merry Christmas eve

We could say something profound and heartfelt this Christmas Eve, reminding you that a farmer has to "get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper, and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of a school board."

We could remind you that a farmer "has arms strong enough to wrestle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild; somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife's done feeding visiting ladies, then tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon, and mean it." 

We could wax eloquent on the fact that a farmer "can shape an axe handle from a persimmon sprout; shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire; can make a harness out of hay wire, feed sacks, and shoe straps; who, at planting time and harvest season, will finish his 40-hour work week by Tuesday noon and then, paining from tractor back, will put in another 72 hours." 

We could reminisce about how a farmer "has to be willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain and yet stop in midfield and race to help when he sees first smoke from a neighbor's place."

We could say that a farmer is "somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bales, yet gentle enough to wean lambs and pigs and tend to pink combed pullets; who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadowlark," who is able to "plow deep and straight and not cut corners," who can "seed, breed, and rake and disk and plow and plant and tie the fleece and staring the milk and replenish the self-feeder and a hard week's work with a five-mile drive to church."

And we could wrap it up by nodding our heads at the knowledge that a farmer "bales a family together with the strong, soft bonds of sharing."

But instead, as a pork girl and a dairy guy, we'd just like to say on this Christmas Eve . . . 

{Thanks, Paul Harvey! Watch "So God Made a Farmer."}