A month ago, I learned from my father’s doctor that Dad has diastolic heart failure.
Dad is 95. Living alone. More than three hours away from me.
The doctor said the safest place for Dad was in assisted living care.
So, in a whirlwind that now seems like a blur, I set up tours at several facilities, asked people for recommendations, and found what we hope will be a wonderful place for Dad.
Everyone we’ve met at the assisted living facility we chose – from the residents to the staff – are so friendly and welcoming.
Still, it was hard to leave Dad in his room there and return home last week.
That move has made me think about Dad’s life. The things that have come and gone, all the variety of things that had changed in his many years of living.
Even though we had to downsize a lot of things in the move, we brought a little bit of the farm with us to his new room at the assisted living facility, and we chose a John Deere theme for his decorations.
You can watch the before and after transformation of his room here if you like.
My dad came from a long line of farmers. In his high school yearbook under the line that asks what he planned to be, he simply listed a farmer.
And it’s what he did.
He and my mother married young, moved away from their families, and worked on a variety of farms and ranches until they saved enough money to buy their own farm.
They lived on that land for fifty-one years.
Daddy worked hard and expected all of us to give our best as well. He was most often up long before the first rays of sunshine would streak the morning sky and could be found out laboring until there was no longer any daylight to work by.
In the summers, if I wanted to spend time with my dad, I went with him to irrigate. I accompanied him many times in his semi-truck when he’d deliver a load of hay (the sleeper in the cab was a perfect place for my baby dolls to ride.) There was a time when all the guys at the parts counter at the John Deere dealer probably knew me by name because I would ride along with dad to go on a parts run. He always bought an icy cold glass bottle of Coca Cola from the vending machine and we’d share it while we waited for his parts order to be filled.
My mother thinks Daddy was one of the few farmers who had a four-year-old in pigtails asleep at his feet on a pink blanket while he swathed hay. I think he was probably one of many who spent time with their kids anyway they could, even if it meant having them underfoot while they swathed, baled, or combined. As I got older, I went from just tagging along to having chores to do, and then taking on more responsibility and work.
My dad didn’t just want to be a farmer, he needed to be a farmer. He loved farming, loved the land and loved his family – and to him they were all intermingled and entwined. Farming was as essential to him as air to breathe, water to drink, and food to eat. It was never a job to him. It was a way of life. His life – and all he ever wanted to do or be.
It didn’t matter if the temperature was 103 degrees or 3 below, he did what needed done to keep the farm going.
In the summer’s, he’d get tired and worn out. Sometimes, I think he would have liked to take a long break, but he never did. He and my mom both used to say, all the time, “rest and go again tomorrow.” That is exactly what they did.
What I learned growing up on a farm, besides how to precisely set irrigation tubes of all sizes, move sprinkler hand lines, and buck hay bales, was responsibility, loyalty, and perseverance. If things aren’t going just like you want, you don’t quit and walk away. My dad taught me that you figure out how to make it work. I learned all about multi-tasking, time management, and organizational skills by watching and working with my dad.
Lessons learned while I was working on the farm are ones you can’t find in a classroom, you can’t glean them from a Google search, and you can’t duplicate them without the experience that goes along with the lessons. Daddy taught me by example. By watching him, day after day, pour his all into what he loved, I learned so many life lessons that have served me well over the years. I’ve had a few people call me tenacious. If I am, it’s because I learned it from my dad.
When I think of Dad and his life, I always think of Paul Harvey’s popular speech So God Made A Farmer.
As Dad enters a new chapter in his life, I’m so grateful that God made him a farmer.
When you graduated from high school,
what did you want to be?