The Childhood I Didn't Know I Wanted for My Daughters

Finding beauty in the slow, messy, and unexpected life of raising three girls on a farm.

There are moments when I look out the window and see my three girls running around the farm, their shoes covered in dirt, their hair a mess, and their laughter carrying across the yard. Sometimes they're chasing ducks, sometimes they're following their dad around, and other times they're finding something to argue about because, well, they're sisters. I find myself thinking, this is a childhood I never knew I wanted for them.

Growing up near Omaha, I wasn't raised in the middle of cornfields, surrounded by cattle, tractors, and the constant rhythm of farm life. I knew a different kind of childhood. And while I have wonderful memories of the way I grew up, I never imagined that one day I'd be raising three little girls in rural Nebraska, married to a farmer, with our lives revolving around planting, harvest, calving, and whatever else the farm throws our way.

If you had asked me years ago what I pictured for my future family, I'm not sure this would have been my answer, but God has a way of writing stories we never would have thought to write ourselves. Sometimes, the life we didn't plan becomes the one we're most grateful for.

A Childhood That Looks Different Than Mine

There are things my daughters experience that I never did growing up.

They know what it means when Dad is working late because the weather is changing and there's a field that needs to be finished. They understand that sometimes our plans depend on whether a cow decides to have her calf, whether the equipment is cooperating, or whether rain is coming.

They know that a quick trip to check cattle can turn into an afternoon adventure. That a ride in the tractor is sometimes the best way to spend time with Dad. And that the farm doesn't stop just because it's a holiday, a weekend, or someone's birthday. Those things still get celebrated, but sometimes they don't happen that day.

They are learning that animals need to be cared for even when it's cold, muddy, or inconvenient. That food doesn't simply appear on grocery store shelves. That the fields surrounding our home represent months of work, uncertainty, prayers, and faith.

More than anything, they're learning that life doesn't always revolve around what we want to do. Sometimes, we have to do what needs to be done. While they might not appreciate those lessons right now, I pray that one day they'll recognize the value in them.

The Beauty in the Ordinary

I think one of the easiest things to do as a mother is overlook the beauty of the life we're living because we're so busy trying to keep up with it. There are days when I feel like all I do is pick up toys, wash laundry, prepare meals, break up arguments, and remind someone for the hundredth time to put their shoes away.

The farm adds its own layer of unpredictability. There are evenings when supper gets pushed back, plans change at the last minute, and I'm handling bedtime alone because my husband is still working. Sometimes, if I'm being completely truthful, I wish things were a little easier.

I wish we could plan a weekend without checking the weather or the farm schedule. I wish harvest didn't mean so many evenings apart. I wish there weren't seasons when it feels like we're constantly trying to fit family time into the small spaces between responsibilities. Then, I watch my girls climb into the tractor with their dad, their faces lighting up like they've been invited on the greatest adventure.

Or I see them running across the yard, completely entertained by something that didn't cost a penny.

I'm reminded that the things I sometimes see as inconveniences may become some of their favorite childhood memories. They won't remember whether the laundry was folded or whether the house was perfectly clean, but they might remember riding along during harvest, helping with chores, collecting eggs, or sitting around the supper table listening to their dad talk about his day.

They might remember the freedom of running barefoot through the yard, the excitement of new calves, and the way the farm looked when the sun was setting over the fields. I hope they remember a home where they were loved deeply, even on the hard days.

Raising Girls Who Know Their Strength

One of the things I love most about raising daughters on a farm is the opportunity they have to see strength in so many different forms. They see their dad working long hours, fixing things that break, caring for animals, and doing whatever needs to be done to provide for our family.

I also want them to recognize the strength it takes to be a woman. I want them to know that strength isn't always loud. Sometimes it looks like showing up when you're tired. Sometimes it means caring for someone else when you have a hundred things on your own plate. Sometimes it's admitting you need help, standing up for what you believe in, or choosing kindness when it would be easier to be unkind.

I want my daughters to know they can be gentle and strong. That they can love pretty dresses and muddy boots. That they can be nurturing and independent. That they don't have to fit into someone else's definition of what a girl should be. I want them to understand that their worth will never be measured by how much they accomplish, how they look, or what the world expects of them.

Their worth was established long before they ever took their first breath.

Psalm 139:14 reminds us:

"I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." — Psalm 139:14, KJV

My prayer is that they grow up knowing they were created intentionally, with gifts, personalities, and purposes that are uniquely theirs. Whether they choose a life on the farm or pursue something completely different, I hope they carry those truths with them, because as much as I love this life for them, I never want them to believe they have to live the same life I did to make me proud.

