Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to the father of my children. I couldn’t have picked a better man to teach my kids how to work hard, love fiercely, put family first, and love their Savior. This man will work a night shift, sleep for three-ish hours, get up, go to church, come home and crash for a couple more hours only to get up and head back to work another night shift. He’ll look worn down and exhausted so sometimes I play devil’s advocate and say, “why don’t you stay home today?” He told me, “I want the kids to know how important church is to me.” We are all struggling with the idea of him moving to Kansas without us in a month, but knowing him, he will do EVERYTHING he can to stay connected and help us feel his love. One more year of sharing him with the army and then he is all ours. He always takes time to teach the kids about what interests them as well as how to adult. Max already budgets, knows how to check car fluids (is learning how to refill them), take care of the aquariums, mow the lawn, and much more all thanks to his dad. Maverick is beginning to learn those things and Andy is an amazing teacher.

To my own dad, I wrote about him in my journal recently, this is about what it said:

I’ve been reading my sister’s novel about her budding relationship with her now husband, as well as her experience with major facial reconstructive surgery. My dad is at her side every step of the way. Choking up when she gets bad news, cheering her up when she’s in the thick of it and not feeling an end to the misery, and on. It reminded me of when I had open heart surgery. I was only seven and with the addition of anesthesia, my memory of it is a bit foggy, but I remember waiting before hand with my dad by my side. I remember saying, “Dad, you know what I want?” His response was, “What? A tunafish sandwich?” I laughed, because that’s what he did, he made a serious and hard situation light and livable. “No,” I replied after I stopped giggling. “I wish I didn’t have to have this surgery.” Then I remember him comforting me. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember his presence and the effect it had on me. He’s been that steady force of stability for me throughout my life. Even recently, when the Army threw us another curve ball, my dad called a couple of days later just to check in on me. With tears in his eyes, he told me he’d been praying for me. His tears meant so much to me. My pain was his pain and I felt so loved. I’m so grateful to my dad and for all of the things he’s provided, taught, and exemplified.

I’m also grateful to my Father-in-law and the dad he is and was to my husband, the grandfather and father-in-law he is to me and my family. He is also hardworking and generous, and leaves no doubt as to where Andy gained those qualities. We’ve gotten to see his hard work first hand this week as we’ve been at their farm joining in on the labor.

We stopped on the way to Texas at our friends, the Deharts. We miss them! We had a good time catching up and playing with their puppy. The next day we left bright and early– hitting Buc-ee’s for breakfast and then continuing west. Once we got there, Max got to open up an early birthday present. He got his very own shotgun.

We had one day to relax before jumping in. Admittedly, I’ve done less this trip than previous years. I’ve been working on my novel. But Andy and the boys headed to the farm Monday morning while I put Beverly and Harvey to work on Grandma’s house. The boys have been mucking out the horse stalls whenever they get a chance, but it rained a LOT. While at the farm on Monday, they noticed Jellybean beginning labor with an amniotic sac coming out. We checked on her after lunch. She still had the sack, but no progress. By the evening the sack had turned black and we were sure the calf was already dead, but we were hoping that Jellybean could push him out on her own. When the morning came and there was no progress, the vet was called but couldn’t come till later that afternoon. He just asked that we get Jellybean corralled before he came to make it easier. Well, Jellybean did not want to be corralled. After almost getting her in the chute, she pushed out, ramming Andy into a rail. That’s when Dad called us for backup. Mom and I headed down there and the five of us tried to herd her in. Max shook the feed bucket, trying to lure her to the chute, but not even food motivated her. She started getting really mad and we were playing a bit of “dodge the heifer” but when Red, their bull started thinking he’d join in on stampeding, we decided to get the horses out. The only problem is, is that the horses don’t get ridden often. So we spent a bit of time reminding them who was boss (and when I say we, I mean Darron and Andy). After they felt secure in the horses’ ability to listen (and hopefully not buck) they headed towards Jellybean. Finally she was responsive and started walking the way they were guiding her, but then she just got too tired and laid down. We were going to no where with her and even with running all over their acreage, she still wasn’t going into labor. She did contract once or twice, but with no progress. The vet finally showed up and tranquilized her. It took about ten minutes for her to fall asleep and just as she fell asleep the rains started. They came down quick and hard. I ran to the barn and grabbed Darron a raincoat and my MIL, Max, and I hung back at the barn trying to stay safe and dry, though we were all already soaked. Andy stayed out to help regardless of getting drenched. Andy and the vet were holding a metal chain attached to the hooves of the calf, trying to pull him out when they felt tingling on their arms. They quickly dropped the chain and jumped back and a lightning bolt struck not that far from them. I was praying with everything I had because I did not want to become a widow. They went back at it, tugging and pulling, but that calf wasn’t budging. After a long while the vet told Darron that he could operate a c-section, but that would be putting good money into a bad cow. Jellybean has had two other calves, one of which left Darron and his friends with their arms, elbow deep, pulling out Pita. They were lucky the calf and cow survived that one. The vet also said that there was a large chance that Jellybean would die from a c-section too. It was best to put her down within the next 24 hours to prevent sepsis so that her meat would still be good. Since there wasn’t a mobile butcher in the area, my in laws called up friends who could use some meat and had them come butcher the cow that evening. It was quite sad even though Jellybean, even in death, was a pill. When we pulled up to put her down, she decided to roll into the creek, but was too weak to get out. Andy shot her several times, including in the arteries to drain her. After a failed attempt at pulling her out using the UTV, Andy grabbed the tractor, which turned out to make butchering her easier as well. Though it was very sad, it was a very interesting experience. Our kids weren’t around for that part, but a 9 year-old farm boy joined in on the butchering and his skills for a 9 year-old impressed me quite a bit.