“Yeah, here's to the farmer that loves his day in the sun, Won't sell that old half-ton, Nobody knows better 'bout a hard-earned dollar. Just tell him how far he's gotta go and he'll go further” – Luke Bryan

​The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell… Do you remember singing this song as a child?  Until I wrote this article, I thought the lyrics were “and the dell.”  What’s a dell?  Who knows?  Any why doesn’t the song rhyme?  Random questions that make you go hmm… 
Growing up, I often visited my Grandma and Grandpa’s farm in Missouri.  My brother LOVED the farm.  He’s an outdoorsy, animal-loving adventurer.  I, on the other hand, avoided all physical labor, bugs, and animals.  On one trip, my Grandpa told us that he needed help moving a bull from a barn to a pasture.  He put me in one position, and then put my cousin in another.  He told us he was going to open the gate, and all we needed to do was make sure the giant bull kept walking past our “human fence” to his final destination.  Obviously, I was scared at this point.  As I’ve shared before, my Grandpa was a Hatfield.  He was tough as nails; a true brute of a man.  He told us to make sure we didn’t run when he opened the gate.  It was important we stand our ground.  Reluctantly, I stood there watching as my Grandpa walked over and handed a bat to my male cousin.  I remember asking my Grandpa why Brandon needed a bat?  I don’t think he answered, but I do know that a flood of panic ran through my mind.  I was a sitting duck!  If this 2,000+ pound bull charged in my direction, I had zero defense.  My Grandpa swung the gate open.  The bull took a step forward.  My Grandpa prodded the bull a little, and it took a couple more steps. 
Let me pause this story to tell you another.  As I shared before, I hated physical labor.  Any physical activity – count me out.  So when I had to do the obligatory mile run in high school, I pretty much walked the whole way.  If I recall correctly, I walked the mile in a little over 12 minutes.  At the end of the year, to pass P.E., our coach told us we had to beat our time from the beginning of the year to pass the class.  “No problem!  I’ll simply jog it and easily get a better finish time,” I thought to myself.  Well, as I ran, I started getting that runner cramp in my side.  I was panting hard, but kept going.  Next thing I know, I’m staring at the sky.  I had passed out while running.  I knew I had to finish in order to get class credit, so I ran the rest and finished with a time of over 15 minutes!?!  True story.  I needed to tell you that, so you could appreciate what happened next in the bull story. 
As the bull slowly meandered towards me, and by towards me, I mean within 150 yards… I completely freaked out.  I bolted faster than a speeding bullet!  I probably would have qualified as an Olympic finalist that day.  I do not know how that bull reacted.  I do not know how it finally arrived at its new pasture.  I didn’t stick around to see my Grandpa’s reaction.  I’m confident in saying it likely wasn’t pleasant and included many words I can’t write here. 
As this is March Madness season, what better time to share a story about when I made someone mad?  If you’re breathing, you may have noticed that our society has shifted to a rather mad tone in the last few years.  Log onto social media or watch TV.  You’ll find someone ranting about politics, religion, their life’s misfortune, or first world problems.  I encourage you today to let go of your anger.  Choose contentment!  If you’ve wronged someone, ask for forgiveness.  Life’s too short to dwell on bull.  See what I did there?