Farmer Resilience

Mental Health in the Pork Industry: Redefining Grit with Maddison Caldwell

Mon, 11 May 2026 13:56:43 GMT

In the stock show world, Maddison Caldwell was the blueprint of a firstborn overachiever: disciplined, organized and a perfectionist. But while she thrived in the black-and-white rules of life, the “gray areas” nearly cost her everything.

In college, she took a mandatory psychology class and realized she related to many of the topics they talked about. Caldwell sought help from her primary care physician, not knowing at the time that specialists existed for what she was feeling.

After months of increasing dosages, she reached a medical ceiling. When her doctor told her it was the maximum dose and ‘sent her on her way,’ she felt she had run out of options. Within five months, she attempted to end her life twice.

Private Pain to Public Hope

When she shared her personal battle in January 2022 , her story stopped being just hers. It became a shared common ground for others fighting silent battles.

“As soon as the article came out, it was like the floodgates opened,” she says. “All of a sudden, complete strangers – even people who weren’t involved with agriculture – of all ages from across the country reached out.”

Although it wasn’t easy to have the most painful moments of her life become table conversation, she doesn’t regret the decision to share it with others.

“This story came out right around the time I was starting my career,” Caldwell says. “I was reporting to an executive at a large company, and one of his coworkers on the executive team asked him, ‘Have you Googled her?’”

(Provided by Maddison Caldwell)

She will never forget when he asked her about it and the conversation that followed.

“He was quite a bit older than I am, and from a generation that didn’t talk about these things,” Caldwell adds. “It was a really uncomfortable and really hard conversation.”

But she believes those conversations are more important than ever.

“Doing things like that bring us one step closer,” Caldwell says. “I hope I never lose the drive to keep being uncomfortable in order to help people.”

Redefining Grit in Agriculture

Agriculture is making progress when it comes to talking about mental health and recognizing the importance of conversation.

“I don’t think we are great at sitting in that uncomfortable state,” she says. “We want to fix it and move on, or minimize it, or work harder and stay busy doing anything that allows us to avoid facing the reality of it.”

She believes it’s time to redefine “grit” in agriculture.

“In my opinion, grit means being honest with ourselves,” Caldwell explains. “I think it means coming to the realization that we need to reach out for help sometimes. It’s about the courage to be vulnerable.”

She also challenges the industry to stop equating grit with silence.

“You cannot pour from an empty cup,” she warns.

In an industry that prizes working until the job is done, Caldwell says the ultimate display of grit is the courage to admit when you’re running on empty.

Warning Signs

With one in five U.S. adults facing mental health conditions and one in five high school students considering suicide, Caldwell isn’t shy about offering advice now.

“One of the things I did was bury myself in work, in being productive, in not taking any time to just stop and ‘smell the roses,’” Caldwell says. “If you notice people withdrawing from activities that they would have once loved, pay attention. If they’re exhausted all the time, if they’re not talking as much, if they use the words ‘I’m fine’ all too often, or if they are pouring so much into other people at their own expense, those could be signs.”

Looking back, she admits it’s hard to recognize herself during those years. Her mindset is much different now. She challenges people to stop shying away from asking hard questions.

“People often think if you say the word suicide, it’s going to put that idea in someone’s mind,” Caldwell says. “Let me be clear that this thought was already in my head when I was struggling. I don’t know what would have happened if someone just blankly asked me if I was thinking about suicide, because that’s not something people talk about.”

Healing Is Not a Straight Line

Today, Caldwell lives by a quote she read early in her recovery process: “When we recover loudly, we keep others from dying quietly.”

“I will shout my story to the rooftops if it means that one person feels less alone in how they’re feeling,” she says.

Healing looks different for everyone, and everyone needs different tools, Caldwell explains. She compares it to going to Starbucks to get a cup of coffee and then realizing you don’t like it.

“Does it mean that you’re going to stop going to Starbucks altogether, or, even worse, stop drinking coffee altogether?” she says. “Absolutely not. Sometimes you just need to go to different places or add in a little sugar here and there based on personal preference. I feel like my healing journey is like that.”

Caldwell says the “gray areas” are still terrifying at times. But she’s learned that true bravery is figuring out how to thrive even when a clear plan isn’t visible. Healing hasn’t removed the stressors in her life, but it has increased her capacity to handle them.

The one thing that has changed in the past six years is her willingness to have uncomfortable conversations and ask hard questions. She is grateful for the family, friends and professionals that support her in doing this.

“Transparency looks different now,” she says. “I can text my mom to just say, ‘It’s not a good day today.’ That’s something I never would have done because I didn’t feel comfortable saying that.”

Stay Beyond the Crisis

Her message to farm families is simple: don’t just show up for the crisis; show up for the recovery.

“Stay to see them thrive,” Caldwell says. “Stay to hear people like my mom say that ‘the light has returned’ in their eyes.”

