Sometimes Everything Will not be All Right

I was recently watching one of those "feel good" Hallmark movies, and a single mother was struggling to survive during Christmas. Her wise young daughter said, "We just need to pray. Then everything will be all right." I am a big believer in prayer, but I had to turn the channel. I lived that in real life. Prayer isn't a magic wand. It doesn't magically make everything all right.

My mother loved us fiercely, but it was rough when she became a single mother with three children. She did everything she could to keep us together as a family. We had some family support and our share of friends and neighbors that helped us. The bottom line though, friends, family, and prayer didn't keep us from going to bed hungry. We went to school without warm coats, and we had holes in our shoes. We moved a lot, since a landlord can only go so long on a sob story and no rent money. There would be times the electricity and heat would be turned off. Every month we would visit the local food banks, and try to get by with dried beans and dented cans of vegetables.







I will never forget the Christmas we had nothing. We couldn't afford a tree, so my step dad cut a piece of plywood and painted us a tree. My mom crocheted everyone mittens and scarves. We were living on hot dogs and ramen, and didn't have a turkey dinner to look forward to. It was a surprise when the Camas fire department showed up at our house and gave us a Christmas meal and presents. I cried. I thought I was old enough not to care anymore, but the emotional impact of a simple gift was huge.

When I look back, it breaks my heart to think of the young innocent children we were. We survived, but everything wasn't all right. That's why I turned the channel. We all want to go about our lives believing that if we pray and love each other, things are fine. That's a a fairy tale. We worry about our Facebook picture perfect lives, but avoid the reality. We focus on Black Friday sales and the newest iPhones. There is a world of suffering children, and we can't make everything all right with prayer alone. But maybe, just maybe we can focus on helping others, rather than obsessing about more possessions that no one needs.

Today is giving Tuesday, and it's a great time to help needy families during the holiday season. Which is your favorite charity? How do you help in your community? What is your story of sharing or help? I know that even small gestures can have a big impact in peoples lives, and I want to say thank you to all the people that volunteer and help others. It means so much!

Farm wife needed!

Since I started farming, I no longer have time to be a farm wife! My part time efforts have been pathetic, so I decided to fill my former position.



I need someone:

• To make sure I don't starve


• To make sure I don't smell bad


• To make sure I don't work myself to death

It would also be helpful if:

• The lawn was any shade of green and didn't need swathing


• The fridge didn't contain stuff that looks like 6th grade science experiments


• The house didn't look like someone had just shaken all its contents

It's a bonus if:

• Spontaneous road trips to town for parts were your idea of fun


• You enjoyed the challenge of creating tasty lunchbox treats


• You like waiting in random fields

Must be:

• Able to get along with the husband and dog


• Flexible to last minute schedule changes


• Able to entertain oneself during seeding, fertilizing, and harvest


• Able to tolerate grumpy farmers

Compensation includes:

• Free tractor/combine rides


• Country living


• Knowledge you are doing something vital to keep the world fed

Applicants must also understand that farming is a lifestyle, not a job. It includes almost no weekends off, no paid vacations, and not much time for social events or friends.

Being a farm wife isn't for everyone. It takes a special person, and I hope all the farm wives out there know they are important! Thank you for all you do!

Conversations with my Husband

My husband and I do not talk about farming very much, except for conversations that almost always go like this. "How many acres do you have left?"

Immediate panic fills me. Pop quiz and I don't know the answer, again. I hopefully reply, "Over half." I can tell right away that answer is not adequate.

He continues, "Are you past that long rocky finger on the south side?"

"Um, I'm not sure there are all kinds of rocky fingers. I'm not at the corner yet"

"Well, are you past the dump?"

I search through my visual memory and vaguely remember a bunch of rusted stuff over a hill. I confidently reply, "Yes!"

Then he asks, "Have you gotten to the pile of posts?"

I give a blank stare. "A pile of posts isn't a landmark"

He returns my blank stare. I guess a pile of posts is a landmark.

I pull out my camera and hopefully say, "This is my picture from my last round" My picture shows a slight hint of a road, beautiful clouds, and the middle of the field.



My hubby sighs.

I try to cheer him up with my other beautiful pictures, but it's not working. Clearly I have failed this pop quiz.

This might be why we don't have many farming conversations. At least he loves me anyways, and tonight I can tell him I seen that pile of posts! 

Delivered 10 Calves and a Baby, All in a Days Work!

My daughter Sarah was only three months old, when I made the shocking discovery that I  was pregnant again. This blessing was a total shock. I was breast feeding full time and using birth control! I cried the whole pregnancy. I had a three year old and an infant, and no idea how I could possibly take care of a third child too. Ryan my oldest was delivered cesarean, and Sarah was a difficult vaginal birth. I was dreading the upcoming delivery.

