Baby Baby Baby

It was one of those "keepin' it real" life moments when the talk around the "water cooler" at work turned personal.  Sparked by a larger than life picture I posted of my boy.  A picture that takes the breath away and can bring moisture to the surface in 1.2 seconds.  Five years.  Yep.  Seems like yesterday yet feels like forever ago that those long arms surrounded my neck for a sweet hug.

March entered 2017 with attitude.  More rain, more snow.  As if to let us know that we're not in charge and just because the soul longs for warmth and sunshine after a long winter, it refuses to relent.

Just a short two weeks ago, on February 20th, I received a text message from mom that said "new heifer calf.  doing well".   Woo Hoo!  A little heifer.  Building on our small trio herd.  My "fine figure of a man" and I went to Lewis Acres to collect the stock trailer to take to the tire shop for some mending.  Dad was cutting wood in the lane.  His wood lined lane, impressive in itself, keeps growing while most people's wood pile is growing slim this time of year.  Dad, happy with the blessings that God is showering on them in the form of warmth, didn't seem to mind the rapid change of spring weather as it went from rain showers, wind to more wind and rain showers.

We took the trailer and headed on our way.  At 1:21, we received the second text "another calf on the ground".  Wow.  That bull was busy.  Dad had told me that after the first calf was born he felt like God told him "Now that bull was busy.  You'll have more calves soon".  We smiled and chuckled as dad said "I guess we'll know soon if it was God talking to me".  So I guess it's easy to say that dad heard from God that fine spring day.  Two calves later.  Two heifers.

My "fine figure of a man" and I fed the unsettled bunch that evening.  We caught the newborns for a pet, quick shot and a large yellow ear tag.  When the momma cows realized that we were handling their babies, they came running.  Whew.  Welcome to Lewis Acres!  Momma cow (aka "Sawyer's Cow") was the last of three to calve.  All signs indicated that it would be any moment.  Her milk production looked to be the highest yet.

Upon feeding time the next morning.  No baby yet.  I checked before work and again at lunch time.  The next mom text was "Tail is out.  We have small group tonight".  After checking and feeding, no calf.  We returned at 8:30 to check once again, and found another new baby.  The small contained field had turned into a nursery over night.  Three babies, two days.  We were feeling pretty zippy.

Two mornings later brought new concern.  Momma cow was down.  Dad called me at work with the news and said I should call the vet.  She was in pretty rough shape.  It was an emotional few hours with the information being Momma Cow was calcium deficient and needed an IV of 50cc's of calcium.   By the time I was able to secure the goods, gather my boots and meet Dad in the field, the future for our Momma Cow was looking pretty grim.  Long story short, her life was spared.  Two fine neighborly folk came to the rescue.  These lovely people doctored the failing momma as we stood right next to this "less than friendly momma cow" and her baby while she laid so still because she knew this was her only hope.  The bitter coldness of the day was no match for the determination of the human kindness being lathered on Momma Cow because her life was important and she had reasons to live and a baby calf to raise.  As the last drip of medicine entered her vein, she stood up and insisted that she move away from us, quickly.  She stood close, muscles quivering, with a determination that the medicine was going to make its way to the vital parts and life would move forward.

For me, it was an emotional day with the swelling waves crashing my shoreline.  Momma Cow and all she represents, the legacy of my young son, I suppose.  We were relieved that the results of the day were positive and thankful that our small herd of three + 3 were still all alive and that Momma Cow is still her same high headed self.

And there is something to knowing that the prayers you offer up are heard.

Matters of the Heart

It's those heart felt moments.  When you really feel the "wish wash" sound of the heart of another.  When you know that your broken heart is felt by the sheer compassion of that person looking you in the eye.  A knowing that life can be so brutal and the sharing is all that can be done.

A momma's heart feels many things.  This momma's heart knows that the stories others tell about their children are even more precious then they know.  A co-worker said "I'm sorry.  Sometimes I go on and on about my children.  Is it difficult?"  I smiled.  "No.  It's the way it is supposed to be" was my reply.  I remember the day, not so long ago of telling stories of school days.  Stories that linger in the hallways, bleachers and play grounds where my children attended.  The memories are good.

And I'm thankful for them.

The very next day, another momma shared her heart.  The memories that are a commonality with our families.  The good stuff.  The tough stuff.  "How do you cope?" was the question.  Cope.  Deal.  Get through.  All words that ran briefly through my mind.  Easy question really.  I shared with her that my faith is strong, unwavering.  Has been.  So thankful that I know who to call out to, who to turn to in the darkness of the sea of sorrow where I find myself.  I told her that Jesus is my answer.  That I spend many days laying at His feet.  The feeling of his soft robe against my cheek.  The ultimate comfort.

My heart.  I suppose that's the question.  Has it survived?  I described it to my friend as scar tissue.  Scar tissue never goes away.  Never changes.  You just learn to live with it and look past it when you look deep because it is just part of who you are.

My sister and her family taught me to look for heart rocks.  So everywhere I go, I look for these unexplained and amazing symbols of love.  It's not difficult, you just have to be alert and aware.  Recently on a trip to a high mountain lake with my family, I even found one that I didn't try to pack home.  It was the most perfect large heart rock I'd ever seen. 

