Building Strong Children

It's been a bad week, huh?

We'll never understand the reason behind Sunday night's tragedy in Law Vegas, and frankly I wondered if I even had anything to write about this morning. Sunday night has left me sad, uninspired and wanting terribly to just be with my family in our living room. 

Then I saw someone on Facebook share a video showing exactly what the shooter's hotel room looked like when he opened fire. It was a virtual tour of the setting he was in when he made a horrific decision. 
I don't want to see that. 
I don't want to be in his element. 
I don't want to hear about his life, his buying history or his girlfriend. 
I don't want to know anymore about him. 
He was a terribly broken human being. 

I want to think about moving forward. 

This quote has been on my mind all week. 
(As I write this, it's only Tuesday. Jesus, take the wheel.)

"It is easier to build strong children 
than to repair broken men." 

- Frederick Douglass

So starting now, 

lets focus on building strong children. 

This means setting an example in how you treat other people, whether that be at the school pick-up line, on the sports field, at home or in a restaurant. 
This means setting an example in how you use your words to encourage, discipline or guide.
This means setting an example in how you honor your spouse, your parents and others that you consider family. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of yourself; your body, your mind and your faith. 
This means setting an example in how you take care of things around you, leaving things better than how you found them. 
This means setting an example in how you make choices, taking into account the the things that matter, against the ones that don't. 
This means setting an example in how you determine and honor your priorities. 
This means setting an example in how you spend your "free" time. 
This means setting an example in how you value your daily work. 

Who knows? Maybe it won't be only children you influence by living well. Those around you may begin to emulate your example, one by one, building a character of integrity in a world that desperately needs it. 

People on this earth are broken, some certainly more so than others. Let's commit today to do everything in our power to grow a population that values one another. By being kind, extending grace and loving one another, let's show the rest of the world that we value human life. 

Even when it brings us to our knees. 

What We Can All Learn From Ken Bone

All I wanted was to fold our towels and washcloths alone upstairs in our bedroom, put them away in the bathroom, and avoid any heated argument. 

It didn't work. 

My plan to avoid the presidential debate was foiled when I carried the full load of clean towels downstairs and across the living room. 

I stopped briefly to check on Cody and Caroline in the recliner and turned to face the television just in time to hear Anderson Cooper introduce Ken Bone. 

What a name, I thought to myself. 

If you recognize the name Ken Bone you likely watched the debate, also. 

If you recognize this face you have likely watched television in the last two days. 

I don't know too much about this guy other than he captivated the country by bringing a fresh face and a red sweater to a vicious conversation between two enemies. It's as though the world stopped spinning and the dust settled a bit when that white tie and mustache took center stage. 

He is the first guy I've ever seen wear a white tie with no plans of getting married in less than an hour. 

I do know - while studying him in the media briefly in over the last 48 hours - that we can all learn a thing or three from the one and only Ken Bone. 

1. Flexibility pays off greatly in the long run

I'm actually not talking about running, at all. 

Ken made a split (pun so intended) decision to address a major issue and it ended up in his favor. He packed a lovely olive suit but had to wear a second string red sweater because of a last-minute catastrophe. His ability to evaluate a situation and act differently than planned put this guy on the map. It made him the absolute highlight of a nationally broadcasted train wreck. 

If you could just accept the fact that your plan may not be perfectly working out, what kind of reward might be waiting for you in the end?

2. Live in the Moment

This idea can be transformed into such a cliche, but Ken Bone can not. 

This is actual footage of Ken in a moment in time where he seized an opportunity. 

With a disposable camera. 

Like, the kind made of plastic and paper that comes in a foil wrapper. 

From a gas station. 

But because Ken had the 

1) confidence to wander aimlessly and alone around a set and 

2) determination to get a good shot and 

3) ingenuity to bring a disposal camera to a debate where cellular devices were banned 

he now has a keepsake photo (or 32) to commemorate the worst election in the history of our country and the night he broke the internet. You all know I believe in the power of film cameras. Seeing Ken take these photos sure brought a smile (giggle) to my face. 

