08/12/2025
✉️ A letter from the parent of a retired stock show kid:
If I could go back,
I’d load that trailer a little slower.
I’d put down my phone and just watch them in the ring a little more often.
I’d worry less about buckles and banners, and more about celebrating who they are.
Because one day, the shirts won’t need ironing.
There won’t be any more entries to submit.
And just like that, the barn will hold only memories.
We spent years there—
Late nights in front of a mirror,
early mornings feeding,
countless hours rinsing and blowing.
Miles on the road,
and even more miles on our hearts.
I’ll be honest—
it wasn’t always easy.
Long nights and short tempers,
tears in the pens.
Sometimes more month than money.
Moments I wondered if it was too much.
If they were missing out on “normal.”
If I was missing out on easier.
But looking back now?
It was worth everything.
Because it wasn’t just about the animals.
It was about raising kids who know how to work.
How to care about something bigger than themselves.
How to win humbly and lose with grace.
And somewhere along the way,
between the first whip
and the last drive home,
I realized—
we weren’t just raising livestock.
We were raising them.
Shaping character in the wash rack.
Building resilience in the ring.
Teaching lessons in grit, grace, and showing up,
even on the hardest days.
So if you're in the thick of it—
the chaos, the cost, the constant go...
Lean in.
Cheer loud.
Say yes to one more show.
One more clinic.
One more picture at the backdrop.
Because one day, you’ll find yourself
passing the fairgrounds with a lump in your throat,
and all that noise you swore was too much
will echo like a song you’d give anything to hear again.
