[title subtitle=”WORDS Stoney Stamper
IMAGES courtesy April Stamper and ccpixx photography/Shutterstock”][/title]
I stand with my arm around Emma’s shoulder, holding her against me as I hear her sniffle. She’s fifteen years old, and this is always the hardest part of showing animals. We watch, as the two pigs that she’s worked so hard with this year, walk down the aisle to “the truck.” The truck, of course, is the truck that will carry them to the processing plant. Months of hard work, exercise, washing and conditioning, have now culminated to this moment. Just the two of us standing there, watching as they disappear onto the truck. It’s sad, of course. But we are Ag folks. We understand that this is how the world works. We donated both of these animals to the Food Bank of Oklahoma, so that their meat will go to feed children in need in Oklahoma. So, although it hurts Emma to know that these pigs won’t be going home with us today, they are going to help people in need. Someone won’t go hungry because she chose to donate them. And that takes a bit of the sting out of watching them take their final walk.
Let me back up a tad. We are at the Oklahoma Youth Expo, otherwise known as OYE to most everyone involved in FFA and 4-H. It’s the largest livestock show on the planet. Thousands and thousands of animals, exhibitors, Ag teachers, moms, dads, and families gather every year in Oklahoma City in hopes of making “the hill.” The show is so large, that it requires a few “sift pens” before you can actually reach the main show pen, or “the hill,” as it’s known. To even get in the top ten in one of these classes is quite an accomplishment. It’s the toughest show you’ll likely ever go to. Countless hours of hard work, blood, sweat and tears are put into these animals. And to be realistic, most of the kids that walk in that show ring are going to get sifted pretty quickly. Most of them won’t make it to “the hill.” So, why do all this for just a few moments in the show ring?
That’s a great question. Some people may look at that as a waste. A waste of time. A waste of money. Lots and lots of money. But to me, it’s the farthest thing from waste. To me, it’s one of the single greatest things from my childhood that I can pass on to my own kids. My grandpa was in FFA and was a premier horse showman, known all throughout the country. My dad and his brothers showed horses, pigs and cattle. My siblings and I showed horses, pigs and cattle, as well. It’s hard work. Getting up early before school to take care of these animals, to keep them healthy, to exercise them and get their hair and skin in perfect shape, it’s a full-time job. It can be a bit aggravating when other kids in your grade are getting together for sleepovers or parties on the weekends, and you can’t go because there’s a pig show that you have to go to that’s three hours away. But the lessons taught in the barn are lessons that will follow you all the days of your life.
On the second day of the show, we were walking one of our pigs down to the wash pens to give her a bath. It can be a bit overwhelming because of all the people and animals that are heading in different directions. The pig got a little nervous and didn’t want to walk to the wash rack. And let me tell you something, if a pig decides they aren’t going to do something, then they probably just aren’t going to do it, and you can’t make them. So, as Emma and I tried to coax the pig into the wash rack, other kids from towns all across the state stepped in to help us. They didn’t know us. They’d never seen us before, and very likely never will again. They had no reason to help us. They just saw someone in need, and so they stepped in to help a total stranger – someone they’d likely be competing against in the next few days. That’s not something you see every day. People helping other people for no reason.
Later in the show, Emma was walking her pig in the show ring, and her pig had some dirt and shavings on its side. She hadn’t seen it yet, and a young man that was showing against her took his brush from his pocket and brushed the dirt and shavings off her pig. He had no reason to do that, except it was the helpful thing to do. It takes me back to my high school days of Ag class, when we were learning the FFA motto. “Learning to Do, Doing to Learn, Earning to Live, Living to Serve.”
Living to serve. I certainly believe that FFA and 4-H gave me a servant’s heart, and I know so many others that could say the same. And I see it in my girls, Abby and Emma. Eager to help and serve those around them. Agriculture, FFA, showing animals…it isn’t just about winning. Sure, winning is nice – it’s what we shoot for. But in the bigger picture, whether we won first place or last, it isn’t what we focus on. We focus on making our children better people. We focus on molding them into responsible, hard working adults. Nothing makes me prouder than seeing my fifteen-year- old daughter jump up to help someone without being asked. That fills my heart with pride much more than any blue ribbon or premium sale.
Living to serve. I know not all people are raised as I was, on a ranch, with agriculture literally all around them. And that’s perfectly ok. But I do wish that everyone could be taught this motto, and learn how fulfilling it can be to live to serve. At the end of the show, as we began to pack and load all of the show supplies, feed, buckets, and everything else that goes into showing these animals, I was carrying a sack of feed out to the truck with my signature limp, a result of a car wreck a few years ago. Two young men I’ve never met saw me struggling, and they jump up immediately. One of the young men says, “Sir, may I take that for you? Let me help.” The other young man asks what else needs to go out to the truck. I show him our pile of supplies, and he and the other boy load them all in my truck in a fraction of the amount of time it would have taken me. I thank them both for their help. They make sure there is nothing else they can do for me, I shake their hands, and then they go on about their business. They didn’t want anything or expect anything for their help. They just live to serve.
So, as I hold Emma against me, and as little tears roll down her cheek as we send this year’s projects on down the road, I feel sad for her, but I also feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Six months of hard work, early mornings and late nights, countless baths and hair conditioning, vaccines and medicine for coughs and runny noses, all of it ends right here. Emma looks a bit downtrodden, and she says, “I wish I would have done better at this last show.” But I look at her, and having to hold back tears of pride, said, “Babe, you couldn’t have done any better. You did perfect.” And of course, I think back to yesteryear when my dad told me the same thing, and how aggravated it could make me. But now I understand. It really wasn’t about winning, after all. It was about learning to do, doing to learn, earning to live, and living to serve. And in that regard, she definitely won.
Stoney Stamper
Stoney Stamper is the best-selling author of My First Rodeo: How Three Daughters, One Wife, and a Herd of Others Are Making Me a Better Dad (WaterBrook) and author of the popular parenting blog The Daddy Diaries. He and his wife, April, have three daughters and live in Oklahoma, where they are heavily involved in agriculture and raise and show a variety of animals.