When the credits roll, is your family going to have any record of the days you really lived, or will they all be one your cell phone or hard drive?

3. Be Unapologetically You

This is the most important thing we can learn from Ken Bone. 

Interview - after interview - after interview:

Ken doesn't apologize for his awkward last minute outfit change.

Ken doesn't hesitate to mention his beloved family (he mentions his grandfather, his grandmother and his mother). 

Ken doesn't pretend to abandon his real life responsibilities because every news channel in America came knocking. 

Ken remains solid, true to himself, confident and quirky as all get out. 

And I absolutely adore that about this stranger. 

In Caroline's nursery hangs this sign that I read every single day (or, night). It's not something my parents every said to me, but it is certainly something they taught me. They instilled this strong desire to never lose my unique, personal identity. This is the exact reason why I didn't over-pluck my eyebrows down to pencil thin lines like 73% of gals, ages 14 - 22, did in 2001.

In this entire world - this entire history - this entire galaxy:

God created only one you. 

Why (Why? Why? Why?) would you ever want to be like someone else?

Nothing about you is accidental. 

And no one in this entire world has the amazing ability to be you.

Be Unapologetically you.  

I could have folded laundry Sunday night in our living room with the two snooze buckets in the recliner but I wanted to remove myself from any negativity that may lie ahead. Instead, I walked in on a perfect life lesson from some guy I'll never have the opportunity to meet. 

One thing is certain: I'll take some random guy in a red sweater who loves his grandma blowing up my media feed any day over politics.

The world needs more Ken Bone. 

Eighteen and Know It All

My employer awards scholarships to Indiana and Ohio high school seniors in our trade area who plan to study agriculture in college.

Before I go any further – the submission deadline has passed.

Part of my role within the company is to compile these applications and prepare them for review by our Youth Development Committee. My contact information is on the application, making me three things: susceptible to a constantly exceeded inbox volume, available to confirm last-minute receipt of applications (23 arrived on the deadline...been there, done that) and also be on the line to answer any questions.

Annually we hear from some of the most promising kids in the future of agriculture. It’s always an encouraging experience, seeing how many seniors have a desire to enter the agriculture field, in any capacity. Vet school, economics, communications, marketing, equine therapy, the list of ways students want to pursue agriculture goes on and on.

Annually I also receive a lot of phone calls.

Did you get my application?

Did page 4 come through?

Does my transcript need to be sealed?

Can I hand deliver?

Do you still have a fax machine?

Can you read my son’s handwriting?

And more.

But the question I get every year that really grabs my attention usually comes from a parent. Even more so often from a Mom. On the telephone. It’s typically a question, then a hurried explanation, followed usually by a sigh of relief.

The question/explanation/sigh of relief usually goes something like this:

"Does Jean (name replaced to protect the innocent and overwhelmed) need to declare a major to submit this application? Because she knows she wants to go into agriculture but she isn’t sure exactly what field. And she isn’t event quite sure what university she will end up at. She is still waiting to hear from one more before she makes a decision and it’s hard to declare a major when you don’t know for certain where you’re going to study. She could end up in Indiana, Illinois or Oklahoma – and each offer something different. It’s just a lot to be so sure of right now for this scholarship…"

OK.

Everyone needs to take a deep breath.

I reassure the parent that if the student lists an ag major, they can fully explain their intentions on page 4 of the application.

What I really want to do is reassure them 

that their kid won’t be discounted 

because they don’t have their life figured out 

at 18 years old.

Life figured out at 18 years old?

What does that even look like?

Eighteen years old.

Just enough exposure to curriculum and hobbies that a kid is supposed to draw in pen – or size 12 font - the path for the rest of their life.

The truth is that a large percentage of students who declare a major when entering a college or university will eventually change it to better suit their passions and developed interests by the time they graduate. Me, for instance. I started at Purdue in astronautical engineering and graduated in agriculture communications. And if you'll buy that, I'll throw the golden gate in free. 

