On Contentment, As Farmers.

It's no secret we started our dairy in the most modest fashion. In fact, I've even told stories detailing Jesse's unwillingness to share our journey with local farmers and friends for fear of mockery. Let's recap: we converted a small horse barn into a four tie-stall barn with a small milk house featuring a ninety gallon bulk tank and a fifteen gallon pasteurizing vat in our state-legal creamery. We started with a single cow and a bucket milker. We didn't have a tractor, rather a wheelbarrow and shovel for manure management. We purchased a single bag of one hundred half-gallon jugs and caps, made our own bottle labels and started our journey with no idea what was in store in the early months of 2020.

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Fast forward to 2024, and though it's been a hard, long-fought, expensive and time-consuming journey, we've added a milk pipeline, a second and larger pasteurization vat, a modest farm shoppe, a well-loved tractor and ten more cows to our farm. We buy our half-gallon jugs, labels and caps by the thousands these days. We purchased a gelato machine and created our own gelato base recipe, which we've since shared with hundreds of students in our online farm courses. It might seem as though we've "made it" from the outside, but the reality of building a first-generation dairy farm is not one of ease. We're far from where we'd like to be. We still have tough days managing on under twenty acres and bottling milk/gelato/yogurt most days of the week. It's still a labor of love, and not one that we plan to use to "get rich"--ever, in fact.

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But we built it, and we've felt God's hand in this space. On the hard days, He brings us a double rainbow, a beautiful compliment from a customer or a FaceTime call with a friend (we're looking at you, Ben and Kristen). We've helped so many other aspiring dairy farmers start their own venture, and we know this is a part of our calling on this earth, we feel it. So it's not always about how much money we make or how many employees we can afford--it's so much bigger than that. It's about providing a delicious, healthy product to our community and expanding the vision of a profitbable dairy farm for so many other farmers. It's about bringing to life the farm-to-table dairy movement in a way that's sustainable. It's about finding a career in your passion, and sharing that with your community.

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So in that right, we've succeeded. And we're so dang proud.

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But then, just like the devil himself, comparison creeps in. And we're not the most expensive, best marketed, highest producing, most followed, prettiest aesthetic around. And suddenly we're less than we were yesterday. And we're not keeping up, moving fast enough, offering enough products, expanding into the most markets. So we start to feel hopeless. And what was just a gift of a farm journey is now a shameful venture we're ready to quit. 

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It's not about trying to sound dramatic, but rather sharing the real feelings we've felt in these past few years. Just as we have one uplifting experience, we seem to fight an equally downtrodden one. It's a constant battle of the mind in any venture we pursue, but especially in business and farming. We've had to dig deep into our goals and also into scripture to ground ourselves and bring us back to reality. 

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"A tranquil heart gives life to flesh, but envy makes the bones rot." -Proverbs 14:30

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In the dairy farming Instagram community, you likely watched as Ballerina Farm in Utah unveiled its state-of-the-art dairy farm this week. I know I watched as they unloaded a beautiful herd of Jerseys and Jersey/Holstein crosses into their entirely-robotic barn. From robotic milkers to feeders and even robotic manure cleaning systems, the barn is the Mercedes of dairy barns. It's stunning and a literal dream to those of us in dairy farming. It's like dairy farming, but the farmer is almost optional/obsolete. Because the cost of the equipment alone was worth more than most of us will make in our lifetime, let alone the construction of the barn and creamery. It's seriously stunning. 

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Enter the negative comments and chatter and jealousy and bitterness. And trust me, I'm not exempt. I had to work myself through it to come to my position on their farm. Remember, most dairy farmers have worked 12+ hour days making barely minimum wage caring completely for a herd of dairy cows that produce a delicious, nutritions product for a community which will likely never even know or care they exist. In the land of bashing pasteurized dairy and hatred of "factory farming", farmers do a lot for very little praise, recognition or money. It's no wonder there has been backlash against Ballerina Farm's multi-million dollar dairy estate.

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But what if we changed the narrative, obtained an alternate perspective?  What if we could look at this development from an ever-popular Instagram account as an advertisement for all market dairies? What if we allowed Ballerina Farm to change the narrative on direct dairy into one of health and luxury and pride? Imagine if the millions of followers who watch this dairy produce milk, butter, cheese, ice cream and are willing to pay the necessary price for direct-dairy expands throughout the US into your little town? What if your next customer finds your because she's followed Ballerina Farms for years and wants to support a local dairy like them? Can we set aside our envy to appreciate what this platform could do for all of us?

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Because of course, life isn't fair. And yes, some people have millions of dollars in a trust while others are barely scraping by. That's just the way it is. But imagine if we could set aside those thoughts and look for the good in other's success. I think all of our direct-to-consumer dairy farms can benefit from Ballerina Farm's dream dairy, as long as we're willing to find contentment in our own farm, first.

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I'd love to know your thoughts. 

So glad you're here,

Lisa