I opted for a planned cesarean and had an appointment scheduled for a Friday, a week before my due date. That Monday before, I woke up at 5 am with a labor pain. I had a lot of false contractions, so I just wrote it down to keep track. I decided to have a relaxing bath since I was uncomfortable and awake anyway. Two more contractions, fifteen minutes apart, made me decide this was the real thing. I started to get everyone ready to go, and my husband phoned his parents who would take our children that day, the hospital, and his boss. We were almost ready to go, and my husband was still on the phone complaining to his boss about how much he hated hospitals and how this was going to take forever. I was hit with another contraction. It was sooner than expected and it was strong! I am doubled over in pain and I yell, "Get off the phone!" I tell my husband, "call back your parents and have them meet us on the highway." That would be quicker than driving down their dirt road. We each grab a child, and I grab a bath towel.

Randy buckles Ryan into his car seat, and I can't do anything more than hold Sarah on my lap. We drive the 7 miles to meet his parents. Randy hands off Ryan to his dad and his mom comes around the car to get Sarah. She takes one look at me as a I am breathing heavily and says, "uh-oh." At that moment, my husband FINALLY figures out this is happening a lot faster than he thought. He takes off, flooring our crappy 78 Chevy Malibu, top speed 80 miles an hour. We still have 50 miles to the hospital. I am doing my best NOT to have a baby, but my water breaks. Thank goodness for the towel! I can tell the baby is really low, and I tell my husband, "go to Ephrata. They have a hospital." They did not have an ob/gyn, but my doctor was still 20 miles away. He chose to go to Moses Lake.

We get another eight miles down the road, and I know I am going to have this baby right then. I say something to that point, and my husband responds, "well have the baby then." At this point, I am laying with my head on his lap and my feet on the door. The next contraction the baby's head crowns. I yell. My husband looks over, says nonchalantly, "Sure enough." He pulls the car over, runs around to my door, and it's locked. I pull the lock, slide to the edge of the seat, and the next contraction delivers the baby into my husbands hands. Randy hands the baby to me, which I wrap in the towel and make sure is breathing ok.

Randy roars off into rush hour traffic, and we arrive at the hospital 15 minutes later. The baby is ok and we name this bundle of joy Jeffrey. My husband is bragging to all the hospital staff, "I deliver calves all winter. Birth is perfectly natural. No big deal." He goes home to get the kids and returns later that evening. As Randy enters the elevator, he hears a nurse say to her friend, "He delivered the baby by himself along the road. Says ten calves and baby is all in a days work."

Much later my husband and are talking and I ask him about the slight hesitation between catching Jeff and handing him to me. He admits sheepishly, "I looked for a fence to throw him over to clean out his lungs, but I didn't see one." Thank goodness there wasn't a fence! Jeff is turning 24 this year, and he has continued to wonder and surprise us every year. Happy birthday Jeff!

​The Hardest Year of My Life

Most times we never see the event coming that will change our lives forever. In one instance, we become different people. Sometimes we don't recognize the significance of a moment until years later. My one moment occurred during an icy winter just over a decade ago. I was carrying water to the outside animals in a large canning pot. I slipped in the ice and fell hard. I landed in a sitting position, still holding the pot because I didn't want to spill the water. My husband asked, "Are you alright?" I shakily replied, "I don't know." I would usually reply, I'm fine, and laugh in embarrassment. I wasn't in immediate pain, but it didn't feel right. 

Driving combine cutting wheat!

It took a while for the pain to set in. I thought I would be fine with some rest and ibuprofen. I probably waited a month before I seen a doctor, and by then I was a mess. I couldn't lift a pot of coffee with my right hand anymore. I couldn't sit, stand, or walk without pain. I could only lay on my left side somewhat comfortably. I was uncomfortable driving, or even riding. I started to use my left hand for almost all tasks. I had stabbing pains throughout my lower back and down my leg. My shoulder hurt and pain shot down my arm. The middle of my back felt like I was being stabbed. I had to ask the doctor for a medical withdrawal note, because I was failing my college classes. I hurt too much to read and understand the material. I hurt too much to sit at a keyboard and type. I was in tears explaining this to the doctor. He prescribed antidepressants and said I was overly stressed. He said my middle back pain was from ulcers resulting from ibuprofen use. He said my hand pain and loss of strength was carpal tunnel and provided me a brace. He said everything else would be fine in time and gave me muscle relaxers and vicodin. I was in so much pain, I didn't question him. I didn't push for Xrays or tests. 