So, you college bound students, drowning in fillable PDFs and watermarked transcripts and checking the mailbox everyday for some type of acceptance. And you, students who would much rather pursue a hands-on trade rather than spend another minute in a classroom (Your path is just as important as someone going to a 4-year college. Sometimes we don’t need another lawyer. Sometimes this world needs a talented contractor or welder who will return a phone call):

Whether college bound or bound to build/repair/create something with your hands: You need not have your life plans chiseled in stone right now. What do you really need to know at eighteen years old?

How to get out of bed without hitting the snooze button

This is serious.

You’re in your prime (though these are not the best years of your life, trust me)! When that alarm goes off, your boots (figuratively speaking) should be on the ground within 30 seconds. This is how you learn to manage your own schedule and your own time. This is how you learn to make it to your 7:30 lab without your mother busting through your bedroom door yelling that you’re about to miss the bus. Seize the day and the save the snooze for later in life. Like when you’re 31.

How to work for someone else and follow his or her instructions

This is even more serious.

You will never reach your goals if you cannot learn to take instruction. This does not mean that you’re destined to work for someone else your entire life. This means that the ability to follow written or verbal instructions will serve you well when you’re filling out your first job application out of college. It will serve you even better when you’re responsible for pouring decorative concrete at a building destined to bring back the heart of an old American town. This means that your ability to actively engage as part a team will give you an edge when trying to figure out an employee or procedural issue at work. This means that when you learn to respect someone enough to follow their lead knowing that it’s for a greater good, you’ll gain the respect of those around you at the work place, too.

You are enough

This is the most serious of them all.

Maybe you don’t have your major declared, maybe you do.

Maybe you haven’t yet met someone and thought, “They have my dream job”, maybe you have.

Maybe you haven’t determined your living situation for the next six months.

Maybe you’ve already committed to a school or program for the year ahead and you’re already having second thoughts on being that far from home.

Wherever you are on this path to life after high school: you are enough. Where you are right now is enough.

Be confident in all that you are and all that you are yet to be. Is your life’s path written in contractor pencil rather than fine point Sharpie? That’s on purpose. 

God’s plan for your life far exceeds 

anything you can imagine right now!

And while it’s very good for you to have a roadmap of which you’d like to move forward, as a senior in high school don’t let your heart be discouraged because you can’t declare your dream job and describe it on paper. Some forty year olds haven’t even made it that far, yet. Don’t ever discount your 18-year-old self for still exploring all that may lie ahead. Move forward, learn more, get experience under your belt. 

Do you think Columbus discovered America because he had a map?

That was a bad example.

Here. Read this and save it for all the career fairs in your future for which you’ll get a fresh haircut.

As a senior about to graduate you should know three things:

1. How to get out of bed without hitting the snooze button
2. How to work for someone else and follow his or her instructions
3. You are enough 

You have a lot of choices ahead (choices to do the right thing, go the right place, spend time with the right people, and more) and I trust you’ll make the right ones. Your parents haven’t killed you up until this point: make them glad they didn’t!

 And to the stressed out parents calling me freaking out about the internet connection or the kid's indecisiveness to choose a career path: Take a deep breath. This too shall pass. 

Unless you're the parent of the kid who wrote in his application that he's the oldest of eight children. You have every right to be a little edgy with the gal accepting scholarship applications. 

A Rhetorical Question

I don't remember most of the day, but I remember the moments leading up to the impact like it was yesterday. 

It had been a particularly rough morning. 
I had screwed up a major detail of an event, only to learn about it during the final run through. 
I left my cell phone at said final run through, across the county from my office. 
I had forgotten, again, to pick up new eye glasses in another small town 15 miles away and my head was feeling it. 
That afternoon I decided to pick up my eyeglasses and go back to the event site and find my phone....in an Answer Plot field. Feeling immense stress and frustration, I called out to God while driving down a state highway:

"God! What else could possibly go wrong today?"

It was a rhetorical question, but I guess maybe God felt obligated to answer to prove a point.