But as my sister said, all rocks are Heart Rocks...some just aren't finished yet.

Help is On the Way Dear

The movie was a family favorite.  Watched so many times the kids could probably recite every line by heart.  Funny, laced with real life issues and some unimaginable turn of events.  Mrs. Doubtfire.  I'm sure you've seen it.

Last Friday evening found us in the fields of Lewis Acres.  A bull had been located for our fine herd of three and we were there to move, load and haul them to a place where the grass is greener!  Grandma and Papa were in.  Trevor, in... but sure this was going to take too long.  Friday night, ya know.  So our plan was to fast track things... make it quick.  With the plan in place, we felt like all the bases were covered.  That was before the cows decided they really didn't want to leave the field.

The tight knit group of blackness were pretty sure we had something up our sleeves and they certainly remembered the last time they were herded across the road.  That entailed shots and such and they knew they wanted to part of it.  So the plan was altered, and Trevor entered the field from his "keep them out of Greenview" post to lend a helping hand. 

Outmatched, the cows decided their best avenue was the gate and as they headed out to the open road, it was evident that we were a little light on the roadside assistance.  The cows headed west.  Grandma, wearing her SF Giants orange, was faced with the small herd all coming her way.

It was at that time that the four of us in the field realized that Grandma was hung out to dry with this situation.  Trevor, immediately went into protect mode.  "Grandma" he hollered.  "Make some noise!".   He took off in a striding run, leaped the wooden fence as if it was a high school hurdle instead of a chest high obstacle.  That's when the movie flashback happened.  I couldn't help but chuckle with the "Help is on the Way Dear!" heroic move this loving grandson made to help his Grandma. 

The cows did pretty well.  They went where they were supposed to go, loaded with incident, peered out the stock trailer with outstretched necks, milled around in the small area and waited.  The tires of the trailer were sketchy at best and with Papa's advise that "God will get you there", we took off while shaking our heads and wringing our hands. 

All in all, we made it.  I'm sure these beautiful bovine were wondering how they were so fortunate to enter a "greener than a gourd" field where the grass was shoulder high in spots.  In fine cow fashion, the perimeter of the field was quickly checked and rechecked.  Escape routes duly noted.

Back at the ranch, we celebrated a fine evening with Grandma and Papa over a giant pizza and in front of the Giants baseball game feeling accomplished with the evening activities and movement. 

Famous Last Words

The words, as I went out the door, were "it's not going to rain tonight so enjoy your daughter's game".  Once my foot hit the sidewalk in the open air of "after work", I cringed, shook my head ever so gently and thought to myself, "ya, now it's going to rain for sure".   With an extra lift in my step, thanks to the coffee that my "fine figure of a man" brought me at 4:10 p.m., I left the office to proceed on with my day.

The drive home surprised me.  Emotions of that magnitude don't hit me very often.  As the tears spilled over my lower lids, I had a feeling of grief that threatened to over take me.   But I've been there before.  It's no stranger.  Thankfully, my first line of attack is to not panic, not run.  Grief has become a friend.  A friend I have shaken hands with and have embraced.  As I allowed the wave to crash the shore, I had a strong feeling that a layer of grief was being shucked free. 

This morning during the wee hours, thoughts of the consistencies in our lives scrolled through my mind like the reel of a movie theatre.  So many things stayed constant.

We always ate homegrown beef, had dinner around the table with the family, loved Giants baseball and talked of basketball often, we raised a garden, fished in the summer and hunted bucks in the Fall.  We did things we loved and made every attempt to do what we should.  We worked, we played, we loved and argued.  Power struggles came and went.  We moved, settled, and moved again.  The boys raised pigs and heifers and warm summer nights were spent caring for, preparing and getting ready for the big county fair.  Backyard baseball, harvesting vegetables and walks down the lane were constant.  Cousins, aunts and uncles.    Grandparents, constant.  There were picnics at the "camp" during the summer and winter.   Basketball games in the front room.  Holidays were festive and the ocean, a family vacation favorite.  We were spontaneous and adventurous.  There was lots of love in this family of five with a knowledge that we could grow, encompass and enfold special ladies into our constant, loving family.

My thoughts included a wonderment of why this movie played for me on this day.  Maybe the upcoming weekend sparked more memories than I could fit into my daily basket.  I wonder if it is God's way of reminding me of what it was really like while raising a family, our family.  God's gift. 

So although there are a lot of days when the constant feeling doesn't feel right and I don't really know as much as I think I do, it's amazing when it God "stirs up by way of reminder" and places hope in the recesses of my memories. 

Home is Where the Heart Is

There's no place like home.  The cows know it, the puppies know it....and my "fine figure of a man" and I also know it. 

Tonight the task at hand was taking the recently purchased dog food to "Grandma and Papa's".  You see, it was determined that the puppies, Jessie and Lucy, should be at Grandma and Papa's for many reasons.  On any given day, you can find the puppies and Papa over at the barn, down the field, or just going for a ride in the truck.  They keep each other company.

