My sophomore year of high school, I went through a rough patch where I had my very first heartbreak. Now, take a moment and think about how terrible that age is and how everything is intensified by a million. As you can imagine, I thought it was the end of my world. Who was I to realize that my world was just beginning? I remember sitting in the cafeteria, not eating due to my broken heart, and the guy across the room must have taken pity on me. He left his friends to join mine, sat by me, and the only thing said was, “Okay, what happened?”.

What happened was I fell in love for the country boy whose hands are always stained with the wear and tear of the long day. Nearly 8 months after he took my broken heart into his hands, we made it “Facebook official” during my junior year of high school. Here I am as a senior in college, writing this article strictly about that same boy who told me it was all going to be okay almost six years ago. I began dating my best friend, my farmer, my mechanic and the only person in the world who supports my terrible ideas. The farmer boy I don’t appreciate enough. Here is what I, and all the victims to the heart of those farmer boys, should say more often.

I usually dread the beautiful spring and fall weather. That means a few thing for us—you’ll get whisked away in the hard work of what the fields will ask of you. The weekends are always the worst. He gets to work at about eight in the morning, or earlier. I usually hear from him around eleven at night, or later. For less than 2% of the world able to be farmable, I appreciate your time working in those fields. Even though I miss you, you are doing a pretty great thing.

I don’t tell you near enough how much I appreciate your helpful hand and strong working back. I usually give you such a hard time whenever you drop everything for everyone else to go help them. I’m sure you get tired of hearing me talk about how “It’s not fair that they get your attention and I don’t. . .". You smile at me whining and tell me I am right, but we all know I am so wrong. Thanks for never actually admitting I am wrong. You may not notice, but the way the town knows you says so much to my heart. You’re always helping others. You are so humble when they try to award you. The perspective our community has about you is nothing but positive. Every now and then, especially, when you are in trouble, I will hear you mumble, “I know. I am not the greatest guy.”. You make mistakes. That’s okay, because I do too. Yet, you tend to overlook that.

Every girl dreams about getting her prince charming or knight in shining armor. It amazes me that I did one up from that. I was awarded with my prince in a John-Deere, boots, and dirty old hat. My favorite carriage is not one that is pulled by white horses. Instead, the only horse power we can find is under the hood of your pickup truck. I appreciate the way you look behind the wheel. Especially when the smooth black top becomes a rocky road out in the country. George Strait sounds so good in the background of the view that I have from the passenger side. The only way that we make this perfect is if you finally trade in that old Ford for a GMC.

I appreciate you holding up my expectations of adventure. I am positive that if it was up to you, life would be quiet and laid back. Instead, I have these photo ideas of what moment to capture, activities to do after your long day at work, and dates I beg you to take me on. You will roll your eyes, but you are always the first one to step up to the plate. I can’t thank your quiet personality enough for going on the hundreds of adventures I ask you too.

Sunday afternoons are my favorite with you. It’s usually that down time between work and church that always makes it perfect. If making you a hard working guy doesn’t make you amazing, being a man of God does. Whenever we pray together, your hands always find mine. In our own moment of time, we are before God and I know, undoubtedly, He is relieved that no future action needed to be taken to draw our hearts together. The way you cherish me, my family, and your own can only be described from the Bible itself.

I have been told that the secret to love is to read 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. Every time I read the word “love”, I am supposed to replace it with your name. So, my hard working man, “You are patient, you are kind. You do not envy, you do not boast, you are not proud. You do not dishonor others, you are not self-seeking, you are not easily angered, you keeps no record of wrongs. You do not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. You always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. You never fails.” It must mean something when I can’t describe you well enough, but God sure can.

The future seems so bright for us. There are hundreds of hurdles I expect us to hit, but I know they’ll be easy to jump when we are hand-in-hand. You have become my rock, my best friend, and my hero all wrapped up in the same handsome, farmer man. I love you to death, even though I sometimes want to be the cause of your death.