It was only seconds later that I saw the black Jeep come up over the perpendicular hill - quickly. 
The driver never hit the brakes, only me. 
Fannie the Focus, rest her soul, did two full spins, went over on two wheels, nearly flipping, and landed in a ditch within someone's yard. 
I was taken to the hospital because I didn't feel so hot after the ordeal, but walked away completely fine. Not a scratch. 
But with a lesson wrapped around my wrist:
Full name
Age
Date in which I arrived in the ER: 08/08/2012
A reminder I've never forgotten:

When you ask God a question, be prepared for an answer.  

I swore I'd never ask him that question again. 
Sometimes my memory slips.

I have a friend from college that I've kept in touch with since our Purdue days. 
One of those people that deserves the very best and is living boldly in order to find it. 
Every time I meet someone eligible, I size them up by his standards, wondering if I could introduce the two. I have yet succeed. 

Anyhow, he sent me an email a while back saying he'd finally met someone (I heard angels sing at my desk) worth talking about. His words were brief and only somewhat descriptive, using far fewer adjectives than I prefer. I mean....he didn't even mention her color hair. But I do know a bigger detail about her: she is ill. Weekly-treatments, ill. This detail doesn't change his feelings towards her or the anticipation of their future together. This relationship, as it turns out, is an affair of the heart, not the worrying mind. 

Over dinner one night I told Cody about my friend's exciting news and now difficult situation. "Can you believe it? He finally finds someone to capture his attention and now this? Why him? Why her illness, now? How much can one guy take?" 

Cody didn't really answer the question, he only agreed. 

It was a rhetorical question, but I guess maybe God felt obligated to answer to prove a point.

That same friend texted me last week to let me know he was heading west - homebound - last minute. His dad found a lump and they learned that it might not be the "no big deal" as previously thought. I got the text while outside with Cody and read the text aloud. I knew better than to ask God any questions. I didn't care to learn anymore punch-in-the-gut answers.

This friend, however, is handling it all with grace and patience; both things he doesn't seem to have when McDonald's gets his drive-thru order wrong. He has never asked what more God could throw his way, not because he doesn't want to know, but rather because he already knows things could be worse and today he's climbing life's mountains one at a time. 

God sure as an interesting way of answering questions. Sometimes with Yes, sometimes with No, often Not yet or maybe even I have something different in mind. I think He continues to answer this friend with: You're not going to believe this...

This story is not told to discourage you from asking God questions in fear of what He will reveal. I think God loves it when we have those conversations with Him. My thought is that part of living an enriched life is accepting those answers - no matter how pleasant or tough - as part of the journey. Part of your life's story. 

Personally, I wish I was better at this. Sometimes when I ask God if He can show me where I need to be in my life, I have a real concern that He is going to physically move me to where I'm going to do my best work for Him. Without a chance to pack. Or do the dishes in the sink I've put off for two days. So I never ask the question out loud; I whisper it in my head. As I type this, I realize: I'm a real mess. 

Of course, asking, "What more can God possibly throw my way?" may just sound like a challenge and expedite the process...

Have faith in this. 

I'll close with a few words from my strong, optimistic friend, hoping that his experience will encourage you today, no matter how your life's story is unfolding minute by minute, day by day, year by year:

Life is full of uncertainties 

but what we can do is 

focus on living the best life 

that we can today.

Inspiring more than he knows, that friend. 

The Trapper Keeper Marriage

It’s funny the things you learn about a person after you’ve married them.

Super funny.
So funny that Cody nor I were laughing last night as we discussed the coon trapping binge I’ve been on for a few weeks.

Let me back up.

We’ve had unwelcome visitors in our feed room recently. 

They trespass.

They dig.

They rip.

They self-serve.

They have destroyed several perfectly good bags of feed.

After consulting strangers, friends and relatives regarding bait,  I set the trap and anxiously (weird, I know) awaited results. I’ve gotten into the routine of going to the barn first thing in the morning to check the live trap. I report back to Cody our hits or misses.