Maddison’s family members have been a key support to her in the healing journey.

(Provided by Maddison Caldwell)

On the sixth anniversary of being alive after her last suicide attempt, Caldwell lit a candle and blew it out surrounded by her inner circle.

“As I looked around at the simplest of things, I was so grateful,” she says. “I was flooded with all the beautiful moments I have had since that time that I would have missed out on.”

Discover more about Caldwell’s journey – the challenges that would have wrecked her before, the most unexpected people who helped her recover and the joy she finds in her career today – by watching “The PORK Podcast” on YouTube or by listening to it anywhere podcasts are found.

No one has to struggle alone. If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available 24/7. Call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988.

Finding Color Again: A Story of Love, Loss and Healing

Wed, 18 Mar 2026 19:38:27 GMT

It’s true that the pork industry is driven by data and science, but it’s ultimately built on the strength of the people who are in it. Sometimes that strength arises out of the darkest times of our lives. Dan Hamilton, senior director for product performance in the Americas for PIC, experienced a profound tragedy in 2005.

When Hamilton was a student at the University of Illinois, he met Rachel – a dynamic powerhouse who captured his heart quickly. Always the life of the conversation, she made people laugh and brought joy to everyone she was around, he says.

“We couldn’t wait to start our storybook life together,” Hamilton says. “We were young and of the mindset that you set a goal and achieve it. Then, you just keep doing that. We both had successful careers, bought our first house, and decided it was time to have a baby.”

He will never forget the morning when it was time to go to the hospital after nine months of waiting.

“We had the bag packed in the car like you’re supposed to, and the nursery was ready,” he recalls. “We went to the hospital and they took Rachel back. I went with her and they said, ‘You know, her blood pressure is a little bit variable. Why don’t you step out?’”

They told him they were going to get her blood pressure under control before moving on to the next step of the delivery process.

“It wasn’t a few minutes later that a lot of sirens started going off, and they were having some sort of a code event,” Hamilton says. “I wasn’t sure if it was her or what it was, because they had me in the waiting room with no direction. The next thing I know, the doctors were approaching me with a very grim face.”

They sat him down and explained that Rachel died in the delivery room that morning from either an amniotic or pulmonary embolism. A rare, one-in-a-million event, there was nothing the doctors could do to save his wife. In that very same moment, he found out he was the father of a baby girl, Kaitlyn.

Stunned, Hamilton didn’t know what to do next. The doctors were talking about the duress Kaitlyn endured while his heart smashed into pieces.

Black-and-White Memories

Because Kaitlyn experienced a lack of oxygen for a period of time, doctors whisked her off to the neonatal intensive care unit for the first four days of her life to stabilize her respiratory tract.

“I don’t think any dad goes into the hospital thinking he will leave a single father,” Hamilton says. “Not only was I grieving the loss of Rachel, but the stress of how I was going to care for Kaitlyn on my own put me to the limit.”

An outpouring of support from family and friends surrounded him at that moment.

“It’s unfortunate that it takes a traumatic event to realize how many people in the world care,” Hamilton says. “And that continued for years afterward. My parents were really close and they came and spent a lot of time with me. Rachel’s mother had just retired, so she was able to help me with Kaitlyn during the day. She was a godsend for sure. Friends would come on nights or weekends and give me a break when needed.”

When he looks back, he sees that time of his life in black and white.

“Memories are usually in color,” he says. “But that first year was definitely in black and white for me.”

Although watching each step of Kaitlyn’s development was the greatest gift, he says not having Rachel to share it with him was hard. He constantly questioned how he was going to be able to raise a young lady.

“Rachel would have been so good at this,” he says. “I asked a lot of questions. Why did this happen? Why was she taken away from me?”

He learned to stop asking those questions.

“You may never find reason with those,” he says. “Focus on the positive and the good things around you. Be grateful for the people that support you, because that is what God is sending you – the help, support and strength to move forward.”

Be in the Moment

When you’ve gone through a trauma like this, Hamilton says it’s important to take time to heal and reflect.

“My grief for Rachel will always be there,” he says. “I still tear up every time I think about it and it’s been 20-some years. I just want to encourage people walking through grief that someday you can reformulate your life and have positive experiences again. It may not feel like it at first, but there are good things ahead.”

And let people help you, Hamilton adds. People want to help, but don’t always know how to help. He believes letting people in allows both parties to process and that’s a good thing.

“One thing I’ve learned is to be in the moment,” he says.

Don’t let things get out of balance that shouldn’t get out of balance, he adds. For example, your job shouldn’t compromise your relationship with your family. That’s something he takes seriously.

Three years after Rachel’s death, he met his current wife, Carrie, and her daughter. Today they are raising three daughters. Kaitlyn is now a junior at the University of Illinois and doing amazing, he says.

