Saturday, February 16, 2013

Friday Night Fun

Last night, while I was dozing peacefully on my couch, the phone blasted a shrill note in my ear.  "Glen, we have a problem.  We have cows in our front yard." said Marshall.  "Hmm, are you sure?" says I.  "Yes," says he "can you go to the barn and see where they came from and I will send head your way?"  "Sure"  I reply.  So off I go with children in tow.  I leap upon my trusty steed, four wheeler, and head for the barn.  I notice a gate open at the far end so I investigate.  The chain is hanging wearily around one of the spars with the bolt still through a link.  I spy the nut lying neatly on the concrete wall.  "Boys" I think to myself.  Upon further investigation the truth will come forth.  However, tampering with said bolt was heatedly denied.  So we assume some nosy cow spent an incredible amount of time turning the nut of the bolt with her tongue.  But the story has only begun.  As I rounded the barn I noticed a cow laying in a place that would be very uncomfortable, over the drop box.  The drop box is a box in which the manure falls before it floats through a pipe to the manure pit.  She wasn't exactly over it she was more in it.  Both rear legs were hanging uselessly down in the box.  After much thought and prodding she pulled one foot up onto the concrete.  We had the skid loader handy and gave her a boost for which she was quite thankful I am sure.  I am also sure she is fairly sore.  While we were helping the cow out of the box the other 90 cows in the group were sprinting gleefully around the farm.  Over hill over dale the cows hit the dusty trail or go swimming in the pit.  I know she did I saw here climb out.  Wimpy was her name.  When we finally got them in we noticed a dry cow in the another barn who wouldn't rise up and walk.  So, we brought the skid loader around, loaded her in the bucket and hauled her to the pre-fresh  barn so she would be more comfortable.  I was hoping getting her off of concrete and onto sawdust would work wonders in her morale and she would hope up and take a bow.  Unfortunately this didn't happen.  So we gave her a shot of banamine for swelling.  I was assuming she had injured herself.  Plus when she tried to get up she would only make it half way up.  It appeared that she had a back injury.  However my fading memory pulled some cow history out of the grey matter while milking this morning.  I remembered we had dried 375 off very early because she had quit milking.  I didn't think about it at the time because she didn't look sick or anything.  I assumed she was wanting a long vacation.  I am now thinking she has a deeper issue.  I think it is sin...   Or perhaps cancer...   Cancer would explain why she wouldn't get up.  The tumor is putting pressure on the nerves and she can't get up.  Poor cow...  Poor me...  Such is life on the funny farm...

Thursday, February 07, 2013

Soul Searching

I didn't pay attention to when I last posted something.  It is has been far to long.  Well for some of you maybe it hasn't been long enough.  I have been searching my soul lately.  I have found this tends to be a good practice if it is done honestly.  For those of you know what council meeting is I have come to the conclusion that searching ones soul should probably happen more than twice a year. 
What I have discovered is the depth of my searching is directly related to how stressful my life is.  Is this a true statement: The easier your life is the less you search your soul.  For me this is true.  I tend to go about my life, trying desperately to hold all the loose ends together.  Suddenly I find myself waking up  at two in the morning, when I am not milking, and lying in bed pondering life.  Asking myself questions.  At this point in the process these questions are not soul searching questions as much as they are how can I fix the problem myself questions.  This tends to go on for days, weeks, years....   Ok I think that is an exaggeration but definitely days.  Last fall I was really struggling financially, still am to be frank.  I spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how I was going to pay the bills.  I am sure you want to know the answer to this question.  I would like to know it as well.  There was no way we could pay the bills.  So I began a dialogue with the bank.  In the middle of this whole process I became more and more confused, depressed, moody and unhappy.  What a miserable way to live.  One morning I read I Cor. 14;33.  The verse speaks about God being the author of peace not confusion.  The only way to describe the feeling that came over me is to suggest that it was like the sun coming up.  The dawn of a beautiful day.  A morning with grass dripping with dew and the first rays of the sun are fiery orange with pink, lavender, and red mixed in.   Isn't it an incredible blessing to know that God doesn't want us to live in confusion?  That he wants us to trust Him and allow him to work. To bad this isn't easy but if it was easy we wouldn't need Him. This, my friend, is how I search my soul.  How do you do it?