My Why

Late summer and fall have always been my favorite seasons. When the crops begin to turn and the evenings get a little cooler, something in me feels grounded.

Growing up on a farm, harvest was one of my favorite times of year. I loved heading to the fields—delivering lunches, helping move equipment, making parts runs, riding along in the combine, or simply waiting in the truck with my mom, dad, one of my brothers, or my sidekick: my little sister.

I can still remember the smell of combine dust mixed with the crisp air and changing leaves. There was something special about those long days, the work, the conversations, the songs on the AM radio, and knowing everyone was pitching in toward the same goal.

Life looks a little different now. I still visit the farm where I grew up and spend weekends at our little camper retreat. And I am still lucky enough to see my 92-year-old dad in his element during harvest—finding ways to make the work easier for everyone else by providing another set of hands, and wheels.

Recently, this photo my nephew shared with his wife and daughter in the combine and grain cart made me smile and triggered this post. So proud of those ladies and all they do because the biggest machine I ever ran was the lawn mower, I was more of a kitchen apprentice, and probably better known for keeping people fed than keeping equipment moving.

Still, those photos bring back a lot of memories.

To say I am proud of my country and small-town roots is an understatement. It is probably why I moved to the “big city” for a whopping six months before returning to the comfort and familiarity of small-town life.

I remember lying awake at night wondering how I would get to work if my car would not start or if I had a flat tire. I studied snow-removal routes so I knew exactly where I could drive. Later, commuting gave me the blend that fit me best: meaningful work and the small town lifestyle that felt like home.

That is also why I have chosen to focus my work on rural communities and smaller organizations.

Our communities have so much to offer. And, perhaps most importantly, we know how to show up for one another.

In the past month alone, I have watched my community gather for French toast and sausage—one last chance to connect before the lake season officially came to a close. I have watched people rally around a young man seriously injured in a football game. And I have seen neighbors step in to harvest a farmer’s crop while he faces cancer.

That is rural strength.

Small communities do great things. We build pools and recreation facilities. We sustain local businesses. We support schools, clinics, EMS services, churches, and community organizations. We create places where people can raise families, care for neighbors, and make a difference.

But none of that happens by accident.

It happens because people volunteer, donate, serve on boards, attend fundraisers, share ideas, write grants, lead projects, and step up when someone needs help.

That is the work I believe in—and that is my why.

Rural communities may be small in population, but they are not small in heart, determination, or possibility.

As harvest continues and another summer season comes to a close, I am especially grateful for the people and places that shaped me—and for the opportunity to support communities that continue to do remarkable things.