“Looking back at what I went through, there’s always some guilt that I could have spent more time or done this or that,” Hamilton says. “Live your life so you don’t have those regrets as you go forward. You just never know when you’ll get that next chance.”

You can listen to more of Hamilton’s personal story of resilience on “The PORK Podcast” on YouTube or follow The PORK Podcast anywhere podcasts are found.

Leading Through the Storm: How This Mother of Three Navigated a Dairy Transition Alone

Wed, 04 Mar 2026 14:49:22 GMT

In the quiet rolling hills of Franklin County, Pa., near the small town of Newburg, the hum of a dairy farm usually signals the steady rhythm of a dream realized. But a year and a half ago, that rhythm was shattered in an instant. For Kerri Weber, co-owner of Rustik Dairy LLC, a routine day of hoof trimming ended not with the satisfaction of a job well done, but with a frantic 911 call and a prognosis that offered almost no hope.

Her husband, Rob, had suffered a Grade 5 subarachnoid brain aneurysm — the most severe type of rupture possible. As the surgeon told Weber that first night: “All we can do is pray.” She made a silent, steely vow: she was bringing him home.

What followed is a story of perseverance that defines the modern woman in agriculture. It is a story of a first-generation farm built from scratch, a business transition finalized in an ICU waiting room, and a community that proved the dairy industry is less of a business and more of a family.

(Photos Provided By Rustik Dairy LLC)

From the Ground Up

Kerri and Rob Weber didn’t inherit their legacy — they rented it, one barn at a time. Both grew up with a passion for cows — meeting, fittingly, while showing cattle — but starting a dairy from scratch in the 21^st century is a feat many call impossible.

“You’re not going to start at the top,” Weber reflects.

For eight years, the couple operated as nomadic dairymen, renting tie-stall facilities and moving their growing herd as opportunities arose. They lived by a strict philosophy: You have to go through all four seasons before you make a judgment call. They crunched numbers on $16 milk and $20 milk, knowing their break-even points by heart.

Their break came when they returned to the farm where Rob had worked as a teenager. They entered a partnership with brothers Wayne and Brad Beidel. It was a phased transition — a lifeline for a young couple looking for a permanent home for their Holstein, Jersey and Brown Swiss cattle. By the time the first brother, Wayne, retired, Rustik Dairy LLC was formed. They were four years into the second phase of the transition when the world stopped turning.

107 Days of Uncertainty

The day of the injury was like any other until Rob walked into the barn office, spoke Weber’s name, and collapsed. While he lay in a coma for four weeks, Weber’s life became a grueling marathon. She was the mother of three young children at the time — twins who were only 18 months old and a five-year-old daughter.

For 107 days, Weber balanced the sterile silence of hospital hallways with the demanding noise of a 180-cow dairy. She stayed by Rob’s side for nearly every one of those days, yet she never let the farm slip. She did morning milkings when she could, managed the books from hospital chairs and coordinated a team of part-time help that stepped up to become full-time heroes.

“One day at a time” became her motto.

“One day was one more day that I kept Rob alive,” she says.

The Choice in the ICU

Perhaps the most defining moment of Weber’s strength occurred four weeks into Rob’s stay in the ICU. The second partner, Brad, was ready to finalize his retirement. Weber was faced with a choice that would break most people: sell the cows and walk away to focus on her family, or sign the papers to buy out the partnership and take over the entire operation alone.

She chose the farm.

“I was convinced he was coming home,” Weber says. “And I knew he couldn’t come home to an empty barn. He needed something to fight for. If the farm was gone, he wouldn’t have that fight anymore.”

A week after Rob finally returned home, Weber officially took over the management of the entire dairy. She became the sole decision-maker, the lead manager and the primary caregiver for both her husband and their children.

(Photos Provided By Rustik Dairy LLC)

A Miracle in the Barn

Today, Rustik Dairy is not just surviving; it is thriving. The herd of 180 cows is averaging 24,000 pounds of milk with 1,000 pounds of fat and 800 pounds of protein — a remarkable feat given that 40% of the herd consists of color breeds.

But the real success is measured in the small moments. Rob is a walking medical miracle. Though he faces mental challenges, fatigue and the need for ongoing surgeries, he is back on the farm. Weber has integrated technology to help him navigate his new reality. They installed the Topcon feed app, which uses color-coded scales and sounds to help Rob mix feed — a task he once did by memory but now performs with the help of digital eyes.

“Farmers don’t forget what they’re doing,” Weber notes. “It’s muscle memory. He can still drive a tractor better than I can.”

To make life more manageable, Weber moved the calf-raising operation. They built a new calf barn right outside the house so the children can play among the hutches while Weber and Rob work. It allows the family to stay together, fulfilling the dream they had before the accident: raising their children in the barn.

