Family, Farm, and Faith: The Heart of A-7 Farms
There’s a rhythm to a day here that never gets old — the scrape of boots on gravel, the patter of chicks at your feet, a child’s laugh echoing across the yard. For our family, A-7 Farms is more than animals and chores: it’s where we learn to stick together, even when things don’t go the way we planned.
We don’t have a lot of “perfect” stories. Most of our memories are built through problems we solved together — coops rebuilt after storms, gardens reworked after hungry horses, and flocks we loved and then lost to predators. Those hard seasons bind us tighter. They remind us that when the day ends, we’ve still got each other and the work we’ve done side by side.
The kids’ view of the farm
Each of our children sees the place a little differently — and those small perspectives are everything.
Elijah still talks about Rusty, the rooster who trusted him enough to be petted. Rusty’s bravery — protecting his hens from a predator — left a mark on all of us. Elijah’s dream for the farm? “Cows, so we don’t have to buy milk.” Practical, honest, and grounded in the same provider instinct we feel as parents.
Kyra prefers to watch. She likes to sit on my shoulders while I feed the chicks and whisper that “chickens make me smile.” Her joy is quiet and sure; sometimes being present is all the help the farm needs.
Lyla is our egg collector. She loves that eggs are “small and cute,” the cool, bumpy feel in her hand, and the Goldy chickens, because “they’re golden and sweet.” She wants pumpkins in the garden so we can decorate them together.
Grayson is the playful one — he digs, chases chicks, and tells anyone who will listen about the farm. He jokes about teaching a chicken to do backflips and dreams aloud about another chicken tractor or even a new 2-story house for the farm.
Their voices pepper the hard work with wonder. They’re learning responsibility not from lectures but from doing: gathering eggs, moving feed, and noticing how the land changes with each season.
How fatherhood changed here
For me, the farm slowed me down. I used to move ahead on instinct; now I have to teach, explain, and let the kids try things for themselves. That patience has carried into other parts of life — at work and at home — and taught me that a slower, steadier pace is often the wiser one.
Learning to be present with them has changed my view of legacy. It’s not only about the house or crops we’ll leave behind; it’s about the lessons and habits we pass to our children: to work hard, to care for others, and to keep faith when things go wrong.
Trials that taught us to keep going
Some losses cut deep. We raised a flock the kids named and loved, and predators took them before we’d finished securing their coop. Losing those birds felt like losing family; I questioned whether we should even try again. But as painful as it was, that season taught us to slow down, tighten our systems, and re-commit to doing this right — responsibly and with faith.
Those hard moments also revealed the chickens’ surprising personalities: birds that would climb into your lap, recognize the sound of your steps, or poke around your pockets looking for treats. They are small, but they teach big lessons about care, dependence, and joy.
Closing thought: family, farm, faith
Everything circles back to family, farm, and faith.
Family means being loving and present — never stopping that unconditional love even when life gets hard.
Farm, as Lyla says, means “work and money.” For Elijah and Grayson it’s keeping up with the animals and caring for what’s entrusted to us. For me, it’s home — a place to belong and to build with my own hands.
Faith is the thread that ties it all together: to love one another, trust God’s timing, and keep moving forward.
That’s A-7 Farms: a family rooted in work, grounded in faith, and growing together — imperfectly, steadily, and with hope.
