What a 92-Year-Old Farm Girl Taught Me
- Amanda Lillemoe
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
Updated: 2 days ago
Lessons in resilience, work ethic, and the strength you build over a lifetime
“The only thing I can’t do anymore… is get down on my hands and knees and wash the floors.”
That’s what my grandma Doris told me at her 92nd birthday party.
Four months earlier, she had fallen, broken her pelvis, gone through surgery, and started a recovery that, if we’re being honest, most of us were quietly worried about. You hear the stories. At that age, sometimes people don’t bounce back.
But Doris did.
She finished physical therapy. She’s back in her home. She’s cooking her own meals, showering independently, and walking again—this time with a cane, which is the only real change.
And apparently… she had to hire someone to wash the floors.
This Is Who She Is
Doris was born in 1934 and spent most of her life on farms in Wisconsin and Minnesota.
Nothing about her life was fancy.
The farm was simple—family, animals, daily chores, and a steady routine.
Meals were consistent. Traditions didn’t change.
She worked her whole life.
On the farm. In the home. Raising three kids.
Later at places like Ben Franklin and Pamida.
She didn’t complain about work. Not once.
It wasn’t something she talked about. It was just something she did.
She’s direct. Unapologetic. Says exactly what she thinks.
Her laugh is loud—head thrown back, elbow in your side like she needs you to feel it too.
And no matter the occasion—holiday, family gatherings, anything—she’s wearing the same red apron while she works.
And quietly, always in the background, her faith. A steady sense of trust that she’s not carrying everything on her own.
That’s just who she is.
The Moment That Made Me Stop
When she fell, I was scared.
Truly scared.
I’ve heard too many stories about people in their 90s not recovering from something like that. I didn’t know if this was going to be the moment everything changed for her.
But when I saw her at her birthday party, something clicked.
She wasn’t diminished.
She wasn’t fragile.
She was… Doris.
Still sharp. Still independent. Still herself.
And when I told her how amazed I was at her recovery, she brushed it off. Made a joke. Moved on.
No big speech. No reflection on how hard it was.
Just… back to life.
Hard Work Was Never a Choice for Her
It made me realize something:
Doris didn’t “decide” to be resilient at 92.
She’s been practicing resilience for over 90 years.
Farm life didn’t just teach her how to work—it wired her for it.
You don’t wake up and wonder if you feel like working when you grow up that way.
You don’t wait for motivation.
You don’t look for shortcuts.
You move. You solve. You push through. Every single day.
And alongside that work ethic—a belief that even when life is hard, you’re not facing it alone.
That becomes your baseline.
What We’ve Forgotten About Work
I spend my career in marketing, project management, and corporate environments.
And I see something very different.
We talk a lot about:
Productivity
Burnout
Work-life balance
Efficiency
All important. All valid.
But we don’t talk enough about endurance.
Or faith.
Not necessarily in a formal sense, but in the idea that you keep going even when outcomes aren’t guaranteed. That you trust the process. That you stay grounded when things feel uncertain.
We optimize everything—but sometimes we lack the foundation that carries you through when things get hard.
Because eventually, things always get hard.
Lessons from a 92-Year-Old Farm Girl
Here’s what Doris has shown me—lessons I think translate directly into how we work and lead today:
1. Consistency Beats Intensity
She didn’t sprint through life. She showed up every day for decades.
In marketing, we chase big campaigns and spikes of performance.
But the real wins come from consistent execution over time.
2. You Don’t Need Motivation—You Need Standards
Doris didn’t wait to “feel like it.”
Work got done because that’s what you do.
In today’s world, we rely heavily on motivation.
But the people who go furthest rely on discipline.
3. Independence Is Built, Not Given
At 92, she still wants to do everything herself.
That didn’t happen overnight.
In our careers, ownership is everything.
The more you take responsibility, the more valuable you become.
4. Pride in the Small Things Matters
She was washing her floors on her hands and knees at 91.
Let that sink in.
There’s dignity in doing things well—even the things no one sees.
In marketing, details matter. Execution matters. Craft matters.
5. Adapt Without Losing Yourself
She hired help. She didn’t love it. But she adapted.
She didn’t let one limitation define her.
In our careers, we all hit moments where things change.
The key is adjusting—without losing momentum.
6. You Don’t Have to Carry Everything Alone
For as strong and independent as she is, Doris has never operated like she has to do life entirely on her own.
Her family, friends, and faith have always been there—guiding, grounding, and steadying her.
In work and in life, there’s strength in knowing when to push…and when to trust.
The Part That Hit Me Personally
I’ll be honest.
I’m in my 40s… and I already have someone who cleans my house.
I don’t get down on my hands and knees to wash my floors.
And I had this moment where I thought—
Should I be?
Not because there’s anything wrong with getting help.
But because it made me question what builds strength over time.
Where am I like her?
I was raised with these same values.
I was the first in my family to go to college—just like she was one of the first in hers to graduate high school.
And in my career, I’ve had to “farm my way through” more times than I can count.
Corporate event management taught me how to think fast, solve problems, and push through when things don’t go as planned.
Marketing and leadership have only reinforced that.
But still… I wonder.
Will I Be Like Her at 92?
I asked her that.
If I’d still be like her—living independently, strong, resilient, laughing the way she does.
I hope so.
I hope I have her strength.
Her resilience.
Her independence.
Her ability to keep going.
And her ability to trust.
And yes—her skin.
(For the record, I’m doing my part with sunscreen. So far, so good.)
But more than anything, I hope I’ve built the kind of life that makes that possible.
Maybe That’s the Real Question
We spend so much time thinking about where we want to go in our careers.
The promotions. The titles. The next step.
But maybe the better question is:
What kind of person are we becoming along the way?
Because Doris didn’t just build a life.
She built strength.
She built resilience.
She built faith.
The kind that carries you through—at every stage.
Even at 92.