The Power of the Dairy Community

When Kerri reflects on the past year and half, she doesn’t just talk about the struggle; she talks about the silver linings. She speaks of the Amish and Mennonite neighbors who showed up to feed calves without being asked. She speaks of the dairy community that sent diapers, clothing and two meals a week for over a year.

“You don’t have that anywhere else. That love and support... you don’t see that outside of the dairy community,” she says, noting the incredible importance of their families who pitched in from Day 1 to help in anyway they could. “We couldn’t do what we do without the support of our families.”

Even the farm’s nutritionists and veterinarians became part of the inner circle, understanding the “Rustik story” so well that Weber didn’t have to explain her weaknesses — they simply jumped in to fill the gaps.

Looking Forward: One Day at a Time

As spring approaches, the family continues to focus on gratitude. Weber continues to manage the herd with a focus on component growth and efficiency, but her primary objective remains unchanged: keeping the family together.

The journey hasn’t been easy. There are setbacks, like Rob’s shunt revision surgery, and the difficult mentalities that a brain injury can sometimes leave behind. But Weber finds joy in the simple things: a walk through the freestyle barn, the sight of their daughters holding bottles for calves, and the fact Rob is there to see it.

“I look at life differently now,” Weber says. “You don’t realize how quickly life can be taken for granted until it’s nearly gone. I’m just thankful for what I have today, even when the circumstances aren’t what I expected them to be.”

Kerri Weber is more than a dairy farmer. She is a testament to the fact that a farm is held together not just by fences and gates, but by the determined spirit of the women who refuse to let the dream die. At Rustik Dairy, the cows are milking, the children are growing and the miracle is just beginning.

The Identity Trap: What You Do is Not Who You Are

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:56:51 GMT

I will never forget how helpless I felt on Jan. 24 when I watched my son stumble across the wrestling mat. He took two major blows to the head during a match – a sound I could hear from the top of the gym bleachers. As he struggled to orient himself, I felt like I was going to throw up.

In a matter of seconds, he was on his back convulsing with trainers at his side trying to take off his shoulder brace so he could breathe. Sweat poured off his body in a way no workout ever could have done.

I held my hand over my mouth and wailed, watching nearly 13 years of hard work, sacrifice and commitment get carried off the mat on a stretcher. I knew in my heart that this was not a “shake it off” moment as they raced him to the emergency room by ambulance.

By God’s grace, the X-ray of his neck was clear. He never lost consciousness. He answered his questions correctly. Minus the uncomfortable neck brace, within an hour, our son seemed a little drowsy, but normal. We were able to leave Loyola Hospital in Chicago later that day and made it home through the snow that night. With time and rest, he was expected to make a full recovery, but it just wasn’t enough time for his brain to heal to allow him to wrestle in his senior year state series starting a couple of days later.

As a parent, this was a pretty excruciating moment because for thousands of days, I watched this kid commit his whole heart to this sport – a three-time state qualifier who overcame a hip avulsion fracture suffered during his sophomore year during the state tournament, a car accident at the end of his junior season and a torn labrum in his shoulder just weeks after his senior season began. It seemed like all of that was enough. And yet the disappointment was not over.

If I can be honest, I’m angry. Not at anyone in particular, but I’m just angry at the way it played out for him. There is nothing worse than watching your kid hurt and not be able to fix it.

The following weekend of regionals was hard to sit through, though we absolutely wanted the best for his teammates. At church the next day, some friends we hadn’t seen in a while came up and talked to our son. I overheard him say, “Wrestling is something I do, it’s not who I am.”

Parallel Paths: From the Mat to the Ranch

Fast forward a few days to the Top Producer Summit where I listened to a powerful panel. Leaders of top companies in agriculture weighed in on a variety of thought-provoking topics, but one message stood out to me.

“All too often, we confuse what we do with who we are,” said Lamar Steiger with The 808 Ranch. “As farmers and ranchers, we are our job. It’s our identity. That was my problem as a young man.”

Steiger grew up on a dairy. High interest rates in the late 1970s made farming particularly challenging. When he was in his 20s, their family lost the dairy. After working so hard to make that operation work, Steiger took this as a deep personal failure.

“There was nothing I could do to save the dairy because outside forces were at hand. But it’s so hard for farmers and ranchers to separate that,” he said. “Looking back, I had depression for quite a while after that, but we didn’t talk about that then.”

When he was in his mid-30s, Steiger attempted suicide.

“I had to be removed totally from my working life and start completely over,” he shared. “I learned the hard way how to separate my identity from my role.”

Steiger said it wasn’t pretty, but he is grateful for how this time of his life changed him.

“When you come to the end of yourself, you look for something bigger and better. That’s worked out really good for me,” he said. “Being a rancher is cool to me, but it’s not who I am. I’m Lamar. I try my best and I fail. We have great successes and then we have some things that just don’t work out. But it’s not all my responsibility.”

