And then our normal dropped out from under us. On a bright September day, my dad fell from the top of a grain bin. His neck landed on the ladder that he'd kicked from underneath him. He severed his spinal cord and was left paralyzed from the shoulders down. When he was airlifted to the Chicago hospital where he would stay for the next four months, he left behind hundreds of acres of harvest-ready crops, a 13-year-old daughter and two sons, ages 10 and 4.

But he didn't leave behind a wife. My mom was at his side during the foggy days of intensive care, during the painful months of rehabilitation, and through what had to have been dark moments of uncertainty as they looked ahead to our family's future.

They faced a difficult decision. Farming was our family's livelihood, and now dad would be unable to complete any of the farm's daily physical operations. Either mom would have to find a new career to support the family and somehow arrange a daytime caretaker for dad, or they would find a way to accept, adjust and carry on with the life they'd always known.

They carried on. It's been more than 13 years since dad's accident, and they've nearly doubled the size of their farm operation in that time. Instead of dad being the one to plant and harvest and see to every need in between, the farm's two hired hands take care of the physical labor. Now dad focuses his time on the equally important aspects of farm management, from market analysis to equipment research. And all the while my mom is there to complete any of the physical tasks he can't do, from pouring his first cup of black coffee to helping load a planter.

A typical day may have her moving farm equipment from one farm to another, sweeping a grain bin, or signing loan papers. Together they make the decisions that affect the farm on a day-to-day basis as well as manage their hired help. Throughout the day, she's at his side for everything — every bite of food, every search through a file cabinet, every roll of the eyes when he makes a bad joke.

Her situation may be extreme, but it may not differ from that of many farmwives. Like most farmwives, she takes on the ever-changing roles of manager, driver, physical worker, cook, counselor and more on a daily basis. And like many farmwives, she's often overlooked and underappreciated. She doesn't complain and doesn't expect to be thanked for her contributions, but without her, the farm and family would surely unhinge.

The Women in Agriculture Award, a clock with her name engraved on the baseplate, finally let the spotlight shine on one of those "normal" farmwives who so often put their needs on hold to meet the needs of others. As a teenager growing up those first years after the accident, I understood that my mom had more on her shoulders than the next mom. It wasn't until I became a mother myself that I was able to step back and measure the impossible distance between where I stand and how far I have to go before I stand next to her.

From the time she wakes up to the moment her head finally hits the pillow at night, her day is heavy with responsibility. But between managing the farm, keeping real estate appointments and caring for dad, she still makes the time to be a devoted and generous mother and grandmother.

If I stop by her house with a plate of store-bought cookies for her, I'll walk out the door with a pan of her homemade cinnamon rolls. When she knows I'm busy at home, she'll surprise me and pick up my two kids so I can have a couple hours of peace. She's the mother I wish everyone could have — a great cook in a cozy house, the fun mom with the best party ideas, a good listener who has helped me appreciate life's smallest and most treasured moments.

Her generosity extends past our family. She has served on many community organization boards and committees, among them the Pulaski County Community Foundation Board, the school improvement committee at Winamac High School, the 4-H program, and the Pulaski County YMCA program committee. I've observed her in acts of random kindness — a care package to a homesick college student or just a kind word to someone who has suffered a loss of any measure. She knows how to care for people. She wouldn't let me compliment her without stopping me to say she has a lot of help — close family members and friends who can be with dad when she has meetings, and occasional home nurses to help with health needs.

Together, she and my dad have taught me so much about marriage by example, especially what the phrase "for better or worse" truly means. I can't comprehend the strain their situation must put on a marriage, but if they've had dark days, no one would ever know it. I've never seen a moment of pouting or self-pity — neither has time for it. They've been married for 28 years and still call each other nicknames, give good-bye kisses and get mad when the other one can't decide where they'll go out to eat.

By their example I've learned that nothing about a marriage is easy — but it is supposed to provide a pillar of support and love for the day when you find yourself unable to stand on your own two feet.

My family went through a significant adjustment after my dad's accident, but I believe we are all stronger and closer as a result of it. What binds us together is the strength and grace of my mom. When others would have given up or sunk within themselves, she pushed forward and gave our family a new "normal" grounded in love for each other. I'm so grateful that I have her as an example of such a giving wife, mother and person in my life today.