Out weeding, checking equipment

The problem was it never got better. The prescriptions did little in the way of relief and nothing for improvement of quality of life. I couldn't push a shopping cart or pick up groceries to put in the cart. I had to have the help of my kids for almost every household chore. I hurt so bad and felt utterly worthless. I cried and I prayed and I cried some more. The doctor never seemed concerned that I was still asking for pain meds 3 months, 6 months, even a year later. He said I would just have to learn to live with the pain.  I didn't know if I could. It felt like my life was over.  I was only 35, and I had nothing but pain and misery.



Someone finally suggested a chiropractor. I was extremely reluctant, but even more desperate. It worked for me. After the first visit, I finally had some relief from the pain. It took frequent visits to the chiropractor to regain function, but I still struggled with the pain. He ordered Xrays to see what was going on with my spine, and he discovered a compression fracture in the middle of my back.  I am sure that was only part of the medical issues resulting from that fall. That was the proof that made me realize, it wasn't all just in my head. I wasn't just stressed.  

Living the Dream of Big Tractors, Hard Work, and Long Hours!

Recovery was long and hard, and every journey like that develops us as a person.  I learned its ok to ask for help. I don't have to do it all myself. I also learned to advocate for myself. It's not okay to have you pain ignored. More importantly, I learned to appreciate everything. I still hurt, but I have regained my strength and ability.  I work hard and play hard, because in one moment everything can change. Hard work is a blessing when you thought you would never be able to work again. I graduated college. I started working on the farm. Some days I come home tired and hurting, but I am still so grateful. Everything is an achievement to me! I'm not bedridden, and I have so much to look forward to. The motto of my TractorJen page is "living the dream of big tractors, hard work, and long hours," I really mean it. When I was writing this post, I wasn't sure what pictures to include. So much of this story is about pain, but I really want this to be about triumph. Being able to do everything I can now is such a blessing, and I will never forget it. 

The Tsnownami and How I Almost Got Stuck in my Chicken House

This winter has had some snow and wind, resulting in a tsnownami of a snow drift covering my chicken house. It was over ten feet tall and a hundred feet in length. There was an area I could still dig my way in, but the drifts kept getting bigger. One day it was 10 degrees, snowing and blowing. There was over a foot of new snow on top of the hard drift, but I needed to take care of my chickens.


This was taken a day after Randy plowed out my drift. It drifted back in a bit over night, but I could shovel it out.

I knew I couldn't dig all the way through. I was sinking in past my knees with each step, so I ended up crawling to the top of the drift and carved steps down into the chicken house. I cleaned out in front of the door and squeezed myself in. I fed and watered, and collected one egg. The snow was collecting at the base of the door and it was even harder to squeeze my way out. Then I started to climb out, but I kept slipping. The steps were full of new snow and I couldn't get any traction. When I was standing inside the chicken house, the drift was over four feet tall and nearly vertical. I had left the shovel outside.


View from inside the chicken house looking out. Again, this is after plowing.

I finally just threw myself as high as I could onto the drift and started wallowing around until I got to the top. By then I am exhausted, and the drift was so difficult to climb up earlier, so I just decided to roll over and over to the bottom. I am relieved to have made it out of there, but then remembered I had an egg, in my pocket. Which somehow, miraculously, did not end up scrambled. I asked my husband that night to dig out the drift with the tractor, which he thankfully did the next day. I can't wait for this winter to end!

My husband fails at Valentines Day

We've been married 27 years now and I have come to accept that my husband Randy will always fail at Valentines Day. He kind of sucks on birthdays and anniversaries too. He will march right by the aisles full of hearts, bears, roses, and balloons.  He will turn a deaf ear to every diamond store commercial. He won't make any complicated romantic dates. February 14th will arrive, he will look surprised,  turn toward me, and say, "Happy Valentines day! Love you!" That is the extent of his romantic plans. You know what? I'm okay with that. In every other way, he is a good husband and father. He is loyal and dedicated to his family. He just doesn't show his love in the way society thinks is romantic.

Randy and I climbed to the top of Beacon rock this year!

Let's change the idea of what is romantic. To me, romantic is the small things. I love that Randy will take me to see the buttercups blooming, or bring home an interesting rock because he knows I would like it. Romantic is library and lunch dates, like the ones when we were first married. It is road trips together, even if it's just to get parts. It is combine rides and watching the sun go down. It's holding hands and taking walks. Romantic is also the big stuff, like supporting my dreams even when it's hard. When I was working towards my degree, there were a lot of late nights and several times I wanted to quit. Randy always told me, "this is important, don't give up." I think his never ending love and devotion is better than diamonds, chocolates, or giant teddy bears.