There’s something so humbling about another person vulnerably sharing their story. We can learn so much from each other. All it takes is a willingness to share your story. Left unshared, our stories may only change us. But by sharing, we can help each other find our way through the very real burdens of life.

A Truth Worth Holding Onto

It’s easy to confuse your identity with what you do because it becomes such a big part of our lives. As another Shike kid closes one chapter and gets ready to start the next, I find myself confusing who I am with my role as a mom. I’m not sure what life looks like without Saturday wrestling tournaments and late nights posting photos of our wrestlers.

As I sat there at Top Producer Summit, I kept hearing my son’s voice in my head saying, “Wrestling is something I do, it’s not who I am.”

He’s only 17 and has a lot of life to live, but I’m grateful he recognizes this truth. I know there will be times when he will be tempted to measure his worth by his performance. But I believe when we get honest and share these stories, we can help one another avoid the mistake of confusing what we do with who we are.

Caleb Ragland Named Pro Farmer's 2025 Person of the Year

Mon, 29 Dec 2025 21:32:20 GMT

Caleb Ragland , president of the American Soybean Association (ASA), was thrust into the national media spotlight in 2025, where his steady demeanor and devotion to fact-based arguments made him an effective advocate for all farmers as they fought their way through the trade fire storm. That’s why Pro Farmer selected Ragland as its 2025 Ag Person of the Year.

“If you could pick a word to describe the year, uncertainty would be it,” says the Kentucky-based farmer. Following the trade ructions of President Trump’s first term, Ragland told Pro Farmer he knew another trade disruption was possible. Like most farmers, though, he was caught off guard at the sheer scale of the trade war and the lack of a firm deal with China before harvest began.

With commodity prices suffering as harvest began, ASA knew action had to be taken. Their approach was to “respectfully, but firmly” communicate the plight of soybean farmers to the general public and lawmakers in Washington.

“We’re not presenting ourselves as victims, we simply want to make a living and let the markets work like everyone else,” Ragland says.

The lack of soybean demand made waves far beyond the reach of traditional agricultural news outlets, with nearly 45,000 pieces of online media mentioning “soybeans” since September of this year. Ragland shares he sees those efforts paying off in smaller ways. Just last week, while traveling, he had an interaction at an airport when two fellow travelers noticed his ASA hat and struck up a conversation about soybeans after hearing about them in the news.

During today's Senate Judiciary Committee hearing, ASA President Caleb Ragland (KY) urged Congress & the administration to take immediate action to reduce #farm production costs & prevent additional family farm closures. https://t.co/wPUdObCxyC #AgEcon #AgPolicy #Soybeans pic.twitter.com/hkBqgUghWs
— American Soybean Association (@ASA_Soybeans) October 28, 2025

Over the course of 2025, Ragland had direct contact with legislators, administration officials and other policymakers. He spoke at Congressional hearings to push for lower tariffs on farm inputs, policy changes to bolster demand for soy and direct assistance to farmers impacted by ongoing policy decisions. Progress has been made with some tariffs on fertilizer dropped in December, and a $12 billion bridge payment to support crop producers was announced earlier this month. Despite movement in the right direction, Ragland knows more work remains.

“We really don’t want to leave anything out there on the table, and the rules around biofuels and renewable fuel standards is one practical area we could still see improvement,” he says.

Ragland finishes up his term as president this month, and will move into the role of chairman for his final year on the board in 2026. He remains optimistic the trade deal with China will be honored going forward, but reserves some uneasiness due to the complex political situation between the two countries. His key takeaway from his time in the spotlight is the importance of farmers banding together to influence policy.

“If we’re not unified we have very little influence, but there’s a lot of strength in numbers when we come together to point to common goals,” Ragland says.

In addition to a Person of the Year, Pro Farmer also selects an Event of the Year and a Story of the Year . In 2025, there was a distinct theme. The trade war and its disruptions to both exports and inputs made it a shoo-in for Story of the Year. Trump’s announcement of sweeping tariffs on April 2 , and the volatility that shook global financial markets in its wake, made it a clear choice for Event of the Year.

—Bill Watts and Hillari Mason contributed to this article.

Saying Goodbye to Dad: A Farmer’s Journey with Grief

Tue, 09 Dec 2025 19:37:04 GMT

Grief is hard. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a way of life, or even a dream, the pain of losing something we care about is an inevitable part of being human. However, that doesn’t make grief any easier to walk through.

On May 23, 2024, Nathan Isler lost his father, Bill, to a stroke. The man who was greater than life to him, was no longer by his side every day on their family pork and grain operation. The loss that everyone who loved him felt was undeniable.

“I don’t know how people deal with grief without faith. If you think death is just the end, it’s a hard thing to deal with,” Isler says. “For me, the toughest part is the loss of those moments where I wish he was there to talk to about things.”

