Decemeber may be the darkest time of the year in Northern Minnesota, but the third week of January is the coldest.  It seems to come without fail every year, those bitter winds and cold temps, combined with the clear cold sky of January.

Typically, it is the clear skys that scare you the most.  Cloud cover means that the heat will stay trapped by the surface, a clear blue sky means that the cold is there, and likely their to stay for a while.  And we can get those cold days in February, but the longer days as the sun fights a little longer in the winter sky each day means that the cold snaps might be colder, but rarely last as long.

In northern Minnesota, you learn to live with the cold.  You put on extra layers.  You plug in cars and tractors.  Your body adjusts.  But sometimes, those cold snaps will sap you of your strength regardless what you do, and with cattle to feed and chores to do, failure to fight the cold was not an option.

The coldest January that I remember was in 1994.  I was a senior in high school.  Mom and Dad were spending most of their time in Fargo as Mom was fighting cancer.  My sister and I were holding down the home front and the cold snap hit.

It was cold.

For five days, the temperature didn’t get above -20F, and I mean that for the high.  The lows at night ranged from -25F to -40F.  And there was a cold, bitter north wind that cut through anything that man created.

You have to be careful in that type of cold.  The cattle outside still need to be fed.  You need to watch them carefully, but you also don’t want to rouse them too much as they need all of their energy for heat.  You have to make sure that the tractors are working, that they are plugged in right.  You need to make sure there is fuel in the furnace in the house.  Dry gloves and socks are a must.

The one thing that you can’t control was the barn.  Though well insulted, especially with over half a years worth of hay upstairs, the cows provided the natural heat.  Thirty cows living side-by-side normally kept the barn a comfortable 45F to 65F all winter.

Except during those extreme days of cold.

A normal chore throughout the winter was walking through the barn and making sure that all of the cows had their self waterers (drinking cups) in good working order and thawed out.  If they were froze, usually on the west and north side of the barn, it required a pail of hot water, a dipper, and some rags to get it thawed out.  It was a cold, wet job.

Those January days in 1994 were some of the coldest that I remember.  I missed over two days of school as I fought the cold.  Because if the temperature dropped below freezing, the pipes in the barn would freeze and the cattle would have nothing to drink.

All week, it was get up, do chores, milk cows, thaw pipes, try to find a way to keep the heat in the barn, eat, thaw pipes, do chores, milk, thaw pipes, try to find a way to keep the heat in the barn, eat, sleep, and repeat the next morning.

As miserable as that time was, as cold as my fingers still get today from the frostbite and and cold suffered back then, the one thing that endured, was hope.  January doesn’t last forever, the next warmfront would move in, the sun would win the battle, and the cows did survive. 

What a lesson, what a time.  One that I would never give up.

Growing up with three older brothers, life could be pretty competitive.  While we were different ages and size, the competition still came through.

“You might have gotten the Jim Martin Award for Youth in Dairy Farming, but I got it before you!” claimed by older brother Jaime.

“Oh yeah, well you both might have gotten the Jim Martin Award, but I got the first one ever awared.” said my next brother Jack.

“Oh yeah, well I KNEW Jim Martin.” Said my oldest brother Tom.

Ranked number four in the pecking order, it was pretty hard to compete.

Sometimes that competitive spirit could get us stuck.

My two oldest brothers both bought new vehicles about the same time.  My oldest brother Tom bought a new Ford Explorer.  My second brother Jack bought a new Chevy pickup.

If that isn’t a recipe for extreme competition, I don’t know what is.  Brother versus brother.  Ford versus Chevy.

We were all home in the dead of winter.  Coming home from Church on a Sunday, my Dad, Mom and us two younger boys were the first in the drive way.  About ten minutes later, my brother John came home in his new pick up with my little sister in riding shotgun, with my oldest brother coming right behind him.

Jack decided to do a little four-wheeling to show just how good his Chevy was.

The plan was simple, drive off the driveway into the lawn, do a quick loop and back up on the driveway all to the amazement of my Ford driving brother behind him.  Ha!

Good plan.  Execpt for the fact that the driveway was the high point and the snow was level or higher then the driveway, so the snow Jack was driving in was about four feet deep.

He made it about five feet off the driveway.

