“If at first you don’t succeed, do it the way your mother told you to.” – Anonymous
In 1989, my mother, Barbara Meyer, entered heaven after battling cancer. She was only 70 years old. When her husband and our father, Mark, died, she was a farmer’s wife and homemaker to four children: Ken (16); Don (15); Linda (12); and Jay (9). Overnight, she became a single parent with every family responsibility on her shoulders.
Often she drove the tractor at harvest time while keeping up with all the household chores. In those days southeastern Pennsylvania had many small dairy farms but few of them were run by women.
And though she grieved deeply, she demonstrated remarkable optimism and faith. Her strength indelibly marked all who knew her, especially her four children. When machinery broke down or crops failed or water pipes froze or a roof leaked, she shared these inspiring words, “It’s just at the barn.”
She knew and reminded us all that machinery can be repaired; crops can be replanted; pipes can be fixed; and roofs can be resealed. These were just “things;” they were not family – “It’s just at the barn.”
For more than 50 years the echoes of those words continue to impact my life. I remember receiving a phone call from Evie around 1980, a few years after we moved to Minnesota. She was working as a church secretary and each day she parked her car under the canopy at the entrance of the church.
One morning a delivery truck arrived and the top of it hit the canopy. It knocked the canopy off the supports and left a large beam right across the hood of our car. How easy it would have been to be upset but we both immediately remembered my mother’s words, “It’s just at the barn.” Fenders can be replaced. The inconvenience was temporary. Evie was not hurt.
Some years later when our oldest son learned to drive, Evie and I had the normal anxiety, particularly concerned when he began driving on his own. He learned quickly but parents sometimes have a hard time letting go.
We will never forget the day we got the call, “Dad, Mom, I was just in an accident.” The fear of the moment dripped from his voice. He continued, “But no one was hurt.” It was nothing more than a fender bender but with relief and perspective which come with time, we again affirmed, “It’s just at the barn.” Darin was fine.
A few years later our youngest son was riding in a car with one of his college friends. One block from their campus a van ran a stop sign and crashed into their car. This time there was an ambulance and an emergency call. Our hearts froze when we heard, “Your son has been in an accident and is on his way to the hospital in the ambulance. His injuries do not seem serious.”
We rushed to the emergency room. Both boys were strapped to stretchers. Fear was on their faces and in their voices. As the hours went by and the X-rays were read, we learned that both had minor injuries and would be fine. Again we were thankful, “It’s just at the barn.”
Not all of life is “Just at the barn.” My mother learned that and experienced it for 27 years. She could hardly speak of her husband without tears in her eyes. And Evie and I learned it in 1971 when one of our twin sons, Keith, died two days after birth. I have been a son who buried a father and a father who buried a son.
But most days are filled with muddy shoes on the carpet, burned toast, neighbors with noisy children and drivers who cut us off on the freeway.
When those times happen, it will do us well to remember “It’s just at the barn.”
Think about it.Dr. Don Meyer is president emeritus of the University of Valley Forge, Phoenixville. Connect via dgmeyer@valleyforge.edu, Facebook.com/DrDonMeyer, www.DrDonMeyer.com, Twitter and Instagram: @DrDonMeyer.
