This will be the storm we talk about twenty years down the road.

It will be the one we tell our grandkids about someday.

We will think back and shake our heads as we remember the days upon days we saw cold like we’d never seen before, and the sinking feeling in our gut knowing that our best might not be enough.

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We will remember how we powered through the sleepless nights solely on caffeine and adrenaline.

How we cursed under our breath and shook our heads as we found that newborn calf just minutes too late.

How we gave God the glory for every single calf we found in time as we nestled it next to the floorboard heaters of our pickup trucks.

How we bowed our heads at night and listened to our children pray for protection over our animals.

How we checked the weather forecast dozens of times each day, looking for a glimpse of hope.

How we spent nearly every hour out in the bitter cold breaking ice and rolling out hay, doing everything in our power to give our animals a fighting chance.

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This will be the storm we look back on and acknowledge that while it was like none other we had seen, we came through on the other side stronger and more resilient.

We did what had to be done and didn’t think twice about it.

We napped in pickups, our coffee pots were never off, and we kept on going.

We came out the other side a little bruised, but not broken.

Because we are farmers and ranchers, and this is what we do.

Originally published on Faith, Farming and Family