I used to wonder who would come to my funeral. I’ve attended many, many funerals myself, and wondered who would return the respect when it came time.

I was born an only child, and have remained that way for 39 years. I think it prepared me in many ways for the life I was destined to live. I never recall being lonely. I suppose I would call myself self-motivated, because if I wanted to do something, I did it myself. I vacationed alone before getting married, because I wanted to see places, and I wanted to see certain things in those places, so I didn’t want to be encumbered by someone who didn’t. Still, to this day, if I want to dine in a certain restaurant, or watch a particular movie, I’ll just go and do it alone if I know it’s something Shug or my assorted friends aren’t interested in, or have the time to go and do.

My very good friend Megan and I founded an “Environmental Club” around fifth grade or so to raise awareness about the effects of Champion Papermill’s pollution into our local water sources. We sent a petition and collected water samples and the whole nine yards. Bookish would be a polite way of saying I was a nerd, but nerd fits the bill accurately. I stayed out of trouble through my younger years, never “smoked no dope”, never broke into anybody’s house or was anywhere I wasn’t supposed to be. I was a good kid. I hardly ever missed a day of school. When I was 17, I graduated high school, the club a dim memory. I had already applied for college, and was accepted at all those which I applied (nowhere spectacular, my standards were relatively low). And I went, because that’s what girls did who were brought up in my day and age in my hometown.

Turn the page.

I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be an English major. But God said, “Take Agriculture classes.”

And so, even though I felt like a fish out of water for a little while, I did. Farmers believe in sustainable agriculture, because if you take care of the land, it takes care of you. Farming and the environment go hand in hand. I learned about different kinds of soils, and which crops would grow best in loamy, clay, or sandy conditions. I learned about vaccinating cattle. I learned fractions. Again. I broadened my knowledge on horse management and I found that people enjoyed reading what I wrote, especially about farms I visited.

And I graduated. I had my degree in Agriculture, which, admittedly, felt a little useless in this part of the state. I went to work for the Co-op, where I flourished. It is also where I withered.

I worked at Co-op for a long time. I met my husband there, I met a great many influential people of the county there. Nobody cared what kind of degree I held, or if I even had one. They just wanted me to tell them what to feed their livestock to make them gain weight, have healthier babies, or go faster. During my years behind the counter, I saw many people get promoted that I felt didn’t deserve it. Not to say these hires didn’t work hard. They kept their noses polished-but not always by the grindstone. But still yet, I stayed. Out of loyalty as much as anything, but also out of fear of the unknown. As the years passed, clientele changed drastically. My skin thickened. I made some lasting contacts through the extensive customer base I had cultivated. Many patrons became friends. They came from all walks of life. Some were on the agriculture end, some were owners of bars and farmed on the side. Some supplimented their income by raising dogs. Some just liked to come by Co-op and see what they could find.

I watched many people I had gone to school with move on to have successful careers and “good” jobs. These contemporaries couldn’t spell their way out of a 1st grade spelling bee, judging by their Facebook posts. It ate at me. Occasionally I took a work trip to a worthy location, but for the most part, I floundered away behind the sales counter, ordering horseshoes and talking ruminant nutrition. God told me, “Be still.” So I was still. My husband had a good job. I didn’t need for a thing. It was just hard.

I continued with my best behavior, even though it seemed virtually everyone around was doing something they weren’t supposed to be. I remained a square. I paid my bills on time, and established solid credit. ‘Cause Lord knows I couldn’t afford nothing on my salary! I rarely missed work, mainly because I couldn’t afford to, but also because I never had a good enough excuse. Except snow. I don’t do well in snow, regardless of my four wheel drive.

Turn the page.

Through one of my many influential customers, I was offered a spot on the library board. And because I’m a nut about books and libraries, I took it. Because God said I should, even though it was strange and new and I felt out of place and superfluous. Because if you’re going to be a member of the community, you should serve your community. You should make an effort to make it better. In the very least, you should know some people and what makes it tick.

And there I met many more wonderful people that continue to shape me.

The squarest square.

Turn the page.

So when the opportunity arose to leave for a job that had a better schedule with an improved salary, I would like to say I leaped for it. But I didn’t. God said, “Go, child.” So, with His hand on my back pushing, I went.

