Lessons from the Farm: Adapt and Innovate

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My dad is my hero. Part of why I value my time growing up working on the farm is all of the time I got to spend with him along the way.

For some reason, there’s one conversation that has stuck in my mind for close to 20 years. It’s seemingly insignificant, but I can’t shake it.

We had just finished building a new set of corrals (quite a feat in itself). As we were talking about how to finish it, or maybe after we had used them a few times, he told me he had an idea for a sorting gate. It took the concept of a calf feeder (which probably won’t mean much to you), and combined it with a gate, to create a sorting gate.

Let me give the simple version: this sorting gate would allow small calves to “sneak” through the gate, while keeping their momma’s from doing the same thing.

My mind was blown. I never would have considered something like that. The innovation was remarkable in my mind. And I think that’s what has stuck with me more than anything from that conversation.

My dad has an ability to look at a situation and see an opportunity. And that inspires me to do the same.

So much of leadership is trying to make the most of the situations in front of us. One of my favorite trips at my previous church was our leadership trip. It was a hybrid trip where I loaded student leaders into a car and drove them to 4-5 people who would share leadership ideas with them. I wanted these students to get a conference experience in an area where there were no conferences. So we built our own.

If we’re serious about expanding our leadership influence, we have to learn to adapt and innovate. I’m not looking to turn the world upside down. But I am looking to make the most of the time I have now.

In the midst of COVID19 and online meetings, we don’t have to reinvent the wheel. But we do need to adapt and innovate. Are you? How can I help?

Lessons from the Farm: Efficiency Isn’t Flashy

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I started driving a tractor by myself around age 7, maybe 8. It’s not as dangerous as it may seem because I only went about 3.5 mph most of the time, and it’s difficult to do much damage at that high rate of sloth-ness.

As I got older, I realized my time would seemingly go faster if I cut the work into smaller chunks. I mean it makes sense, right? This is what we’re taught throughout our life–if you have a goal, break it down to tackle it.

I remember one time in particular, I broke a section of plowing into three parts. I was constantly turning and turning around, and as a result, it felt like time was passing faster.

The problem: I was actually being less effective.

Every minute spent with the plow out of the ground, or re-plowing ground that had already been plowed was a waste not only of time, but of fuel. Wasted time and wasted fuel means wasted money.

Efficiency isn’t always flashy. It was fun to constantly make turns, to raise and lower the plow. It was more mentally engaging. But at the end of the day, it was a waste.

The same is true for your leadership. Efficiency isn’t always flashy. There is something you’re doing right now that could either 1) be accomplished better by someone else or 2) be finished faster if you spent less time with the plow out of the ground.

Maybe it’s how you plan for events, or the way you train those you lead.

Maybe you’re lack of efficiency is in doing something you’re actually not good at doing.

For me, it’s graphic design. I enjoy the mental challenge of design, but it tends to be a black hole in my schedule. I can create something simple and effective in 5-10 minutes, and then spend 3 hours adding subtle differences that I find fascinating, but most people will never notice.

So efficiency means limiting the time I allow myself to spend on it, or even trusting someone else to do it completely. It’s exciting to try 7 different shades of a color. It’s mundane to move on.

So the question becomes: Are you willing to endure the mundane to increase efficiency? What do you need to cut or limit (or bring someone alongside) to maximize your gifting? What are you waiting for?

Lessons from the Farm: Fill the Water Jug

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Do you remember the old school Tupperware? When I was growing up, we had some pieces of Tupperware that were (not-so) beautiful shades of orange, green, and brown. Ironically, they kind of matched our shag carpet.

One of the best uses I remember for the Tupperware was to fill it with water and put it in the freezer, which would create a rather large ice cube. Then, at the beginning of a day, or if we were lucky enough to go to the house for lunch, we would take the giant ice cube, dump it into a water jug, and have iced water for the rest of the day.

