Earlier this month at the AFA Leaders Conference, I was in a workshop about succession planning, or planning for the future of a family farm. It forced me to think about what will come in the future for my family’s home farm, but it made me consider even more of what the farm has been in the past for me.

As farmers, we have a lot of connection in our lives. We’re connected to our animals and crops, to the rest of the agriculture community, to the food we produce, to our families who work beside us, and to the land we live on and take care of. Our connection to the land is one of the strongest. Some say that farmers don’t care about the land and are consistently aiming to make it most productive, without considering impacts of our seemingly “bad” practices. This could not be further from the truth, I’ve learned, because farmers are the primary stewards of the land. It’s their livelihood, their pride and joy, and their past, present, and future.

It’s because of this strong care for the land that proves how much a farm can mean to a farmer. That’s why I’d like to thank my family’s farm for all it’s done for me.

To my family farm:

Everyday you get smaller and smaller to me. You’ve been where I’ve grown up, both physically and as a person. You’ve allowed me to grow with you. You’ve been a friend I can always depend on and find peace in. You’ve been my escape route many times, from being younger and wanting to run away from my parents after an argument, to my place to hide away from the mean girls of middle school, to where I’ve finally found comfort after a incredibly hard season in my life with school and health issues. You’ve always made me feel better. And although I’m not always with you, you’re like a friend I don’t have to always see, but I know whose love and spirit is always with me.

Even though I’ve felt the most safe with you and I can call you home, you’ve gotten me to experience some of the scariest times, too. You’ve let me experience loss, whether that’s through an animal’s death, workers leaving, farms disappearing, or the presence of agriculturalists in the country shrinking. When my dad had his accident, my family went through a lot. Because of that and the tough times within the industry and prices fluctuating, I’ve become stronger, and my family has, too.

I take what I’ve learned from you with me every single day. You’ve taught me about hard work in the frigid cold and in the sizzling heat. You’ve shown me the politics of the real world when our neighbors didn’t like what was happening with what we were doing, especially when it comes to manure management. You’ve shown me what it’s like to have real privacy when you hid our house behind acres and acres of tall corn. You’ve taught me that I always should wear boots and I should never get too attached to any article of clothing, because it’s doomed to get ruined at some point. You’ve taught me that waking up early is the best way to start your day. It’s when nature is the only one awake with you.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that there is nothing like one of your sunsets. Watching a sunset with the rolling hills with cows and crops filling the view has become my favorite sight. Sitting in the silence with this view is where I do my best thinking and praying. It’s where I connect with God most, where I rediscovered my faith, and where I feel the most whole. I never feel like I’m completely myself until a visit with you.

You’ve given me a connection to my family, even to the ones I never got the chance to meet. You’ve given me room to learn about myself through our adventures and work and about the world through your beautiful features. You’ve given me my best friends who fill my heart with incredible joy. You’re the perfect home for my four-legged friends, my family, and I.

Your changing landscape has proven the continuum of change in agriculture, especially in the United States. From beginning as a swine farm to now a creamery focused in agri-tourism with a new farm brewery coming up, you’ve seen it all, but that’s how agriculture is these days. I wish I could go back to our most exciting days of milking and feeding calves every day, but I now know that there comes a time for everything, and that’s not where we are right now as a family or a business.

You’ve shown people what American agriculture is. You’ve allowed the public to understand where their food comes from. You’ve allowed people to meet and pet their first cow. You’ve changed lives for hundreds and hundreds of people.

Thank you for all that you’ve taught and given me, and for connecting me to my family, this industry, and one of my greatest passions- agriculture. I am who I am because of you, and you’ll always be the real “home” to me, no matter where I go.

I don’t know where I’ll end up or where the future will take me, and it pains me to say that to you. But I will forevermore be thankful for what you’ve been and what you’ve become. I’ll do everything I can to protect you and to save you, which after all, is just returning the favor after all these years.