One of the Lucky Ones
I recently visited with another woman of my generation who is preparing to return full time to her family’s ranch in the near future after a couple of decades of a different career. We talked about how easy it is to take the experience of agricultural and rural living for granted when you’ve grown up with it. We agreed that we consider ourselves among the “lucky ones” who have known this lifestyle and lived close to the land and animals and seasons.
I used to dislike the word “lucky.” In the context of games, I am not the one who always wins at monopoly, nor the one who always gets a great hand of cards (either literally or figuratively). But I’ve realized that perhaps we assign a meaning to lucky that is closer to “happy” or “blessed” than its heritage as a gambling term in the English language.
When I think about how I have spent my life living and working on the farm and the ranch, something warm creeps into my chest, and I know I’m one of the lucky ones. Life is good – even though I don’t have a decent pitchfork on the place.
Lest you think me overly sappy or eternally optimistic, I’ll be honest: I’m usually right there with Eeyore, sarcasm and all. “At least we haven’t had any earthquakes lately,” I thought to myself grimly as we rode out yesterday’s hurricane force winds. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is cliché at best and probably bullshit if we’re honest. We know that sometimes “it” does kill you, and sometimes leaves you missing something that can never be replaced.
Good days and bad, good pitchfork or not, if you’re a rancher or a farmer, I’m guessing this sense of being one of the lucky ones resonates with you. Whether we got here by chance or Providence or by sheer grit, whether we’re still here by chance or by Providence or by sheer grit, we are the lucky ones. Not because everything goes our way, but because we get to live this life.
We get to smell the sweet earth as it thaws, as we cultivate fields and plant gardens, as it brings forth the first blossoms and the hills turn green. We get to hear the first meadowlarks and robins, witness the migration of waterfowl, raptors and songbirds. We get to see spotted fawns and baby antelope, smell wild roses and sagebrush, and feel rain and wind on our faces. We witness sunrises and sunsets, and we see a night sky full of stars, undimmed by city lights.
We get to help calves and lambs enter the world and take their first breath. We get to send these animals on, come fall, to help feed and clothe the world. We get to plant seeds and watch the miracle of green shoots rising from the earth. We know the hustle of haying and harvest time, the relief when it’s all in the bin or in the stack or in town.
We know the life-giving heat of a high July sun, and know the darkest, coldest storms of winter. We know the kiss of the Chinook and the cut of an Alberta Clipper. We know there’s nothing colder than an east wind, no matter what direction it comes from. We know how a hot, dry wind turns the hills brown and brings drought to the very marrow of our souls. We know that we are at the mercy of forces of nature far beyond our control and we learn to receive blessing and curse with humble hearts.
We are the lucky ones when we can see that life is a combination of chance, Providence, sheer grit, and a lot of grace. We are the lucky ones every time we catch our breath at the beauty of a sunrise or the bite of a bitter wind. We are the lucky ones because we recognize that we are rich in what we get to experience: the synchronicity of generations of neighbors and family all working together at a rope-and-drag branding, the hope of next year, faith born of rain coming after drought, joy that grows deeper for the sorrows along the way, and a great love found in the tiniest flowers, a trusting horse, or the grand dance of the aurora across the sky.
On a personal and less philosophical note, I’m counting myself one of the lucky ones to be able to celebrate Christmas with my mom, as cancer has been part of her journey this year. I’m definitely one of the lucky ones when it comes to children: I am blessed with the very best, including my sweet daughter-in-law who is carrying a very precious gift this Christmas – a tiny human who will call me Grandma one of these days. My heart is full with all of the community, faith, music and food traditions being shared during this season. Even if no one puts a good pitchfork under the tree with my name on it, there’s not a thing I lack.
