By Melissa Hart

Starch was a staple growing up.  My mom would spend a few afternoons every
week standing over an ironing board making sure all of my dad’s clothes were
starched and looking crisp.  She didn’t
stop there, she would starch her clothes, dad’s hankies, her aprons, doilies,
cloth napkins that were used on special occasions and especially the tablecloths
that donned the dinner table on Sunday afternoons when we were likely to have
company for dinner.

Seeing my mom set up her ironing board in the kitchen was a
normal part of growing up and I thought all moms did that, until I found out they
didn’t. But I did.  Early in our marriage
I had a big pile of ironing, just like my mom. 
And within the pile, along with my husband’s shirts, his Wrangler jeans,
and crocheted doilies were pillowcases.  Again,
I thought everyone starched their pillowcases, until I found out they didn’t.

This led me to asking mom why on earth we starched pillowcases?  It was simple, it protected the pillowcase
from the dirt and grime that can ruin or stain it. Also, it prolongs the life
of the pillowcase or anything else that could be starched.  This made perfect sense, and so I continued
to spray starch on the pillowcases, napkins, white shirts, doilies, and Wrangler
jeans.

As the busyness of a family encroached on my available time
to starch the family dress clothes, the pressed pillowcases went by the wayside.
I haven’t starched a pillowcase in 25 years. But my mom on the other hand,
still takes the time to carefully spray the starch on and press in the
satisfying creases.

In a recent conversation the subject of pillowcases popped
up when she had come across a set that were given to them as a wedding
gift.  That means those pillowcases were
65 years old and still going strong, thanks to the starch. Then she told me this
story; when she and my dad were newlyweds, she had just changed the sheets and
as they crawled into bed he smelled the pillowcase and asked why she starched
them. She explained why and he replied, “Whenever I smell the pillowcases it
makes me feel like someone cares.”  That simple
statement filled her up 65 years ago making her feel like she had done
something right. And today, every time she starches a pillowcase that memory floods
her mind and soothes her grieving soul that misses the man she loved and who’s
pillowcase she starched for over six decades. 

I have a new podcast out on Spotify and Apple Podcasts!  It’s the Dairy Agenda Today EXTRA Podcast with Chris Hill !

Chris and his wife, Jen, operate MD-Hillbrook in Maryland and specialize in marketing purebred dairy genetics. Chris took a few minutes out of his day while he was trucking cattle to the Maryland State Fair to visit about how he became an auctioneer and how on earth he can breath while crying a sale! 

If you enjoy the podcast, share it on your social media channels!

On a Friday afternoon at the state fair, I typed up show
results and posted photos of a show that was happening in front of me at the
Farmer’s Coliseum in downtown Indianapolis. 
Four rings of cattle were on exhibition while clerks, queens and
announcers kept the pace of the show moving forward for spectators enjoying a
vanilla shake and a hot grilled cheese.

On one side of me was a young woman who had just moved back
from Iowa and was telling me about her entrepreneurial idea of opening a
western wear boutique, behind me sat a former state officer for Indiana FFA and
was headed to Purdue to major in ag communications with a desire to get into ag
broadcasting. And on my left-hand side was my youngest son who was just along
for the fun and giggles. He was flanked by the Indiana Holstein Queen who
hailed from Turtle Town, USA, otherwise known as Churubusco, Indiana—don’t
think there weren’t some great stories about turtle races throughout the day.

On that same Friday afternoon, 476 miles west, my daughter
was sitting ringside covering the Iowa State Fair Holstein show. The girl who
went off to college and said she would never work in the ag industry was
taking photos of cows and posting show results while visiting with
acquaintances turned life-long friends because she’s been going to this state
fair with me for nearly 10 years.

When these two kids were 6 and 8, they would tag along with
me to cover events at local county fairs. 
Whether it was a livestock auction or a show, they were always in search
of the cheapest corndog on the grounds and then hit the local dairy producers
ice cream stand.  We couldn’t leave the
fair without going through the commercial building to pick up all the free
pens, candy, chip clips and yard sticks.

Now in their 20s, they both have a career, live on their own
and are enjoying the life God has put before them. Never in my wildest dreams
did I think twenty years later, we would still be going to the fair, enjoying
grilled cheese and vanilla shakes, sitting ringside at a show.  But here we are, two of us in Indy and the
other in Des Moines and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Visiting with my oldest son over coffee he said, “I have a
question for you.”  Whenever he says that
I always brace myself because it’s usually a question that involves lots of
thought and sometimes I have no idea how to answer him.

He asked, “When you get together with your lady’s group, do
you complain about your husbands?” I said, “Sometimes.”

Then he asked, “And when you do complain, you all pile on,
right?”

It was a great opportunity to explain to him how the
healthy support of other women can make the difference between a vibrant family
life and insanity.

The ladies I meet with week after week not only support each
other, but we support each other’s spouses, kids, grandkids and parents.  I can’t count the number of times I was
spitting nails about something that happened earlier in the day and recounted
the circumstance in great detail waiting for everyone to fly to my defense only
to have them point me right back to the positive, the good and the hopeful
aspects of my marriage.  While I wanted
everyone to commiserate, they stepped back, wrapped their arms around my family
and squeezed us tight with prayer.