For as successful as we’ve been (we’ve been feeding a small nocturnal army for some time, apparently), Cody just doesn’t seem to get the same satisfaction that I do when there is another free loader caged in our feed room.

The most I've used the garden rake all summer. 

The first raccoon was caught when Cody was out of town and I enlisted my Dad’s help in disposal.  

Fast and Easy.

The second raccoon was caught when Cody was home we had a debate on how dispose of it.

“What’s your deal with not wanting to shoot this coon?!” I feverishly asked him one morning.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve gotten soft hearted with age. I used to hunt all the time in Kansas. I loved it,” Cody responded.

I fastened a necklace around my neck and packed up my laptop.

“Whatever. I’ll take care of it when I get home. Don’t even mess with it. It’s a rodent. A thief  And it’s eating our cattle feed. I’ll kill him, no problem.”

Cody poured my coffee into an insulated mug.

Slow and steady.

Calculated.

Calm.
I strangely wished I could be more like him. 

Meanwhile, I was rushing through the house like a tornado in heels.

“Geeeezo preezo (a coined Cody Sankey phrase). I had no idea that I had married a cold blooded killer.”

I lost it.

“Well I had no idea I married a woman!”

We both laughed.

And said our PS Prayers. Much needed.

Cody confirmed that he’d get rid of of the coon before I got home that night.

And he did.

Two nights later I walked out to the barn in the pouring rain to set the trap again. Cody advised against it. I, however, was on a roll. I followed Uncle Hal’s advice and used sardines.

We caught another one.

A huge one.

Cody was less thrilled than I.

With little discussion, he told me he’d again take care of it.

Fast forward to yesterday.

That is when I gathered bait to catch creeper number four and Cody remarked that we should give the trapping a rest until we knew we still had an issue.

In return, I gave him a quick – but passionate - synopsis of the value in being proactive rather than reactive.

In one ear, out the other.

Marriage.

“I just don’t like the look they give me when they're in the cage,” he said.

“Like…..just put the bullet in their head. I promise they’ll close their eyes.”

He didn’t say much. I felt kind of mean, raw.

“Did you shoot the last one? I didn’t see your gun out,” I asked.

Game changing question.

I could tell by the look on Cody’s face that he wanted to tell me something but he was afraid to do so. 

It was the exact same look he gave me when he reveled that he forgot to bring home The Show Malbec wine during his last trek to Michigan.

“Cody. Did you shoot the last raccoon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cody. Did you shoot the last raccoon?”

“Why does this matter?”

At this point I didn’t know if I was dealing with Cody Sankey or Rachel Dolezal.

“Cody. Did you shoot the last raccoon?”

“I got rid of him. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is it dead?”

“He took a ride and a fall.”

I was furious.

I took off my earrings and stomped upstairs. He stood at the base of the steps and called up, asking why I was so upset about disposal of a stupid raccoon.

“Because! I worked hard to catch them and you apparently load them in the bed of your truck and take them on a joy ride. Then give them a head pat. And a scratch behind the ears. Then turn them loose!” I yelled down. I could almost see him smiling at the base of the steps.

No bueno.

“No offense, (I took offense as soon as he said that) but all you really did was grease the cage and throw some salty fish in it. The cage did all the work.”

I didn’t know if I should laugh at his joke or ring his neck. I decided to put on barn clothes instead.

I responded with Silence.

That’s powerful.

After my blood pressure leveled out and Cody got done with a customer phone call I gently – this took effort – asked him where the raccoon was? Did he drown it? Shoot it? Throw it off of a bridge? Tie fireworks to his back? Hang it from a tree?

I strangely had to know.

This is where I stopped dead in my boots and thought maybe I should listen to his reasoning.

“Linds, I am not kidding when I say that the raccoon gave me puppy dog eyes when I went out to shoot it.”

This.

Right here.

This is when I asked myself: Who did I marry?
The Cody at the alter was gravel voiced and calloused and rugged and hardy.

Two years later he’s standing in the kitchen telling me about a heart-to-heart he had with a dirty raccoon.

