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We scrolled through photos of the Midwest blizzards and torrential storms, leaving a wake of disaster behind for farmers and ranchers. Destroyed barns. Devastating flooding. Dead animals. Within a few hours, they faced financial ruin wondering if recovering from this was ever possible. My heart broke for them because I understood.

“But aren’t you glad it wasn’t you?” my friend laughed nervously.

I stared at her incredulously. “What do you mean? Why would I be glad it wasn’t me?”

She dipped her head a little, obviously regretting her comment.

Because it was me.

Two years ago, my husband and I stood side by side, staring helplessly at our flooded fields, no evidence of the corn that grew a few days earlier. What was endless rows of cornstalks now looked like a lake. One of the tractors stood in the middle of the field, the door flung open by the hurricane-force winds and seats drenched with rain.

So when I see farms destroyed by weather, homesteads with chunks of walls and rooms missing, silos ripped apart and strewn through fields along with the stored crop, it’s me.

When entire crops are lost because of a natural disaster and farming families stand alone staring at the massive destruction wondering how they’ll manage to provide for their families while recovering from these seemingly insurmountable odds, it’s me. It’s me because I’ve faced a lost crop wondering why it happened and where would we get our next meal from.

When a farm wife is balancing raising a family with all the jobs a working farm entails, it’s me. Because I’ve struggled to do all the things—parenting, homeschooling, farming—and figure out how to do them well while serving my husband, I relate to every farm wife. We’re in this delicate position of weaving together the family history with progressive change.

When the news coverage ends, the problems remain. Few beyond the direct path of destruction realize it’s not a quick fix. When farmers should be planting now, their ruined land and broken equipment challenges linger interfering with the current crop schedule. They cannot move forward until each issue is addressed. Sadly, unless you’re part of the agricultural industry, you aren’t even aware of the difficulties and issues that exist for farmers and ranchers.

But the farming community has something in common with one another—the beauty of unity.

We’re related through the generations of hardworking men and women before us, pouring blood, sweat, and tears, into an honorable legacy to leave our families. When one hurts, we all hurt. When natural disasters strike and we face financial ruin, we help whatever way we can. We support one another through solidarity and prayers because the agricultural industry is one.

We’re resilient, always looking to the future, evaluating the past, adjusting, and moving forward. We persevere through the hardest times even when the outlook is bleak. We know our farms are the best places to raise a family and we have the freedom to teach them responsibility, caring, a good work ethic, and how to love this land. They develop compassion and common sense and they’re the strongest people I know—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Farm tough is what we are.

Every day, our sons and daughters get to model the example set before them by their dads and grandpas, their moms and grandmas. They learn to depend on God and trust Him, deepening their own faith one day at a time.

Because of this, I’m proud to be a farm wife. I’m honored to be a part of this community we call family, the backbone of the red, white, and blue, the farmers of America.

Everyone could benefit from a little farm life running through their blood.

Amanda Wells

Amanda Wells is the proud wife of a smokin’ hot third-generation farmer, and they have taken Psalm 127:5 literally, raising their quiverful of six kids on the farm. She loves baking, reading, writing, and arithmetic (kidding!). Amanda writes about faith, homeschooling on the farm, and family life at

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