In Isler’s mind, grief is more of a feeling than a definition. In the simplest of terms, he says it’s disappointment in life not going the way you want it to – not getting the answers you hoped for or not having the person you want to be there.

But grief, as painful as it feels, is also a process that can open the door to growth and resilience.

“It is impossible to live without experiencing pain at some point in our lives,” says Jorge Estrada, Global Coaching Alliance Latin America lead. “Life and pain go hand in hand. They’re part of the great dichotomies: black and white, day and night, life and death, love and pain.”

Pain isn’t an interruption to life, it’s a thread woven through it, Estrada adds. At the same time, grief isn’t a sign of weakness or failure. It’s evidence of our capacity to love deeply and to heal, even after profound loss.

Understanding Grief

“Grief hurts,” agrees Gina Forte, an expert in thanatology which is the study of death, loss and the processes that follow. “When we love someone or something, we become attached to it. The more we love, the more it hurts to lose.”

But that hurt has a purpose. Grief is an adaptive emotional process, a way to make sense of loss and find balance again, she adds. Knowing it’s a process helps people move forward.

“Perseverance is a necessity in life,” Isler says. “Life goes on. You can’t stop. You can’t lose your potential or your life. Putting my head down and getting work done – being productive – has helped me during this time.”

He says there is something healing about setting goals and pushing forward.

“Getting in your own head too much allows the grief to multiply,” Isler adds. “For me, being able to have wins and accomplish goals promotes healing.”

Forte says that’s the function of grief – to restore and heal.

“When we don’t allow ourselves to process it, grief can become unhealthy or even pathological,” she says.

From Shock to Acceptance

When loss hits, no one is ready to understand or accept it fully. The stages of grief all play a key role in the process. Forte outlined the seven stages of grief:

Grief isn’t a straight line, she says. Sometimes people circle back to the same stage again, but the visits grow shorter over time.

One day, one of Isler’s dad’s friends showed him a video of his dad swinging on a rope at a retreat not long before he passed away.

“I don’t know what, but something triggered inside me – to see that youthfulness and joy he always had,” Isler says. “It’s hard to predict what will trigger different parts of the grief process. I have found that the return to different stages gets quicker as you move on.”

On the Other Side of Loss

The resilience that emerges on the other side of loss makes us stronger people, Estrada says. In short, it’s not just surviving hardship, it’s being transformed by it.

Estrada defines resilience as the ability to navigate change, understand grief, learn, let go, and create a new reality—one that carries a better version of ourselves into the next stage of life.

“Everything you do in life changes who you are a little bit,” Isler says. “I’ve learned more about who my dad was to so many. I’ve learned not everyone has a role model like him. I hope I can live up to the example he set for my kids.”

Studies show one of the strongest predictors of resilience is having loving and supportive relationships that offer trust, encouragement and security through the grief process.

For Isler, living next door to his mom, who has been living with dementia for several years, has put him in a unique situation. Sharing stories about his dad with his mom has been especially healing.

“My mom has always been someone I could talk to easily,” Isler says. “I’ve used her as a map to put it all out there because she isn’t grieving the way the rest of us are. She knows dad isn’t around, but it doesn’t all connect for her like it does for us. When I talk about dad with her, it does nothing but bring joy to her.”

Get Off the Island

Everyone deals with grief at some point, Isler says. Maybe it’s grief from the loss of a loved one, but for farmers, grief could stem from a terrible financial situation on the farm or the loss of a business you’ve built your life around.

“For all the people who think they are alone, it’s just not the case,” he says. “We all deal with grief, and we all deal with it differently. A lot of times we put ourselves on an island – especially in our industry.”

Farmers – especially men – are some of the worst about talking about their feelings, Isler says.

“We are tough guys. We get the work done and go on,” he says. “But it helps to talk about it. Let people show up for you or go find someone to talk to if they don’t know what you are going through.”

When Isler’s sister told him that what helped her in the grief process was being around him, he was taken aback a little.

“She said I reminded her of dad and was a lot like him, that being around me made it easier not having dad around anymore,” he says. “To me, that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

The Miracle Season: Indiana Farm Family Gives Thanks For Teen's Miraculous Recovery From Bus Accident

Wed, 26 Nov 2025 20:59:40 GMT

For farmers, harvest season brings its own set of challenges. But for Indiana farm family Brad, Kelley, Caleb and Lucas Bradshaw, this year’s harvest stress comes with a side of gratitude.

“We’re just thankful we have something to harvest,” admits Brad Bradshaw, a farmer in New Carlisle, Ind. “If it wasn’t for the friends and families in this community and beyond, we’d be up a creek.”

The nightmare began on May 8, 2025, when Bradshaw, the assistant junior varsity baseball coach at New Prairie High School, loaded onto one of two mini-buses headed for an away game. Bradshaw was driving with Lucas and 6 teammates on board. While stopped at a traffic light just a few miles from home, their bus was violently struck from behind by a box truck traveling over 70 miles per hour.

