Finally! After a period of intense cold, we had hit a bit of a thaw. It was late February, and I was using this window of opportunity to do some cleaning of the barns and feedlot. I was busy moving and piling the thawing manure so I could haul it onto the field with the spreader.

After moving the spreader into position for loading, I stepped into the cab of the Bobcat skid steer. My foot slipped, and I landed flat on my back in a pile of liquid poo. The wind was knocked out of me, and for a bit, I couldn’t move. It was one of those moments when you gasp for air, but nothing comes. I felt the wet, cold liquid seep through my insulated clothes all the way to my skin.

Cows, being the curious animals they are, came to inspect my predicament. I was looking up into those long faces and big noses, just sniffing away at this helpless creature lying in their sewage. Finally, air filled my lungs and my wits returned, enabling me to get up.

As you can imagine, I looked like a hand-dipped ice cream cone. I was a mess! I made it to the house, but there was no way I could go in. Not even into the mudroom. Ruby would have killed me.

Fortunately, we were out in the country and there was no one around, so I stripped down to my undies outside in the cold February air and then made my way inside to a very hot shower and fresh clothes.

Later that day, Ruby returned home. As she looked out the kitchen window, she noticed all my barn clothes hanging on the line. I had to take the garden hose to them before they ever made it to the washing machine. I told her what had happened. I think she appreciated my consideration for the house and its appliances. Once she was certain I had not been injured by the fall, she laughed without much compassion. She’s such a loving spouse, with a great sense of humor!

I believe animal farmers everywhere can identify with this story. I hope you will pardon my frankness, but in life, “poo happens!” There are those moments that come so quickly, you’re left flat on your back, looking up at the sky, gasping for air, and wondering if you’ll ever get up again.

Life just dumped you in “it.”

There’s another thing about brushing up against, or even falling into, “poo”: No one wants to be around you. Just try going to church, a restaurant, or the mall. You’ll be asked to leave quickly. Smelling like the barn is a lonely place to be.

But here are two bits of farmer wisdom for you: 1) What stinks to high heaven and looks useless in one season becomes nourishment in another. 2) Cleaning out the barn and spreading that poo on the field is difficult to hide from those closest to you.

When we’re experiencing the “stinking” moments and seasons of life, it can be a lonely time. People mean well, but they don’t know what to say, what to do, or how to respond. Some may quietly step away. Others try to fix what cannot be fixed. You can’t hang enough air fresheners in a barn to remove the smell—impossible! So, we hang out with the other barn smellers, those who know what it feels like to have the wind knocked out of them and be left lying in the muck.

There’s something else farmers, gardeners, and agronomists know: Once that pile of poo behind the barn gets to the field, an almost imperceptible process begins. What once seemed useless and smelly begins to nourish new life.

Looking back over the years, I’ve discovered that many of the experiences I would never have chosen became part of the soil that shaped me. The losses deepened compassion. The disappointments taught humility. The grief enlarged my heart. What once seemed useless and unbearable eventually became part of the soil from which new life grew.

So, if life has recently dumped you in “it,” don’t lose hope. The season you’re standing in today is not the whole story. Given enough grace, enough time, and the loving presence of God, even the messiest parts of our lives can become soil where something beautiful grows.

The psalmist prayed:

“Restore our fortunes, O LORD,
like streams in the Negeb!
Those who sow in tears
shall reap with shouts of joy!
He who goes out weeping,
bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
bringing his sheaves with him.”

—Psalm 126:4–6 (ESV)