Not long ago I got a message from a friend, asking if she could bring her daughter, son-in-law and his parents to our farm. Their son-in-law and his parents are from Ukraine.

We became instant friends as they arrived and stood in our driveway. The father pointed at my husband’s cap, smiled and said (something), immediately recognizing the seed corn emblem. That was surprising to us. Their son translated his father’s words.

It’s interesting communicating when language is a major barrier. Still, smiles and sincere handshakes speak the same language all over the world.

We went to our machine shed to show them what we use to grow our crops.

The father (Sasha) is a farmer there, growing (primarily) wheat, with sunflowers in the rotation every four years. He told us through his very kind son, Vitaliy, that they can’t grow sunflowers more often than that because they take too many nutrients from the soil.

Sasha asked questions about our machinery, climbed up into the combine and looked over our tractor and planter. My husband asked how much land they farm, and how the number of acres we farm computed into hectares — the standard by which they measure land in Ukraine. They got a handful of soybeans to see and touch, and we learned their wheat is pushed into a shed with a loader to be stored until it can be marketed.

We took them to see our neighbors at Jones Dairy, and they marveled at the large carousel parlor, and the cleanliness and comfort experienced in the free-stall barns … and Sasha talked about how more young people need to become farmers — there and here.

Sasha’s wife, Valentina, said she helps more with the farm now since her two children left to live in the U.S. I couldn’t tell if it was pride or sadness on her face as she communicated that to us, but help is scarce there because of the war, and families must do what they must do to keep the family business going. We could relate to that.

Valentina gazed at our vegetable gardens, and marveled at all that was growing there. She smelled the flowers on the hasta plants, and stood quietly amazed at the view of the countryside from our front yard. I wondered how much time she gets to just enjoy living.

She told us when the war started she took a course on how to sew uniforms for their soldiers, and went to work doing that for their country. She has since sewn some amazing things, which she showed us on her phone. She even made the clothing she was wearing.

And then came the kicker.

“Until the war, I had never even held a needle in my hand,” she said via her phone.

There was so much to say and so little time. We shared some fresh apple crisp and ice cream together, and were sad and sorry when they had to leave.

We were the guests at a farm in Germany in 2019, which our foreign exchange daughter arranged; and now we got to host the same kind of farm visit here. We hope it will be unforgettable to them, just as that farm visit in Germany was unforgettable to us.

It was fascinating to think that with the war in Ukraine in its fourth year now, they could/would leave their country for a month-long stay in the U.S. to visit both of their children. They told us the war had not yet come to southern Ukraine.

Their prayers are fervent.

We were two farm couples living the same kinds of lives, but under very different circumstances. When they left, we said we would pray for Ukraine; they seemed grateful.

I hugged Valentina, and Sasha shook my husband’s hand … a couple of times; then he hugged my husband. It was really a moment, in which it became obvious that farmers are part of a worldwide brotherhood.

Kindness really is the shortest distance between people of different nations.

Sasha and Valentina are farming while their country is at war; we were reminded in a sobering way that farmers may not love the circumstances under which they labor, but they still love doing what they do.

In that way, we realize that farmers are much the same all around the world.

Karen Schwaller writes from her grain and livestock farm near Milford. She can be reached at kjschwaller@outlook.com