#truth

Yesterday was a new beginning.

No, it wasn't because I received my four slice toaster via UPS yesterday, and this morning felt like the most amazing mom in the world. Look at me!! I'm toasting an Eggo and toast. Simultaneously.

It's the little things, people.

No, yesterday felt like spring. It looked like spring. It smelled like spring. And while I loved seeing all my farmer friends post their beautiful pictures of tractors in the dirt, I didn't have one.

And it stung a little.

We have taken the high road with our new arrangement. It was what was best for our family. Walking away from farming was hard, but seeing it still march on without us is harder.

That's the truth.

Maybe it's because it's right in front of me as I play outside with Jack and the babies. Fields being worked by unknown folks; pastures empty (sans the ONE cow that's STILL there.); grain hauled out of the bin practically in my yard, without any connection to me, except in name.

The truth is, once again, I'm trying to figure out my place in the farming community.

Again.

And the truth is, I feel even more like a phony than I did when I was just a newbie farm wife.

I believe with my whole heart that my kids will continue to be farm kids, having chores and animals and fences to mend. I feel like Joe will continue to make his mark in the agricultural field (no pun intended), whether it's in the dirt or the classroom or a boardroom.

But me? I'm just someone who is stuck between truth and acting.

The truth is, I've always felt this way. I was a city kid stuck in a small town kid's life. A band nerd who played sports. A person who never thought she'd have kids now has a tribe. A curly haired girl armed with a flat iron. A non-farmer who had a voice in a farming world.

The juxtaposition of my life is almost laughable, so I shouldn't be surprised.

The truth is, I finally figured out my voice. I was finally not just talking the talk, but seeing how it was creating opportunities and responsibility in my life, my kids, my husband, that are bigger than just a job.

And then, poof.

Gone.

Like the smoke in the air coming off the ditches being burned, it just evaporated. And might I add...why? Why all the burning? It's everywhere!

So here I sit, getting myself ready for a podcast with my other farmer wives, and all I can think about is how in the world will I form a sentence about planting or calving or lunches in the field without feeling empty? A phony. Stuck in some place where I don't belong.

Again.

The truth is, planting this year is going to be hard. I'll have to watch as another tractor with another family and another little boy sits beside his dad as the crop is put in.

However, this may seem like we're down, but we're not out. It's a gloomy day, right before Easter, Maundy Thursday to be exact, so maybe that's why I'm so glum.

But, like the Easter story, a life can be resurrected. We will overcome these first pangs of weirdness, sadness, and strangeness. I still can have a voice in agriculture, it just might not have all the gory calving details as before, which could ultimately be a good thing.

That's the truth about farming and agriculture. Once it gets in, you're in for good. While you may not be currently driving a tractor or depending on the weather for every aspect of your life, once you've had that experience you get it, and you never forget.

Bear with me as I deal with this first planting season as it passes me by like a parade. I'll be watching, and may have some moments of sadness.

Because sometimes, the truth hurts.