Hard work is a dirty phrase to many in our generation, even dirtier for the next.
Working was never optional in our families. Our parents and grandparents are/were hardworking people. They passed their heritage onto us. My mom would repeatedly say to us, “A job worth doing, is worth doing well.”
Frankly, it drove me NUTS when she said it. Little did I realize, she was repeating something her dad had said to her growing up. As a mother of four, I appreciate the diligence she and Dad showed as they trained us up to be productive. I find myself saying the same thing to my own kids.
Our family’s toil started with my Grandpa Earl Loutsch. His German parents settled on a farm in northwest Iowa over 100 years ago. My grandfather was born in the farm house that still stands today. As a young boy, he lost his father. He helped his mother continue to farm – living and thriving. He later married and purchased the farm from his mother.
Over the next several decades, nine more children were raised. Even after his “retirement” he spent many days at the farm during planting and harvest. He told me (with a wink) recently he’d moved into more of a management position. His company vehicle was a little old farm truck he drove. His free advice and sense of humor are going to be dearly missed.
We buried my grandfather last month. Saying goodbye to him has been difficult for all of us.
Our family is grateful for times we have had to listen to him tell stories about the farm, raising livestock and children. He worked hard, but loved to play cards, visiting with neighbors and teasing all of us grandkids. He enjoyed hearing stories about the grandkids playing ball or showing horses. He was a great listener, the definition of what it means to be a family man.
Not all of my cousins ended up on a farm. Most don’t even live in the country. We all share a love for our grandfather and his life’s labor. I am thankful to be able to look at the next generation and see his love and care of the soil, tractors, horses, pigs and an intense game of cards.
No family can tear through a bushel of sweet corn like ours can. No one could raise it like my Grandpa could.
Some of my most cherished memories of him remain on the northwest Iowa Century farm. A first ride on a John Deere tractor. A first horse ride. A first litter of pigs being born (much to his dismay). Baptisms, birthdays, holidays, graduations and weddings celebrated with his legacy of hard work in the backdrop.
He wasn’t into fancy cars or clothes. He always donned a mesh cap when he was out and about – usually a freebie from a local feed store or bank.
As we rejoiced for his eternal life in heaven, we read Ecclesiastes 3:1 “There is a right time for everything: A time to be born, a time to die; A time to plant; A time to harvest.”
Grandpa had 90 years of time to plant seeds of wisdom that have flowed down through the generations. This farmer’s life was a job well done. I plan to enjoy everything I’ve been given just a little more and make the most of my time.
How and with whom will you spend your time, neighbor?
