This is one of my favorite pictures of my cousin's daughter, Maddie. It is from 2011. This week she as completed her last competition with a grand champion market steer. Congrats, Maddie.
I am reminded to be grateful for my farm roots. Now, you can substitute whatever fits for you. Small town roots. City roots. Southern roots. We all come from different places and spaces.
For me, I have farm roots, just like Maddie.
We grew up playing barefoot in the grass, chasing after grandpa's chickens and petting cows. We were not afraid of spiders and snakes. We knew that we could play outside until it was dark, and then we had to come inside, unless we had a chance to play "Ghost in the Graveyard".
My lifelong friend, Todd Corbin, just brought his precious wife, Laura, home for the first time to see his hometown and to meet his childhood friends. Laura even managed to drive a combine. I am glad she was able to glimpse into Todd's childhood.
Todd and his brother, Brent, were the same ages as April and me. His cousin's ,Diane and Denise, were about the same age, too. They would head to Grandpa and Grandma's farm during summer break and we spent endless days in the sun, in the creek and the barn. We were too young to grasp the wonder of such carefree days.
The farm is a place where nature sings. We can quiet our hearts and take it all in.
"They speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty— and I will meditate on your wonderful works." -Psalm 145:5
Today, I am grateful for farm roots.
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