“Why does it always happen when I’m here by myself?”
That was Anne’s opening line when she called me in the tractor last night.
Anne had pulled into the barn to do evening chores and, before she even got inside, heard a tiny little baa.
“Oh great,” was pretty much her first thought.
The first lamb from our next group had decided to show up a few days early.
The little thing was smaller than Anne liked, so she got Mom and baby settled into a pen, made sure things looked alright, and then called me out in the field.
There wasn’t much discussion about what to do next. I needed to keep baling hay, and Anne had things under control at the barn.
So that’s what we did.
A few hours later, around 9:30, Anne called again. She was home, but still thinking about that little lamb and asked me to check on it when I finally got back.
It was nearly 11 when I pulled into the yard with a load of bales. I headed up to the barn, found Mom settled and the little lamb doing fine, gave it a bit of milk just to make sure, then finally headed back to the house.
When I walked into the quiet house, I noticed a greeting card sitting in the spot where those things always seem to get placed. It had come in the mail that day.
I picked it up and recognized the familiar handwriting of Anne’s sister, Marion.
“Celebrating three decades of walking hand in hand through life’s many paths. Separately you're powerful individuals but as a pair you're unstoppable! Happy 30th Anniversary! Enjoy your day! Love Marion and Merlyn.”
I stood there in the quiet kitchen and read it again.
“Separately you're powerful individuals but as a pair you're unstoppable.”
It almost felt like Marion had somehow been watching our day.
Anne had been at the barn by herself, taking care of a tiny early lamb while I was miles away making hay. She got Mom and baby settled, worried about the little thing for the rest of the evening, and then passed the worry along to me when I finally got home. I went to the barn, checked them over, gave the lamb a little milk, and everything was alright.
Neither of us had done the day together. In fact, for most of it we weren’t even in the same place, yet we had covered it all.
And there I was at the end of the night, reading those exact words from Marion.
This Monday, August 31st, Anne and I will have been married 30 years. And in that moment, I’m not sure anyone could have written a more accurate description of what those 30 years have become.
You might picture a husband-and-wife farm team working side by side all day, but honestly, a lot of the time we’re nowhere near each other. One of us is packing orders while the other is feeding sheep. One is making hay while the other suddenly finds herself starting lambing season.
Thirty years ago, Anne and I probably had all kinds of ideas about what our life together would look like.
I’m pretty sure neither of us pictured her dealing with an early lamb while I baled hay until 11 o’clock at night.
But here we are.
Still a team after all these years, through whatever life seems to put in front of us.
And I’m pretty thankful for the life Anne and I have built together.
Happy 30th Anniversary, Anne.
Farmer Rod