Turn the page.

And it was fine. I made some money, I made some new friends, and I grew some dang thick skin. I was resolved to make a go of it, even though I felt utterly useless most of the time. I stuck it out. I wasn’t changing lives, but how many people really are? I wondered how long I had to pay my dues. I watched more friends on Facebook be promoted in their line of work, start their own businesses, succeed. But I was fine. I had a good job. The owners were wonderfully generous with me. I worked hard and proved I was worthy, and they reciprocated. As an added bonus, I got to wear my wildest leggings and nobody batted an eye. Well, that’s only partially true. But they gradually became accustomed to them. Brian did liken me to Rainbow Brite crossed with the Star Spangled Banner one time. Brian the estimator was my sounding board, the one I could argue with and laugh with half a second later. He drove me batty, but kept me sane. He was my biggest cheerleader and I give him all the credit for getting me through so many difficult days when I wanted to collect my turtles and never look back. I also became close with Roxy, my Knoxville counterpart. We worked together like a greased gear. She understood all the problems that come with running an office and dealing with a bunch of gruff men. I got the job because I had fire, but I felt like it was weakening with each passing hour.

Then one day, God said, “What about this, child?” And he placed a job right there in my lap. I had no choice but to pick it up. And I asked, “Where did this come from, Lord?”

And He showed me.

He played for me a reel of images from years spent at the Co-op, smiling at my favorite farmers, handing them a ballot at the annual meeting, or their blend sheet, or a packet of okra seed. He showed me a series of portraits of myself patiently helping patrons select a herbicide, or talking to them about when to plant rye for optimal yields. He kept them coming, thousands of times I recommended a blackleg vaccine, counting terramycin pills, hunting the fly rubs in the rat and spider infested warehouse, and ordering a delouse spray brand new to the market. He knew every shear bolt I plucked from the cabinet and every rake tooth I tried to label because the new cashiers didn’t know the part number was 22442. He saw me at every funeral for these people I’d come to love. He saw the compassion in my eyes as they told me their stories. Even when I thought I didn’t have time to listen.

He saw me giving it my all in a different pond, learning about chain link fences and how to use Quickbooks. He saw me deciphering what the Spanish guys were trying to tell me, and calling in gas leaks, and wondering how I was going to schedule 8 crews 12 jobs in one week. He saw me wonder why it was so hard to get a confirmation for some material and wonder how someone could be so impatient and indecisive but still be successful.

And so he gave me this. After all these years, he gave me a new job, combining all my cumulative skills from Co-op and secretarial duties from the fencing outfit, with a little bit of my environmental awareness mixed in. I’ll have to be self motivated and entertaining and a gracious hostess to the public at farm related events several times a year. I get to have an impact on the county again, this time in a very straight forward way.

He’s placed me here, and there, and here again. And now I see why I am all the things I am.

I don’t deserve all these blessings. But God saw fit, and who am I to argue? So as I have struggled, the greater plan has now been revealed. I had to grow my knowledge, and get my husband, and learn all the things about the whole county to be ready for this. I had to meet all the people and shake all the hands and give them my trademark smile with a dose of wit. I was always myself. I didn’t cater and bow to anyone, no matter how important they thought they were. I treated them well, until they treated me rudely. I had to be able to pass an invasive federal background check, complete with fingerprinting (it was digital, I felt like I was on CSI), a credit check, and a drug test, and things I probably don’t even know about were scrutinized. I’m a division of the USDA. The position required someone who was self motivated and who could be trusted with minimal supervision. Being an only child made me a perfect candidate. I am nothing if not self entertaining.

Co-op wasn’t a lot of things for me, but it certainly influenced my life in a thousand different ways. The saying is true: Life really IS what you make it. Sometimes it just takes awhile.

I had been interviewing for the last 15 years with the entire board of my new job. The ones who needed to know me have watched me all this time, in every situation.

And they still picked me.

And I am grateful. I just wish I could tell Joe Woods my good news.

I helped my farmers for over a decade, and in turn, they returned the favor of a lifetime. And now, I get to help them again.

I think these five would attend my funeral if it didn’t interfere with their farmin’.

Turn the page.