Not only did they not pile on, they recounted my
husband’s attributes and shed light on his perspective.  They showed me the other side of the argument
and helped me consider all sides of the situation. Sometimes they laughed.  Sometimes they shared their own similar
stories, but never did they add to my frustration by layering on more blame and
exasperation.

My son was astounded. 
He said he had never seen that kind of thing in his generation of women.
I added that I learned a long time ago that when you have a friend who is
taking your side and finding more cause for your argument, you need to find a
new friend because she will be the first one to try to steal your husband away.

Finding a group of women who will love your
family as much as they love you is a gift that will not only  keep your sanity in an insane world, but will
calm the storms when the waves of family life come crashing down in a moment’s
notice.  We were created for community, a
community that loves and supports your entire family filled with the chaos of
life.  

I just about spit out my coffee while reading a recent email
that proposed I take over a certain position.  It would mean a commitment to something I
barely knew anything about.  It would
mean I would lead a group of people who didn’t even know me.  And it would mean a sacrifice of time,
energy, learning, and compassion. 

As fast as the email came in, was about as fast as the thought
exited my mind.  I wasn’t qualified.  I had no time for this. My knowledge was way
below average, and I could name about 10,000 other things I would be better
suited for. 

I can’t tell you how many times this has happened to
me.  An idea was introduced, and I
immediately dismissed it as something I could never do.  Motherhood, writing, homeschooling, backing a
manure spreader down a hill into position, starting an IV in a cow, the list
goes on and on of things I said I could NEVER do and yet found myself doing
exactly that.

My problem is, I think I should be 100% qualified to do
anything I try.  In my mind, this ensures
that I won’t fail.  But that’s not how
life works.  We are constantly challenged
to do something new, something we may not be qualified to do, and that’s where
we have to lean on our Creator to make up the difference.

As much as we would like to think we can order our days and
control the outcomes, we can’t. No amount of work, worry, planning or
strategizing can guarantee that everything will work out in our favor.

We were not created to hold tomorrow, or the entire next
month.  No matter how hard I try, I can’t
predict, create, order, or conduct tomorrow or the next day or the next.  I would like to try to control it all, but I
can’t.  God is in charge of tomorrow and
next week, and next year and we are all better for it.

So, as I venture into the future, my job is to contemplate
what’s presented, serve those around me and leave the results up to God. Afterall,
He has told us that we are not called or equipped to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow
has enough trouble of its own.   

He knows best.  He
knows all.  He just knows.

 “Sometimes it’s better to appear a fool than to open your
mouth and remove all doubt.”

That was a quote my dad repeated often. Not in a derogatory
way, but he knew that I needed to listen more and talk less. I was the talker
in the family.  My report cards from
elementary school always had a comment from the teacher about excessive talking
in class.  I was constantly ‘shushed’ at
the library, so much so that I hated going there. Why would we all go into a room
and not talk?

While I’ve tempered my tongue slightly, I still tend to ask
questions, make suggestions without being asked and I usually speak up when I
should quiet down. While at a show recently, I suggested to the ring steward that
she move the final lineup of cattle to a different spot so that it was easier
to get a better photo. She refused.  In
fact, she didn’t speak to me for the rest of the show. I told my husband about it
and he kindly explained to me that sometimes I come on a little strong. Years ago,
that would have crushed me, and I would have found myself bent over backward
trying to please her and apologizing profusely. 
Today, not so much.

God created all of us with a unique personality and gave us
a spot on this earth with purpose and a plan. Some of us are talkers, others
remain quiet and pensive.  Some of us
move in quickly trying to fix a problem while others stand back and evaluate.
Some of us like to share our opinions, while others would rather chase renegade
cows back to their pasture than speak their mind.

But no matter your temperament or personality, whether you
like libraries or get your energy from talking with crowds of people, your
contribution to this world is not only necessary but it’s expected. Maybe you
lack confidence and fear grips your gumption. Throw that fear off and do the
scary thing. Someone somewhere is depending on your fearlessness and needs
your influence.  Whether it’s your
spouse, your children, or your employees, show up, work to your greatest potential,
and fill that spot created just for you.

 FOMO is real and is plaguing people of every
generation.  It adds anxiety, builds
discontentment, robs you of your present joy, and steals every moment that would
normally bring you happiness.

Fear Of Missing Out.

It’s funny that something that has nagged people for years
now has its own abbreviation and is used on every social media platform by
millions. We have all felt it.  No one
wants to miss out on an opportunity of a lifetime or the chance to do something
fun but what price are we willing to pay to keep FOMO at bay?

