. Mostly, I am grateful for the lull. There is always a time of rest: a time to gather and restore strength. I will need another one when this time of turbulence has passed; how grateful I am to know that God's vision and His plans for me far exceed my own!

How blessed I am to have spent my time in the hallway, the lull, praising Him! This, too, shall pass. It's just another test becoming a testimony.

In December, We Remember

I know what you're thinking: It's in November we remember. Ah yes, but this is a different kind of remembering.

It was November of 2000 when my husband of 4 years decided our marriage was over. It was December when I decided it was over for the last time. That Christmas and New Year were the worst holiday season of my life. Still, somehow, they were also the best. That was the year I felt the winds of change blow in on angels' wings of strength, and knew life was going to get better.

Fast forward one year: a ring twinkling in the lights of the tree and a man on one knee who wanted to do life with me and all of our children. Together. It was the kind of bravery that bordered on insanity. Suddenly, I wasn't sure which of us was facing the bigger challenge ... but I knew that having each other for support could hardly be a bad idea! So the proposal was accepted, and the adventure began.

So it is that in December, my husband and I remember. We think about where we started, and how far we've come. This year is a very special landmark for us. This year, we celebrate three of our original four hatchlings being grown and flown. It is overwhelming to look at our now-adult children and breathe a sigh of proud relief.

We did it. We took a group of children into the eye of the storm. We stood only with a wing and a prayer, and we staked our claim to a healthy, successful family. Today we stand on our island knowing there can be no rougher seas than we've already sailed together. And it's good. It's all good.

There are a few more landmarks to reach yet. We have one little sailor to raise, and one "man overboard" to get back on deck. But we will. Together. But for this year, we raise our glasses in a toast: we turned out to be a dream team.

Happy New Year, Mr. Wonderful. I would swab that poop deck all over again if it meant I got you as a first mate again. ;-)