My sister was mad.  Ten years old.  Frilly dress.  Dress shoes.  Climbing out of the window of a Chevy pick up truck into knee deep snow.

The rest of us were all entertained, especially as the once proud Chevy owner hooked the chaines on his truck and onto my brother’s Ford Explorer.

Christmas seems to arrive about Halloween and leave about eight o’clock in the morning December 25th.  Once the presents are opened and the family is together, the tree, wreaths, crib, and other trappings and trimmings seem to loose their luster.  We have new gifts.  The shopping is done.  The gifts are opened.  Whew.

As a child, I remember my mother forbidding us from taking down the Christmas decorations until after the first weekend in January.  When most other houses had their Christmas trees on the curbs and garbage heaps, our still proudly stood in the living room.

And we never questioned Mom about, for we knew the answer.  Christmas starts Decemeber 25th, but it really doesn’t end until the Epiphany.

Cultural norms be damned, those decorations were staying up.

Our mother lead a tough life and in matters of the spiritual development, we respected her judgement, even if we didn’t always understand.  Oh, she tried to explain.  The Epiphany was the time when the wise men finally found Jesus.  Not only does it mark the official end of the Christmas season – the time of joy and happiness, but it was when God said to the Gentiles, “Here I Am for you too!” But to a kid, timing is all about the friends and neighors.  Advent – What For?  Christmas tree – why do we need it after New Years?

It actually didn’t strike me until many years later in October – no where near Christmas time, the year after Mom passed away.  I was driving home from college and passing through a small town and noticed a sign that never seemed to be put away – and I always scoffed at as a home to lazy to put away their Christmas decorations.  The sign said “Wise Men Still Seek Him.”

I don’t know why I noticed that sign that day, nor why it struck my heart.  But I noticed how true that sign was, and how very simple minded – or just flat out obstinant I was.  The Feast of the Epiphany, the visit of the three kings to the manger, how wonderfully symbolic.  We cannot comprehend nor know the wonders of God, but how hard do we truly try to know God?  How often do we Pray?  Or medidate upon his word?  Two thousand years ago, wise men from the east came to find him, if we say he resides in our hearts, do we even know what type of home we make for him? .

I still don’t do the things I should.  The cultural norms at Christmas still say celebrate earlier and clean up sooner.  I am a sinner through and through.  But my tree stays up.  And the Epiphany makes me stop and think – Wise Men Seek Him Still.

I have always been big.  Call me husky.  Call me big boned.  Call me fat.  But part of that bigness was strength.  Our society is changing today, but even at the age of six, I didn’t know many of my classmates that were feeding calves morning and night – no small task to make sure that all of the hungry mouths got their fill.  It meant a certain level of enforcement – knocking heads of the calves that wanted to eat the smaller calves’ milk as well.

In first grade, I moved on to feeding the cows.  Each five gallon bucket of feed – a barley, oat, soybean meal, and mineral mix, could feed three cows.  Morning and night – two feedings a day, thirty cows, or twenty buckets of feed per day.

Then there was hay.  Each cow could eat about a bale a day.  Either thrown down from the hay barn above, or stacked on the loader, brought to the barn, and carried in.

There was also the pigs to slop (water and feed), young stock to feed (more five gallon pails of feed), calf pens to pitch (forks of heavy, sometimes sloppy waste), and mangers to clean (try sweeping the left over’s out of the mangers with a broom and carrying them out to the gutters).

Those were the day to day jobs – those don’t include the seasonal making of hay, picking of rocks, or other chores that were required.

Not trying to brag, but those chores made me pretty strong.

Three of the most terrifying moments in my life were fights that I got into.  One with my best friend at the water fountain that I thought knocked out a tooth.  One with an elementary school nemesis.  One with a high school bully that ended with me inching him up the wall of the band room by the throat until someone said – he’s going to kill him.

Watching an old episode of the television show Bonanza where the character Hoss befriends a big but mentally slow and easily angered stranger brought these memories to mind.  As Hoss said, big guys need to take a little more teasin’ and hold their tempers.  In short, with strength comes responsibility.

There is always going to be someone weaker then us.  Physically.  Mentally.  Socially.  Spiritually.  Each of us will have power over someone.  We can use it to build or destroy.  Lets use a little “Hoss” sense.  With that strength, comes responsibility.

At least that is how it seems to this country boy.