In a Moment of Time

This month marks 20 years since my husband lost his right arm because of a farm accident. My husband is not a careless person. In fact, some of his co-workers ribbed him about the precautions he took and expressed shock when the guy they least expected to have an accident had one.

The conveyor belt on a live-bottom trailer moves thousands of pounds of potatoes with the aid of rollers. (If you’re familiar with old-fashioned ringer washing machines or those wringers they use at the car wash to squeeze your chamois, you’ll understand the concept.) When Jon reached up from beneath the belt to brush away accumulating clods of dirt that were causing the belt to off-centre, his glove got too close to the rollers. They grabbed his glove and pulled his hand through, holding it in place while the rollers skinned his forearm. In the time it took coworkers to shut off the motor, his arm was damaged beyond repair and surgeons amputated it later the same day.

A split second was all it took. 

Did Jon know the power of that equipment? Sure he did. It just wasn’t the foremost thought on his mind in that moment. It happens to all of us, but sometimes it’s a lot more costly than other times.

I’m glad to report that in the next generation of this particular piece of equipment, the designers modified it to make reoccurrence of this accident less likely for someone else. But the farm environment will always involve serious equipment, chemicals, and other hazards that can trip up workers in a weak moment.

Last month, the Daily Graphic ran a farm safety article submitted by Manitoba Agriculture, Food, and Rural Development (MAFRD) which included a long list of tips for avoiding the shortcuts and unsafe practices that can go along with the fatigue and stress surrounding harvest time. You can locate it here: www.portagedailygraphic.com/2015/08/13/stay-safe-during-harvest

I’d like to encourage you to find that list, print it out, and post it around your farm. Take the tips seriously and don’t allow any farm workers to brush them off. The few seconds they might gain by hopping off a piece of still-moving equipment or by not performing a walk-around check to ensure no one is nearby before taking off will never be worth a loss that can affect the rest of their life. Ask any member of the Manitoba Farmers with Disabilities. Although my husband has learned to manage admirably well without his right arm, please don’t think for an instant that he wouldn’t give almost anything to go back and do that one moment differently.

And if you have experienced a serious work-related accident, or if someone has been badly injured at your own farm, please forgive yourself. Mishaps occur even when all precautions are followed. One freak accident does not make you a stupid person or an uncaring employer. (We’re grateful for an employer who kept Jon on staff and treated us very well.)

Nor does it mean you should quit. If farming is your passion, then farming is what you should do. A poem called “The Dignity of the Farmer” (author unknown) includes these words: “The farmer’s calling is among the noblest in all the world…The successful farmer is the one who produces more than he needs, and thus helps others to eat and prosper. The farmer should recall all this…in grateful appreciation of the calling God gave him as a tiller of the soil.”

Remember, farming is everybody’s bread and butter. So for those of you who pray, pray for a safe harvest this year, whether you’re in agribusiness or not. I’d just as soon other families don’t have to mark anniversaries they’d rather forget.

A Disarming Anniversary

As of next week, I have been married for 36 years, half of them to a right-handed man and half to a left-handed one. I suppose you could argue it’s the same man. Like greatness, some people are born left-handed and others have left-handedness thrust upon them.

Many families can name a day that slashed a giant mark across their life’s timeline, forever dividing “before” from “after.” For us, it was September 29, 1995: the day Jon lost an argument with a piece of farm machinery and subsequently, his right arm. 

Once, after we described this before-and-after concept in a group setting, a friend nodded knowingly, then embarrassed herself by calling the event “The Great Cut-Off.” We all laughed wildly and learned laughter really can help.

To prove it, Jon’s been known to accuse long-winded people of talking his arm off.

I once told my husband he’d make a great magician because he has nothing up his sleeve. 

And when he took too long in Polo Park one day, I threatened to leave him behind, reasoning he could hitchhike home since he still had a thumb.

I know. Be quiet. 

Did you know there are actually advantages to being left-handed? Everyone knows you can’t sit left of a lefty at the dinner table, or you’ll bump elbows. Smart southpaws use this to their advantage to gain a spot with more space. 

Apparently, many more words can be typed solely with the left hand than with the right.

And southpaws also have an easier time writing in Hebrew because it’s written from right to left. How handy is that?

However, finding advantages to being one-handed proved a greater challenge. But if he ever visits Belarus, where clapping is outlawed because dissidents use applause as a form of protest, it is unlikely Jon will be arrested. Good to know.

This photo appeared with an article in our local paper four months after the accident.

Two days after his accident, we celebrated our 18th wedding anniversary in the hospital. I remember falling asleep that night with the words of our marriage vows running through my head: “For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part.” I particularly focused on the “for worse…for poorer… in sickness” sections. In the following weeks and months, all three would surface, but death had not parted us yet and for that, I was grateful. Neither of us knew there would be ugly days ahead when we would wish it had. I won’t lie to you—it sucks. 

But the God who promises to walk with us through the dark valleys keeps his word. In those early days, a peace settled over our home that can only be the result of hundreds of prayers raised on our behalf. We gained a new reverence for life, more gratitude for community, and a deeper perspective on what matters. We grew closer as a family and felt ourselves carried along by a sweet spirit. Supportive friends and strangers blessed us in countless practical ways. I like to think our kids are more kindhearted people because this happened to us.

Would we get Jon’s arm back if we could? In a heartbeat.

 

But it’s been my bittersweet privilege to observe a man grow in his faith when he might have scorned it forever. Where he could display bitterness, I’ve seen him instead demonstrate compassion toward fellow strugglers because everyone carries their burden of seen and unseen pain. I’ve watched him tackle the daily challenges of one-handedness in a two-handed world with patience, determination, courage, and grace. I am certain I would not have done as well, and I am proud of my lefty.

Happy Anniversaries, Jon. And safe harvest, everyone.