“It like scooted back in it’s cage and stared at me. And I knew I wouldn’t feel good about shooting it. So I loaded it up, told it not to come back to Wayne County and drove it across two county lines and dumped it. It jumped off the tailgate. It was really fat.”

I stared blankly at the man I love so much.

Thinking of how much I wanted to kill him.

I don’t remember my response. 

I do remember walking out to the garden to weed, water and pick.

I walked back to the house to get gloves.

I trap. He keeps.

"This marriage deal,” I began as Cody made his way to the barn. “I learned today that I’m the trapper and you’re the keeper. We’re no longer BowSankey. Two years into this forever deal and we’re now TrapperKeeper.”

"There are worse things, I guess," he responded. 

Slow and steady. 

Calculated. 

Calm.
I strangely wished I could be more like him. 
Balance, my friends, is everything.

I am the trapper.

He is the keeper.

Together, we will change the world.

Or, at least waste expensive diesel fuel to 

transport fat rodents from 

one county to the next.

In the spirit of saving their souls. 

Ugh. 

Don’t even get me started. 

Again.

The Longest Walk

It began in March.
I remember being very young and spending that particular day with my mother - which, of course - I always did. Those days were nothing extraordinary, but special nonetheless. Our time together was short. 
Anyhow, on this particular day, I caught the eye of a man. 

Not any man, but rather the one who owned the place; this place that I call home. 
He watched me briefly, then went on about his business of checking mineral tubs. 

April
Shortly after, that a very similar scenario played out, except the man had his kids with him.  "That's her, 510, she has her back to us," he told the children riding in the back bed of the Kawasaki Mule. 
The kids talked. I couldn't understand them over the rumble of the motor. They only stayed by mother and I for a few minutes. 
When they drove away, the young boy in the back studied me. 
Watched me. 
Looked straight into my eyes. I returned the gesture. 
I knew then: My life was about to change. 

September
Months later I was weaned; taken from my mother. 
Clueless animal rights folks think this is torture. 
Apparently they thoroughly enjoy still living in their parents' basement and playing Tetris on the internet.
That's not the life for me. Or anyone going somewhere in life. 
Mother handled it better than I did; she is maternal enough to know that life - even as a beef heifer - is about roots and wings. 
I went through the tub system and received my vaccinations and was poured so the insects wouldn't eat me alive. 
I was hard to corral. 
I carried on like a bandit. 
I bellowed against the metal of the system and acted like I was flat out being tortured. Dramatic? Maybe. 
But I wanted to prove my independence. 

Didn't work.

This is me an hour later. 

My life moved quickly after that. 

October
I was halter broken - but not after raising hell for a couple weeks. As a young heifer, that was my job. 
I was rinsed - extensively. For as clean as I stayed in that pen under a barn, they were sure concerned with rinsing me. A lot. It wasn't a problem until they interrupted snooze time. 
I was fed - precisely - to ensure nutrition. Never as much as I wanted, but I never mentioned it. Obviously. 

March
And I was talked to. 
Often. 
Sometimes the young boy talked more to me than he did his family. Sometimes he cried around me when none knew where he was. Sometimes he just came in and sat behind me to get away from everyone else. Usually, I was the only one who knew his secrets.
And most of the time, he liked me more than he did his sister. Can't blame him. She can be a tic dramatic. 

It was during this time that I strangely became a safe place - or hideout - for the young boy. He stayed here long after his work is done, Angus Journals in hand. He talked to himself. He circled things. He folded corners of pages. He studied that Journal far more than any text book. In fact, between you and me, sometimes he hid the Journal in his backpack and told his mother he was coming here to do his science reading, only to never crack open the science book. Please don't repeat that; I enjoyed the company. 

May
Just as the young boy is changing - he's getting taller and thinner - I am changing, too. Hours behind those Angus Journals (hopefully) paid off as the boy made the decision to breed me to BAR Ext, a bull certain to not kill me. Of course, according to his EPDs. There was a lot of discussion between the boy and his Dad about that decision. In the end, his Dad let it be the choice of the boy who had done his homework. You know, it's interesting how some folks think that after my showing days are over, my purpose is over, too. In reality - with this one decision, it's just beginning. 

