12/11/2025
My name’s Jacob. I’m 73, and I’ve been a farmer all my life.
Most people don’t think about farmers on Christmas Day. They think about gifts, family, warm houses filled with the smell of pies and laughter. And they should — celebrations are beautiful.
But out here, Christmas looks a little different.
While the world sleeps in, my day still starts at 4:30 AM.
The cold hits harder in December. The barn doors freeze shut. The tractors take their sweet time waking up. And the animals?
They don’t know it’s Christmas — they just know they need me.
This morning, while church bells rang in the distance, I was out breaking ice in the water troughs with my old steel bar. My gloves were stiff, my breath fogged in front of me, and my back complained louder than usual.
But when the cows lifted their heads to greet me…
when the horses nudged my shoulder…
when the chickens fluttered in that silly, excited way they always do…
I smiled.
People think farmers are tough because of the work.
But truth is — we’re tender because of what we take care of.
After feeding the animals, I walked back toward the house. Snow crunched under my boots. The porch light was glowing warmly — my wife had turned it on for me, like she has for over fifty years now.
Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and pine. She handed me a cup of hot coffee, kissed my cold cheek, and said:
“Merry Christmas, Jacob. Thank you for taking care of everything.”
And that’s when it hit me.
There are thousands of farmers across America doing the exact same thing today.
Before presents are opened.
Before families gather.
Before roads are even safe to drive.
They are out there in the cold, tending to animals, checking fields, fixing fences, protecting the very things that feed the country.
No holiday off.
No applause.
Just quiet, steady responsibility.
People don’t see those early morning hours.
They don’t see the frostbitten fingers or the long nights spent nursing a sick calf.
They don’t see the fields covered in snow — and the hope inside a farmer’s heart that next year will be a good one.
But farmers aren’t looking for credit.
We just want the world to have enough.
So on this Christmas Day, I hope people pause for a moment before their meals — no matter what’s on the table — and think about the hands that made it possible.
Hands rough from work.
Hands cracked from cold.
Hands that still offer so much love to the land.
To every farmer across this country:
Merry Christmas.
Thank you for waking up early, staying up late, pushing through storms, droughts, long seasons, short harvests, and countless challenges most will never see.
Because without farmers, the world doesn’t eat.
And without love, a farmer’s heart doesn’t beat.