“I happen to look up and think, ‘Oh my God, we’re about to get hit.’ All I remember was getting hit and I was out,” Bradshaw recounts.

The impact flipped the bus onto its side and threw Lucas onto the pavement.

“I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize but I missed it,” Kelley says. “The number called again and something just told me to pick it up. A gentleman explained that there had been an accident.”

Lucas was airlifted to a nearby hospital. Doctors were able to get him stable, but a traumatic brain injury led to a medically induced coma, then swelling, a craniotomy and breathing and feeding tubes. Bradshaw suffered a broken sternum and ribs, along with a host of other contusions. He was treated and released, but Lucas’ path forward remained cloudy.

Lucas suffered severe brain trauma following the accident

(Brad Bradshaw)

“We had hope,” Kelley shares through tears. “We always had hope.”

As he fought for his life, the New Carlisle community sprang into action. Friends and family helped get their crops planted and handle work on the farm.

“There was a lot of behind-the-scenes work that just happened,” Kelley says.

While Lucas was hospitalized, his brother Caleb stepped up, managing the farm work and caring for their 4-H animals.

“It was pretty hard,” Caleb says. “I got home late every day, but it was okay doing it by myself.”

By June, the family, down a team member, reluctantly headed to the county fair knowing Lucas wouldn’t be there in 2025.

“We were at the county fair and my sister texts and says they’ve deemed Lucas medically awake,” Bradshaw says.

Good news amid the craziness of fair season. Friends stepped in to show Lucas’ livestock. When it came time for the sale, the community rallied behind him. His recovery journey then led him to Mary Free Bed, a rehab hospital in Grand Rapids, nearly two hours from the farm.

“When he got there, he just lay there,” Kelley says. “He couldn’t do anything else. His eyes weren’t even open. One eye was cracked and that was it.”

With each passing day, there was improvement. The small wins added up to big gains. After 125 days in the hospital, on September 10, Lucas took his next big step.

Lucas, helped by his brother Caleb, walked out of Mary Free Bed rehab hospital

(MaryBeth Griffiths)

“They said it was their number one graduation, and they wish all their graduations were like that,” Lucas proudly says, “When I saw the whole baseball team, I was like, ‘Wow.’ I was happy.”

With friends, family, staff and teammates cheering him on, Lucas walked out of the hospital where he was wheeled in.

As the fall baseball season concluded, the harvest season roared into full swing.

“He’s had a traumatic brain injury, so he has some damage and some things that he has to work on to get better,” Bradshaw says. “We have hope that he will get better. He’s determined to do that, and he has huge goals, which I love goals.”

There’s a renewed drive for this family to reclaim the seasons they lost and get back to the fields they love. Today, they understand each day is a gift.

Lucas is back in the combine helping with harvest

(Brad Bradshaw)

“The number of people that just happened to be in the right place at the right time truly is a miracle,” Kelley says.

Bradshaw echoes: “It’s just a miracle that seven players and two coaches are all walking today. We could have lost all of us. We were blessed that day. Everybody was blessed.”

As the combine races toward the end of harvest, those blessings are pouring out on those watching a son, a friend, a brother and a teammate return to the field.

“Farming has always been a thing to do and growing up that’s all there’s been,” Lucas says. “I pretty much need to find my way. If I want to do something, it’s going to involve farming.”

A determination to roll through this season and the next, ready to plant the gifts God so graciously spared.

Adam Sanders Brings Hog-Wild Energy on Stage in CBS Series “The Road”

Wed, 26 Nov 2025 14:09:39 GMT

What does pig farming have to do with the new CBS series featuring Keith Urban and Blake Shelton? More than you might think.

The Road is an exciting new show that features 12 emerging artists who are competing for a $250,000 prize package and recording opportunities. Each participant also earns the opportunity to open for Urban during his national tour.

Six artists remain, and one of the featured artists is Adam Sanders, a Nashville singer and songwriter originally from Florida. He’s also a good friend of Missouri pig farmer Jesse Heimer. Not only has he performed at Heimer’s farm multiple times, but the pair has also written two songs together, including “Do What We Do.”

The tour bus rolls into Tulsa for a concert at the iconic Cain’s Ballroom. In place of Blake Shelton, award-winning country artist Dustin Lynch sits in with Keith Urban. For the first time, the seven musicians are divided up to perform two group covers before performing their originals, on THE ROAD, Sunday, Nov. 23 (9:00-10:00 PM, ET/PT). Pictured: Adam Sanders. Photo: ©2025 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved. Highest quality screengrab.

(CBS/CBS )

“I think what folks see on the screen is someone who’s had just enough experience on stage in front of a crowd, and the feelings of all of it, to know that he really wants it,” Heimer says. “This isn’t Adam’s first time to town – he opened for Carrie Underwood at a sold-out Iowa State Fair. He understands the stage, the audience, and the emotions people have as they listen to an entertainer.”