Jessie is getting pretty old.  Sixteen in dog years takes her well beyond her years.  She may be old, blind and deaf but she can still smell and she moves about with that one sense alone.  She knew it was Grant and I and she made her way over for a pet.  She stood at my heel and when I didn't pay any attention to her, she touched my leg with her nose.  Sweet.

We visited the garden, talked about the lilac bushes that look more like trees and are happy, happy.  The bush in the front yard is epic.  I'm not sure I've ever seen that lilac with that many blooms.  Truly happy.

We watched a couple of ball games with the folks.  Not in full length but two different ball games.  Golden State Warriors and San Francisco Giants.  Thank the Lord for the channel changer.  Funny thing is I can remember the day of black and white TV's with the antenna.  Things sure have changed.

Papa wasn't ready for us to go and when we mentioned going home to take a walk, he suggested a group event.  The night was beautiful and as we strolled to the end of the lane, I talked of running bare foot on the road as a kid and that the curve of the road was the smoothest, we talked of the age of the pine trees Papa planted, the green, green grass and the recently planned fir trees that were oh so happy and already putting on new growth.  Grandma was happy about how good her legs felt and Lucy bounded ahead of some of her favorite people. 

Back at the house we noticed that the moon would be full in a couple of days.  And of course I had to say "The moon's not full Dad.  Not a good night for neckin'."   Dad chuckled, "Why not?"  he asked.  I chuckled. 

Family

The feeling that family is standing on all sides.  Holding each other up.  Another anniversary of our finest family-hold-us-up moment. 

Destination  -  the coast.   A coastline that holds many special memories.  Many spring break vacations.  And there's no crying or nudity in baseball moments.  It's a place of serene loveliness that speaks to the soul as the waves crash against the rock outcroppings, filling the tide poles and spraying toward heaven.

So in family fashion we went.  The staggering of arrivals made for excitement as vehicles were unpacked and food and beverage located a home.  VRBO once again hit the mark with spacious, clean digs toting a million dollar view.  

It was a relaxing, don't worry about much weekend with the biggest noise coming from the crowd and buzzers of March madness.  The singing of the whistles and the local crowd noise was like a choir of angels as the games came and went.  It was almost as if it was okay to enjoy this long loved game.  It was a feeling of comfort as it was known that our boy would have been right in the middle of it all had he been there.

The activities were staggered with the best memory of Papa, overhearing of plans for a bonfire, gathered drift wood.  In Papa style he piled his family the desire of their heart.  Papa has a reputation of course...one of the finest wood cutters, gather, burner you'll ever meet.  When a local resident showed up, hoping to find some easy wood, this thankful family did what we could to let him know it was our pile. 

Epic ice cream runs and rock hunting on the beach filled the time.  Treasures collected. 

Time among the tallest trees around.  Majestic beyond measure.

The pictures of the bowling time would have been too dark but reside in my head.  The old and young, enjoying will be with me for a while.  The memories are etch'd and make me smile. 

Silent grieving.  As time ticks on and year five begins, your head tells you it's time to move on.  Time to let it rest.  Time to lay it down.  The heart.  That's another matter.  The beginning was just that.  But I'm pretty sure there is no end....at least not until we reach the heavenly places.   Until then, the best family on earth surrounds and rounds. 

Saving Time

The time change can either make you or break you.....at least temporarily. 

With a start, I awoke on Sunday morning.  What time was it?  I couldn't tell.  My "fine figure of a man" nailed it.  At least by "old time".    The morning felt long, old, in an odd sort of way.  Oh ya....we sprung forward, making it all different.

The long days speak to my soul.  The light of day pushing into the early evening hours goes a long way to the reality that vitamin D will soon soak the epidermis of this same old soul.  I can't remember if daylight savings time always comes right before the most stressful week of my life.  Is it just a coincidence or is it Godly timing.  Within the borders of darkness, comes light.  Must have been a plan.

A few weeks ago, as I "commuted" my ten minutes from work, I noticed a patch of sunshine.  As I looked East and prepared to turn West, the sunshine struck me because the day was cloudy, dark and rainy.  In quick assessment, I realized that even in darkness there is light and when that light shines, it is evident and can't go unnoticed.  I wanted to stop.  I wanted to take a picture of the patch of lightness that lifted my heart and gave me hope.  I liken it to the darkness that at times lives within my thoughts and how God is the light in my world and the lifter of my head.  The hope that He was speaking to me.  That God doesn't leave me to feel darkness for long. 

Sunday ended up being the wettest day I can remember in a long time.  The lane at Lewis Acres, invisible as the rain, undaunted, continued to fall late into the evening.

The contrast of time after we begin "saving" it, looks better.  Appears broader and gives a sneaky peak into the face of summer.  So the change that makes people grumble as they run their hand over their hair as if to say, "I overslept and didn't have time to be presentable", makes smile because the unfounded concern so quickly turns to delight when the newness of old sleep seeps away.

More light, more warmth.  It's change.  It's new.  Embracing isn't always easy, isn't always accepted with open arms.  But as the long nights are hedged out by longer days, there's hope for outdoor activity and the endorphins that are begging to escape. 

So here's to the "time change" and daffodils.  Here's to the light that will fill your life if you let it.