Growing Up on the Farm: A Childhood of Work, Faith, and Love.
I grew up on a dairy farm, the fourth of nine children—seven sisters and one brother. Life on the farm was not for the faint of heart, and as my father’s right-hand helper, I learned the meaning of hard work at a young age. While other kids might have been playing or exploring, my days were spent alongside my dad, milking cows, feeding livestock, and doing whatever needed to be done to keep the farm running.
Ours was a Christian home, built on faith, discipline and love. We didn’t have much money, but we had each other. My parents made sure we never went without the essentials, but luxuries were few and far between. We didn’t go to the movies or have the latest toys, and there was no such thing as skipping chores just because we wanted to. My parents were strict, and there were plenty of things we simply were not allowed to do. At the time, I often wondered what it would be like to have the freedom other kids seemed to enjoy.
But looking back now, I see the beauty in that life. The farm taught me responsibility, resilience, and the value of honest labor. I learned what it meant to take pride in my work, even when no one was watching. I saw firsthand how faith carried my parents through every hardship, and that same faith became the foundation of my own life.
Though I sometimes felt restricted, I also felt loved. My family was close, and in a home filled with laughter, stories, and the simple joys of togetherness, I never doubted that I belonged. We may not have had material wealth, but we were rich in ways that truly mattered.
Now, all these years later, I carry those lessons with me. The discipline, the faith, the understanding that love is not found in what we have, but in the people God places in our lives. I would not trade my childhood for anything.
If you grew up in a home like mine—one where hard work and faith shaped you—I hope you look back with the same gratitude. Life may not have been easy, but it was good. And that kind of upbringing leaves a mark that lasts forever. The picture is me with my pet pig, “BuckBill,”