It’s been an incredible experience to watch Sanders shine on The Road, Heimer adds.

“He really took this opportunity to heart – to be on screen in front of millions to tell his story and put his talent on display,” Heimer says. “Adam is a high energy guy all the time and that’s what you see on stage. But he’s also one of the most genuine, down-to-earth friends I’ve ever had. The Adam you see on screen is the Adam you’ll see on the street.”

That’s Why We Do What We Do

Heimer first met Sanders in 2019. They were introduced by a mutual friend after Heimer created a series of videos to highlight the benefits of showing livestock. His goal was to help people outside of agriculture see that showing livestock was about more than just the animal and the ribbon. Their mutual friend encouraged Heimer to produce a music video which eventually led him to meet Sanders, a talented songwriter.

Adam Sanders (l) and Jesse Heimer (r) on the farm in Taylor, Mo.

(Legacy Livestock Images/Heidi Anderson)

“I had to learn more about his industry, so I could have enough knowledge about his side of the fence,” Sanders says. “I think we spent months really talking about the idea of this. One day, it really just registered with me and it clicked. I remember writing down in my phone: ‘that’s why we do what we do.’”

Sanders called on his friend Brice Long, a fellow songwriter to help write “Do What We Do.”

“I wanted the song to be broad enough that it could appeal across facets of agriculture,” Heimer says. “I knew if we made it just about the show ring, we were only going to attract those that already believe the same things as me.”

The project started as an anthem for stock show kids and although that goal never changed, the video went down a different path than Heimer first expected. He wanted to create a music video that everybody in agriculture could see themselves in. Regardless of what your role in agriculture is, Heimer believes this song speaks to the feelings of many about why they do what they do.

“I couldn’t be prouder of how the song turned out, and how it all came together,” Sanders says. “It was just a natural fit. It took some time to make it happen, but God had a plan in all of this and how it shaped out.”

Sanders adds that the stats show the song resonates with people. Through organic promotion only, the song has now been streamed nearly 600,000 times and appears on 39 playlists. It’s received 873,000 views on TikTok, too. Beyond traditional streams, the song has been very popular with TikTok users who are increasingly using it in their content.

But You’d Get It If You Did It

Three years after Sanders released this song, Heimer had an “epiphany” at the 2024 Missouri State Fair.

“I realized I was watching my kids doing, saying and loving all of the same things I did at the state fair when I was a kid,” Heimer says. “It felt like déjà vu. I talked to Adam during the fair and told him we should write a song about it – to piggyback off ‘Do What We Do.’”

Not long after, the song ‘ Get It If You Did It ’ was born.

“From the outside looking in, it’s hard to understand why we raise pigs, why we go to shows, why we commit so many resources for our kids to find success in the show ring,” Heimer

But you’d get it if you did it
I bet you wouldn’t knock it
If you dug your boots down in it
You’d know why we can’t stop it
You can’t replace the dreams we chase
Naw ain’t no way we can quit it
Might not love it like we love it
Or live it like we live it
But you’d get it if you did it.

- Get It If You Did It

points out. “This song is a continuation of the original story. The writing is broad enough, though, that it fits anyone’s hobby or passion from hunting to sports to rodeo. I hope it gets a spot on The Road.”

The chorus is easy for people in agriculture to relate to, Heimer says.

“The show pig community has been incredibly supportive of me as an artist for several years, going back to the introduction of ‘Do What We Do’ – and even before,” Sanders says. “It seems like no matter where I’m playing, people from this industry are in the crowd.”

Live from Oklahoma Ranch

Show pig industry leader Blake Kennedy, owner of Kennedy Ventures, was fortunate to be in the audience during the taping of The Road in Oklahoma City.

“It was a really cool experience to be selected as a cast member,” Kennedy says. “When we got there, they checked us in and took our phones and belongings. Because no one had the distraction of a phone, everyone was very present and engaged.”

The atmosphere inside Oklahoma Ranch was very exciting, he adds. Sanders performed his original, “Burning Roses” and Jo Dee Messina’s hit song “Heads Carolina, Tails California.”

Although the contestants only get a few minutes of time in the TV show, Kennedy says their live performances were about 10 minutes and allowed the audience the opportunity to get to know each performer a little more.

“It was awesome to see someone like Adam be successful in his world who also enjoys seeing us achieve success in our world, too,” Kennedy says.

Tune in Sunday

Don’t miss the next episode performed at The Hall in Little Rock, Ark., airing on CBS on Nov. 30 at 8 p.m. CT. https://www.cbs.com/shows/the-road/

Read the ‘Do What We Do’ story here:
Nashville Singer and Pig Farmer Release Anthem for Ag