July
It's funny how excited I get when I hear the diesel engine growl and the aluminum trailer hit the holes in the lane as it pulls into the farm. My initial thought: Someone is taking a ride, and I hope it's me. This time, it was. The boy loaded me up and took me all the way to Tulsa, Oklahoma for the National Junior Angus Show. I've never seen so many kids all jacked up on powered donuts and fun dip in my life. Water balloon fights, cooking contests, public speaking showdowns and matching t-shirts. About half way through the week I wasn't sure if I was at a cattle show for some sort of halfway house for wild adolescents addicted to Final Bloom. It was a good week, all the way around. Second in class. Can you believe it? I'm tired and ready for home. 

August
Well, today was interesting. I saw those kids fling showsticks at one another like they were participants of season 25 of Survivor. I mean....both great shots, both had the passion in their shouts and energy in their arms, but there was about three minutes when I didn't know if either would survive. The boy locked his sister in the stock trailer for calling him a sissie. I guess that'll teach her. Their mother came and demanded he let her out before she died in there. He walked back to the trailer with great hesitation. 

They both went on to survive the ordeal. And traveled to the county fair the next week.
What a week for all of us. The kids were extremely excited, the parents were somewhat excited, I was was most excited when it was over. It was a hot week for a gal used to a fan on her back. 
There were so many spectators taking it all in, commenting on each of us as we walked around. Some even made spectacles of themselves and commented on the kids. Don't get me started.  Anyhow, I did well. Like - purple banner over my stall card - well. Can you believe it?

After that it got cooler outside of the barn and the days got shorter. We took fewer walks with a show stick but increased our walks to and from the wash racks, for whatever reason. My days became mundane during that period. I always looked forward to that next trailer ride. 

November 
I had an interesting experience with the young boy. I rode in the stock trailer for several hours before unloading some place quite bigger than the county fair. Much of the week was similar, though. Eating, being rinsed, the boy watching me, being tied outside at night, his sister running around socializing. Two major differences I noticed: There were hundreds of head just like me. Blowers were constantly running, funs were buzzing around the clock, the wash racks were always full - can you believe that? I wasn't just the lone animal in the barn anymore. And, can you believe this, when the boy showed me I walked on green wood shavings. Green! I felt fancy. 

Except, when we got home, 

I realized how much my life 

was about to change. 

Now, it's my turn. 
I speak - or, something - with confidence when I say these kids have done everything they could to make me successful. The miles hauled across the U.S., the dedication and time, the investment of money, feed and space, the knock-down-drag-outs in the barnyard...all of that was for me. I didn't win a national show, but I don't think that was the goal at hand. The goal at hand is still in the making. 

Now it's my turn. 
As the boy leads me down the gravel path to the pasture, his sister tails me - though she does not touch me once. She need not. I walk willingly, as taught, as trained, as I know best. Where he leads me I will go; I am amongst friends. 

This, the longest walk, leads from the barn to the pasture, where I'll truly live out my purpose: producing a calf every year for the boy. Building his herd. Fueling his passion. Providing the next generation of breeding stock for the producer. Up until now, I've taught the boy animal husbandry, a bit about nutrition, the value of getting the work done before the day gets unbearably hot and why it's important to not kill your sister: She's a good co-worker. Now, after the longest walk, I'll teach him about raising safe, affordable beef in the U.S. 

Now it's my turn. 
And my job as a show heifer was never to get the young boy to the backdrop; this - all of this - was never about the backdrop. This was about becoming a cow that produced a live calf. This was about producing beef cattle that perform and reproduce - without a jack and chains.  This was never about tail adhesive, paint or crippled competitors. This is about beef. My life is about the offspring yet to come, of which the young - turned adult - boy will one day say to his daughter as he points, 

"Her grand dam was 

the one that started it all."

For a mother's perspective, 

check out It's A Wonderful Life.