Why was that important? There aren’t a lot of convenience stores in the middle of the field. In fact, there are no Allsup’s in the field. It’s only dirt.

If we were trying to plow a field, time was money. That meant stops which could be avoided, should be avoided. One of the best ways was to be prepared at the beginning of the day, so you could make the most of the time you have.

There are some things in the field we could not plan for–a flat tire on the plow, a busted hydraulic hose, or a broken implement. But thirst? That was a given.

Leadership is the same. For us, it could be a conversation to ease concerns, an unexpected phone call, or the missing piece to your plan.

But some things that capture your time are akin to starting the day without a water jug. It happens regularly. It’s a weak spot in your approach, and you know.

Let me challenge you today to spend a little time asking yourself what’s the biggest time waster you deal with on a regular basis. Now, make a plan to fight it. Grab the Tupperware, fill it with water, and put your plan into action. Your effectiveness will grow because of it.

Lessons from the Farm: Building Fence

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I’m continuing our lessons from the farm series today. You can click here to read the previous post.

Today, let’s talk about fences. Every field I talked about Tuesday was surround by a fence.

Here’s the thing about fence: A great fence is great because of great labor.

Someone who is willing to put forth the time and effort to build a great fence will reap the benefits of a great fence for years.

Someone who is unwilling to put forth the time and effort to build a great fence will pay for it sooner rather than later.

But after decades, even a great fence gets weak and worn. We spent countless days fixing old fence and rebuilding fence lines, and there was one aspect I found fascinating.

We always knew the beginning and the end of the fence line. That was pretty easy. The tricky part was making certain all of the posts in between lined up.

One of the greatest dangers in fence building is failing to balance where you are with where you’re going. The next post had to be in line with the final post.

Alignment is critical.

In the midst of our current COVID19 reality, alignment is still critical. The delivery of what we do may be different, but the next post needs to be in proper alignment. Otherwise we lose alignment, creating undue stress on the rest of the fence.

I hope you’ve done your due diligence prior to this shift in delivery so as to give you a post you’re aiming for. And I hope the next post you drive is in alignment with where you’re heading.

But more importantly, I hope you don’t lose your way during this time. Follow the fence line. Stay in alignment. Build a great fence.

Lessons from the Farm: Acknowledging Influences

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Well, here we are again. April at 3QL means I dig into my past and bring some leadership lessons from the farm. If you’re new, or if you’d just like a refresher, you can see some of the lessons from the farm posts from the past by clicking here, here, here, and here. Now, let’s move forward!

Growing up in an agricultural family, I spent a lot of time on my dad’s land. We lived in town, so anytime we needed to meet up, or to work on something, we never went to “the field”. Every field had a name. Seems simple enough, right?

Here are a few of the field names I grew up saying:

  • The Hangar Field
  • The 90
  • The Triangle
  • The Shelter Belt
  • North of the Twin Windmills
  • South of the Barn
  • The Adobe House Field
  • The Big Field

Now, look back over that list. Some names are incredibly descriptive, if you know where the landmarks are. North of the Twin Windmills only makes sense if you know where the Twin Windmills are. Same with South of the Barn. But those are easy enough, because those still structures still stood during my lifetime.

A couple, however, are a little trickier. I’ve never walked in the Adobe House the field was named after, because it wasn’t there. Oh, and the Hangar in the Hangar field? Nope. I’m pretty sure it was gone shortly before my arrival in the 80s.

Yet those fields have those names. There’s actually a new hangar, but it’s not in the Hangar Field. Go figure.

On the farm, once something has a name, it carries that name for decades. There’s history wrapped into the name. Memories of each field evoke emotions.

In leadership, we have to be aware of the unspoken influences and memories tied to the organizations we lead. Understanding where something (or someone) originates provides insight, and allows forward movement.

Is there something around you that you need to stop and consider the story behind. You never know, you may find some beauty in the story behind the name.

Or, it may be called the Big Field because it’s a big field. You never know until you ask.

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