Life as a farmer is unpredictable. My faith in God gives me strength

This First Person narrative is by Marlis Stewart, who lives in Coldwater, Ont. She worked with CBC producers to structure and transcribe her oral storytelling.

There was an icy nip in the air as I stepped into the barnyard that spring morning to fulfil my duties as the “manure manager” of the farm where my husband and I raise Highland cattle in central Ontario. 

I was well into my morning shovelling routine when my husband popped into my view. 

“Marlis, you have to come and see this,” he said calmly. “Terra is dead in the field.” 

My heart sank, trying to imagine what had happened to one of our pregnant cows. 

We walked through the orchard, went through the gate into the field and walked around to the far side of one of the ponds. Terra was lying on her side, one of her beautiful horns sticking up in the snow. 

It was obvious that she had died while delivering a calf. The placenta was protruding from the birth canal but no calf was to be seen. 

As my husband and I looked around, I saw one of the heifers sniffing something lying on the ground. With a sinking feeling, I realized it was Terra’s calf. The poor thing had frozen to death. Tears welled in my eyes. 

Only 10 days earlier, I had watched another one of our other cows, Yahtzee, give a few good grunts and pushes to deliver a sweet little black bull calf as the sun shone brightly in the unusually warm first part of March. He came out nose first, as he should, as his mama began to moo sweetly at him. 

This is farming. There are good days and not-as-good days. 

There are no guarantees that the weather will co-operate, that illness will not strike or that the crops will grow. 

Despite the challenges of farm life, I’ve become more aware of the many ways God blesses us. I have often said I was living the dream, only it was someone else’s dream because being a farmer was never on my life’s bucket list.

I grew up on the outskirts of Winnipeg. The closest I had come to farm life was visiting friends who lived on farms near Steinbach, Man. 

I had worked as a nurse for many years before running a resort in Port Severn, Ont.,  with my husband while also raising four children. It was a hectic lifestyle and we enjoyed it, but after 20 years, we were both ready for a new adventure. My husband was keen on farming even though he also didn’t have any experience. But he was drawn to the idea of a slower pace of life.

I was intrigued by the idea, so we bought a farm in our mid-50s and my husband completely immersed himself in farm life while I returned to my career in nursing. 

We grew from owning four cows to more than 70 animals, and I reluctantly assisted my husband when needed. 

When we first moved to the farm almost 20 years ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see that many of the agricultural publications that we began receiving had at least one article that addressed the necessity of relying on God’s faithfulness if your family is in this business. 

Christianity was always a part of my life, but my relationship with God has been magnified on the farm.

One Saturday evening, I was left in charge during the calving season. I noticed that one of the recently born calves had been lying on its side for quite some time. It was unresponsive even when its mama would nudge it with her nose. 

I felt nervous about walking through a field with dozens of animals with large horns, so I armed myself with a walking stick with the words “Jesus is Lord” inscribed on the side, grabbed a plastic sled and marched down to where the calf lay at the edge of the furthest pond.

As soon as I picked her up to put her on the sled, she stirred a little and her mama mooed loudly as I began pulling her towards the house. I swung my stick declaring that “Jesus is Lord,” dragged the calf on the sled through the field as many of the cows and other cattle followed me. Somehow, I got the calf into the house and put her in the shower stall. 

By some miracle, with lots of prayers and frequent small feedings, she survived the night. The next afternoon, after proudly telling everyone at church that I had saved a calf’s life, we took the calf back to her mama that was mooing at the gate. The calf immediately started to drink from the mama’s very full udder. 

My husband and I decided to call her Dominique — a fitting name because her survival felt like she was definitely “of the Lord” and his goodness.

As a farmer, I have learned to expect the unexpected. Perhaps that’s why the majority of farmers are religious — more so than the rest of Canadians — and rely on their faith. You have to believe there is some higher purpose at play when so much of life feels uncertain and outside your control. 

It makes us so grateful when we can provide food for ourselves and our community and are able to sit down for a meal that comes from within 100 yards of our kitchen. 

Now that my husband and I are both heading towards our eighth decade of life here on God’s wonderful creation, we are looking forward to slowing down, somehow. 

Farming is hard work but I have come to enjoy the time outside where I get glimpses of God’s character through nature. No matter what lies ahead, we can trust that God is walking alongside us as we go through both the ups and downs of “living the dream” on the farm.

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