The Lessons That Can't Be Taught in a Classroom

There are lessons my daughters will learn in school, from their teachers, and through their friendships. There are other lessons that I believe this life will teach them in ways I never could. They'll learn patience when the garden doesn't grow as quickly as they hoped. They'll learn responsibility when the animals depend on them. They'll learn that hard work doesn't always produce the outcome we expect, no matter how much effort we put into it.

They'll experience disappointment when something they've worked for doesn't turn out the way they wanted. They'll learn that we can prepare, plan, and do everything within our control, but ultimately, there are things we have to surrender to God.

Perhaps one of the most important lessons they'll learn is that we don't always get to see the results of our work right away.

Galatians 6:9 says:

"And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not." — Galatians 6:9, KJV

There is something beautiful about raising children in a place where the seasons are such a visible reminder of God's timing.

We plant seeds without knowing exactly what the harvest will look like. We care for animals without knowing what challenges tomorrow might bring. We make plans knowing that circumstances can change in an instant. Through it all, we learn to keep showing up, keep working, and keep trusting. Those are lessons I hope my daughters carry into every part of their lives.

It Isn't Always the Picture-Perfect Childhood

I don't want to paint a picture that makes farm life sound like something out of a storybook. Because it isn't. There are long days, missed activities, canceled plans, and moments when I wonder whether we're doing enough.

There are times when my girls wish their dad could be home earlier. Times when I feel stretched thin trying to balance motherhood, marriage, work, and everything else that needs my attention. There are tears, frustrations, sibling arguments, and plenty of days when nobody seems particularly grateful for anything, and there are times when I question whether we're giving our daughters the childhood they deserve.

Are we making enough memories? Are we spending enough time together? Are we teaching them the right things? Are we so busy trying to build a life for them that we're missing the opportunity to enjoy it with them? I think those are questions many mothers wrestle with, regardless of where or how we're raising our children, but I'm learning that a beautiful childhood doesn't have to be a perfect one.

It doesn't require elaborate vacations, expensive activities, or a calendar filled with exciting experiences.

Sometimes, it's built through the ordinary moments we barely notice while they're happening. The conversations in the pickup. The laughter at the dinner table. The muddy clothes piled by the door. The prayers whispered before bedtime.

The moments when we stop what we're doing long enough to really see the little people growing up right in front of us.

A meaningful childhood isn't built by giving our children everything. It's built by helping them recognize the value in what they already have.

The Roots We're Giving Them

As a mother, I spend a lot of time thinking about the women my daughters will become. I wonder what their personalities will be like as they get older. What dreams they'll chase. What challenges they'll face. What kind of friendships they'll build and what paths God will lead them down.

While there are so many things I cannot control about their futures, I can be intentional about the roots we're helping them grow today.

I want those roots to be grounded in faith, not fear. In kindness, not comparison. In gratitude, not entitlement. In the understanding that hard work matters, but so does rest. That family is important, but so is following the calling God places on their hearts.

Proverbs 22:6 tells us:

"Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." — Proverbs 22:6, KJV

That verse doesn't mean our children will never struggle, question, or make choices we wish they wouldn't. It reminds me of the responsibility and privilege we have as parents to guide them while they're still little. We are planting seeds in their hearts every single day.

Through our words, our reactions, our priorities, and the way we treat others.

And just like the crops growing in the fields around our home, those seeds need time, attention, and care. We may not see the full harvest of our parenting for years to come. That doesn't mean the work we're doing today doesn't matter.

The Life I Never Saw Coming

Sometimes I think about the younger version of myself. The girl who grew up near the city, who had plans and expectations about what her life might look like.

I wonder what she would think if she could see me now.

Married to a farmer. Raising three daughters. Living in the country. Planning family activities around planting and harvest. Finding joy in things I never imagined would become part of my everyday life.

I think she'd be surprised. I also think she'd be grateful. Somewhere along the way, God gave me a life I didn't know to ask for. Not a life without challenges. Not a life where everything goes according to plan. A life filled with purpose, growth, and blessings I might have overlooked if things had turned out exactly the way I once imagined.

Now, as I watch my daughters growing up in this place we call home, I realize that maybe one of the greatest gifts I can give them isn't a childhood filled with everything the world says they need. Maybe it's a childhood where they learn to appreciate the simple things. Where they know what it means to work hard, love deeply, and trust God through every season.

Where they have room to explore, make mistakes, get dirty, and discover who they were created to be, and where, no matter how far life eventually takes them, they'll always know they have a place to come home to.

This is the childhood I didn't know I wanted for my daughters, and I wouldn't trade it for the one I once imagined. Not because it's perfect, but because it's ours.

And I'm learning that sometimes God's greatest blessings are found in the life we never saw coming