As the Family Farm Goes...

...so goes the country.

I just finished reading a novel, In a Pickle, by Jerry Apps. It takes place in Wisconsin during 1955-56. Big ag is slowly worming its way into family farms. The ones that will let them, anyway. Not the best book I've read, but he hit on a few truths. One of the characters muses upon the differences in farming when big ag takes over:

Farming would turn from growing food to producing a product. The land would no longer be something special but just another kind of factory. Inputs and outputs. Seed, fertilizer, and water in. Corn, cucumbers, potatoes, wheat, and oats out. The factory way. Measure the inputs. Measure the outputs. Farmer as factory worker, machine operator, and technician rather than steward, custodian, and caretaker.

One of the characters is widowed and must sell off her farm. About 25 years ago, my husband and I attended one such auction. Partly I wanted to be able to legally be on a farm for a time. I was also hoping to find an inexpensive antique for our apartment. But, I was struck by the sadness of it all. A lifetime of memories stuffed in boxes and laying on tables. All for sale. I fell in love with a milking stool, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy it. What right did I have to take this stool that could tell many a story? It felt like the stealing of a memory. Listen to how the author of the book described the widow at the auction:

Iris Clayton stood alone, watching her life on the farm being sold piece by piece, animal by animal. Memories flooded over her, of milking the cows that now were numbered to be sold--cows that she knew by name, Susan and Florence, Sally and Lilly, Amanda and Polly. She knew each one, knew her personality, how she wanted to be milked, what she liked to eat, how much milk she gave. Information that no one else cared about, private information that she held and cherished. How do you sell a memory? she wondered. The tears continued down her face.

Ultimately, the book has a hopeful ending. Although the reader laments the lives ruined by corporate intrusion, the main character is able to make some changes on his farm on his own terms, and he keeps his land and continues to farm.

As I read blogs written by Christians who farm, and I seek to slowly increase our own little suburban vegetable patch, I thank God for His creation and His provision. And may He richly bless the hard work of those who continue to farm and ranch for His glory.