Young moms everywhere have been told they can have it all,
it only takes balance. They are told, if you don’t have a fulfilling career,
you are missing out.  If you don’t
experience all the joys of motherhood, you are missing out.  If you work full-time at an entry-level job,
you are wasting your time.  If you stay
home with your children you are wasting your earning potential and your family
will starve. We have convinced a generation of women that motherhood is the
goal, but you better make sure your career is Instagram-worthy and pays well
too. We haven’t even taken into account the time and energy it takes to be a
wife who loves and respects her husband who may be a full-time farmer in need
of all kinds of support both emotionally and practically.

While this may seem hopeless and overwhelming, it doesn’t
have to remain that way. There is hope but it comes by way of sacrifice. The
result is no regret and another new season of life waiting for you with
unimaginable opportunities and plenty of earning potential. As much as this
sounds like an infomercial for a pyramid scheme, I assure you, it’s real life.

I spent the 90s as a pregnant stay-at-home mom.  I spent the first decade of the 21^st
century chasing children, and cows and supporting a husband and a farm.  The second decade began a change that I never
saw coming.  As my children started to
leave the nest, my time as the school carpool mom, classroom cookie provider, and uniform cleaning service began to wane, and I discovered I had more time
for things I wanted to pursue.

Over time, more projects found their way to my inbox which
have turned into travel opportunities and marketing avenues that I had only
dreamed about in my ag journalism classes in college.  If I could have described my dream job, it
wouldn’t have even scratched the surface of what I wake up to do every
morning.  It challenges every piece of
intelligence that I ever thought I had and allows me to express myself in ways
I once considered daunting at best.

No one ever told me this season was coming.  I only heard from well-meaning empty nesters
that my children will grow up fast and I’ll miss these younger days when they
are toddling around spooning oatmeal off their highchairs and stuffing pieces
of syrupy pancake in the DVD player. 
While I’ll admit I enjoyed the crayon-authored Mother’s Day cards and
bouquets of dandelions, what kind of parent is sad about their adult children
who are successful in their own careers and happy in their own homes?

What did I pay for this second season of life without
regret? Boxes of $.33 macaroni and cheese, pancakes, and homemade syrup for days
on end because it was cheaper than cereal. 
Dress pants for junior high boys from the thrift store and bags upon
bags of hand-me-downs from the neighbors. 
Cheap shampoo, worn-out minivans, used appliances, and second-hand barn
boots bought on eBay. The dollar menu at Mcdonald’s was a family favorite, along
with boxes of day-old donuts from the neighbor who worked at the local bakery.

I spent my share of time storming the gates of heaven on
behalf of my family and our farm. And I wouldn’t trade a single tear for all
the gold in the world. It humbled me. It kept me on my knees, and it made me
experience the faithfulness of a God whose promises are always yes and
amen.  He worked all things together for
good, He gave me strength to do all things and He continues to move mountains
and do the impossible so that I can speak of His faithfulness and His steadfast
love.

Stop with the FOMO. Instead, embrace your family and the path
that God wants to lead you down. He will bring you unimaginable joy and the
only thing you’ll fear is missing out on what He has planned for you.

Young moms everywhere, your season is coming.  I promise. 

I was putting the last of my things in the car while my
husband was checking out of the hotel in Erie, Pennsylvania.  It was Father’s Day and we were headed home
from a sale we had attended in New York. 

The beautiful morning sun made for a great start to the day
and while I was standing there waiting, a young dad came out and was loading
luggage into his pick-up truck.  I said
good morning and then curiosity got the best of me and I asked about the
sticker on his back window. It said “NVR SMR.”

He encouraged me to guess, so I stood for a few minutes and
guessed the first one, never.  And he
enthusiastically said, “Yes! You’re so close, you can do this!” And then I
blurted out “Summer!  Never Summer!”

He said, “YES!” And then gave me a high five.

Of course the follow up question, “What does that mean?”

He told me it was a brand of snowboards and that he and his
family love winter and all the snow sports. We meandered down that path of
where he goes, how often he goes and that he and his family should definitely
go to the Rocky Mountains and enjoy real powder on real slopes.

He asked if I skied, and I proceeded to tell him about my one
downhill skiing experience with my dad in the Rocky Mountains in Montana.  You remember, the one where we stood in line
on the bunny hill to get our one skiing lesson from the professional only to
have my impatient father say, “We don’ t need lessons, come on, let’s go get on
the chairlift and go up to the top.” Of course, I followed because if my dad
believed I could do it then I knew I could…. until I got to the
top.   The chair lift dumped us off, and
I collapsed in a heap and started scrambling to get out of the way of the
people behind us getting dumped off.  It
was literally all down hill from there and I never went again.

This total stranger obliged my story, laughed with me, noted
the confidence I had in my dad and we both recognized the importance of the
father role in a family giving his kids encouragement to try new things. He had
no idea that my dad had passed away or the enjoyment I received reminiscing
over a fun story I hadn’t thought of in years.

I will likely never see this man again, but I walked away
thinking how gratifying that five minute conversation was in the hotel parking
lot in Erie, Pennsylvania.  That human
connection is exactly what we were created for as we traverse our brief time on
earth.  Don’t waste the time you’ve been
given closing off the rest of the world, instead greet people with a smile, you
never know what you might learn or the blessing you will receive.