Reading his obituary, I had forgotten that Don Cain had a thirty year career with Principal Financial.  To me, Don was every bit a farmer.  He was also a neighbor.

I can’t claim I knew him well.  I did know that when we visited, he wore his concern for others on his sleeve. Because of this, I viewed him as a kind man.

I remember working for Don the evening after his daughter’s funeral.  He had come to check on my progress.  I expressed to Don my condolences.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t talk about it,” Don responded softly.  “I won’t be able to keep it together, but I do want you to know I appreciate your saying something.”  Even in the loneliness of his grief, Don’s thoughts turned to me.

Don had battled cancer.  He had fought it a long time.  That fight had come to an end.

The morning of Don’s funeral, I was hurriedly checking cows, thinking about all that needed to be done on the farm as well as the commitments I had made away from it.  Most farm families, hell most families, know what I am talking about.  The daily need to pay bills runs headlong into the need to live a life of meaning filled with the things money can’t buy.

The homily that day was given by the parish priest at St Patrick’s Irish Settlement, Fr. Thomas Dooley.  It was a simple homily, reflective of the man whose life it celebrated.  It felt like it was for everyone, and at the same time, it felt like it was just for you.

“One of the last times I visited with Don,” Fr. Dooley began, “I found him to be, shall we say, perturbed.  People were stopping by his house, asking what it was they could do for him.  Don didn’t know how to handle that.

‘It’s me, Father, who should be doing something for them,’ he told me.

No, Don, I said, you’ve done enough.  It’s time to let others be Christ to you.

We, like wheat, live, die, and are planted in the ground.  So was Christ.  On the third day, He rose again.

In the Gospel today from John, we hear Christ tell us that he who loves his life will lose it, and He talks to us about wheat.  It’s a crop Christ often uses to remind us about the real purpose of life.  We are to bear fruit.

Don is now with Christ.  This gives us comfort. Yet, we are also reminded of the seeds he sowed here for his family and our community.  So I ask you this morning, what are you sowing?

When Don came up to receive Holy Communion, there were often tears in his eyes.  Tears of joy in receiving the Eucharist and tears that stemmed from whether or not he was worthy to.”

Looking at his casket, Father conuded, “Yes, Don.  You are worthy.”

I’ll listen to an agricultural podcast.  Frequently, it mentions farming is a business, not a lifestyle.  I both get what they mean and get upset by it at the same time.  If I know somebody who views farming as a lifestyle, I can’t think of them now.

I do know those whose sharp pencil is admirable when it comes to raising a crop of grain or livestock.  I’ve been further blessed, however, to grow up and live in a place where the business of farming is understood more than just in profit or loss.  It’s the business of faith, family, and community.

Since the Irish Settlement was founded, a lot of those original families no longer farm.  They aren’t the less because of that.  Instead, the rest of us are the greater, for they sowed a crop that still bears fruit today.

Today, we stand with those who sow still, in joy, through doubt, in trying to make ends meet and in trying to live a life of meaning. It bring us joy and may we prove our own selves worthy.