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Resurrection of my soul…

Like the rock being rolled away from the tomb, this weekend has felt like the resurrection of my own soul.

From whence the countless days of study my mind hath prevailed, it felt as if there would never be an end to the grinding, arduous task of pushing my faculties to complete one more problem; one more page; one more concept of Mathematical computation from which there was seemingly no end.

This was just the final chapter in three years of study. Coming into the field of education as a Lateral Entry Teacher, there were the required Education Classes to be taken that my Engineering degree never afforded. This in conjunction with the learning curve of applying the pedagogy real-time was my learning curve which became a daily experience. But, yet, God in all his wondrous glory, finally answered the prayers for wisdom. So that this weekend, the first, since having recovered from another round of illness the previous, has set me free to pursue the path the Lord hath prepared well in advance.

Deep within my being, there was an awareness of His hands upon the pages of events which would unfold.

Weeks before, the singing engagement for the New Hope SDA Church in Valdese had to be postponed because I had contracted the flu. Too sick to make it out of bed, it had to be delayed; which just so happen to be this weekend.

Then, out of the blue, another church, one we had been members of before leaving our farm and previous life, Cumnock Union UMC, called asking if I would be interested in returning to sing and speak. Miraculously, it was the same weekend. This all happened before the upcoming test that was scheduled for March 22nd.

In my heart, it felt as if God was telling me, that this would be it; this would be the final attempt, the one in which I would pass. He was preparing the pathway of the future because it was time to move on.

I didn’t realize it then, but those words would be more prophetic than one might realize.

Adding to the feeling of culmination, the weekend before the test, my laptop decided that it had enough and was going to finally die. Contrary to my disbelief, I asked God to again give me the wisdom, and through a few more attempts of using the education from my previous career, something inside me clicked again; the feeling of confirmation. A voice whispered, “Before you leave this afternoon, the sign of things to come will be that your laptop will be working better than ever before.” Within an hour of that voice, after an upload, a couple restarts, and driver addition or two, suddenly, the old laptop finally responded. It wasn’t just fixed from the current problem, but as He has predicted, it suddenly began working better than it had in almost two years; Divine IT Guidance at its best!

From that point forward, there was a feeling of God’s hand upon each new day.

Yet, He wasn’t going to let it be easy. A new cold began to overtake me so that by the morning of the test, Friday, March 22nd,  I literally debated going or not. Shaking my head in disbelief, I struggled to the cupboard and took enough cold medicine to hold me through the duration of the exam.

This can’t be happening,” I thought to myself.

A couple of hours later, in a cloud of medication, I walked into the testing facility, unsure of how much it might affect my ability to focus. Once more, God wasn’t through with me. When I met the test administrator, after handing me the sign-in sheet, unlike previous tests when I either had to ask for or was never close enough to obtain it, I was given my favorite locker number: God’s number in my mind, #3. (God the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit). Then to add to the feeling of confirmation, unlike before, I was also given light colored paper; something I had complained about in previous attempts since the paper was so dark it was hard to see the marks of a pencil.

As I sat down at desk #3 in the testing lab, my body began to tingle with the power of God surging through me. The first few questions were a cloud of foggy, cold-medicine induced confusion, but once the surge of energy fully kicked in, I went back and corrected those and then began pushing onward.

Before I knew it, the 2-1/2 hours was nearly up.

Again, unlike before, at the end of the test, after having fully completed the test and had time to go back over questions that I was unsure of or needed more time to solve, I sat and saw 30 seconds remaining. I bowed my head in prayer and when I said, “Amen,” the clock showed three seconds remaining. When the timer ended, and my hand clicked onto the next page, tears began to fill my eyes.

There on the screen was the answer to three years of night classes, almost 10 months of study for just one test, isolation, withdrawal from the world, and diligent obedience to my newfound career; A Passing Score!

It was one of the most surreal moments of my life; here I wanted to shout, but I was so sick I could barely breathe.

Throughout the ordeal, I had vowed to celebrate with a cinnamon roll and coffee whenever the day came that I might pass. Instead, the reward that morning was to drive back home and go back to bed and try to recover from the illness that had overcome days earlier.

I would remain sick in bed the rest of that weekend, while outside the warmth of spring tapped at my window sill. Sunlight sparkling through the closed slats of my bedroom windows, taunting my fever-racked body.

Eventual, healing would begin. This weekend became even more precious as the days of this last week counted down. By Friday I was like a student ready for the end of the school year. My energy level was off the charts.

When Saturday morning broke, I was as a child waking before the dawn in anticipation of opening gifts under the Christmas tree, it was long before the light of day when the bed couldn’t contain my eagerness any longer. Jumping from beneath the covers, the anticipation of the joy of the day’s events kept gurgling up into my heart, like the overabundant rapture, frothing to the surface; the Spring in my soul had returned.

“Today, the new journey begins,” my mind said.

From the moment the fellowship and sharing began at New Hope, the blessings only increased.

There was so much to be thankful for and yet, so much more to come.

Later, when the rear tire blew out going down the Interstate at 70mph, I was unfazed. For in my mind I had already contemplated getting off at the next exit to get gas. This was God’s way of saying, “Yes you will!” Within an hour, there were two new tires on the back of the car, and I was once more off to my destination for the second half of my weekend; God was with me each step of the way.

Resurrected like our Lord and Savior, my spirit has been revived. Like Jesus, the grave could not contain him; God defeated Death, and from its dark domain, Light will forever be in the world.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Thanks be to God.


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In Memory of the Herd…

The newborn calf lay before me, its body still wet from its mother licking her, doing 1013088_10201316525421013_897357306_nanything she could to revive the nearly dead infant. The heat was oppressive as I wiped the sweat from my eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. Something was dreadfully wrong. Colleen, the calf’s mother, had never had problems calving and was one of my best and oldest brood cows. Yet, she was stressed to her breaking point and the stretch of hottest days this summer didn’t help. I had been away from the farm during her birth and was just now coming upon the scene. The neighbors had called to alert me to the fact there was something wrong; the growing flock of buzzards was their omen. As I approached the baby, buzzards advanced with me setting Colleen into a frenzy of protective moves trying her best to keep them at bay. As I knelt to pet the calf and feel for life, there was still warmth to the body, just barely. As I examined her, the problem became painfully obvious; she was blind. The eyes were clouded over with a milky film which had prevented her from being able to leave the shelter of the scrub brush in which she was trapped.

The death birds had an uncanny ability to sense death’s door even before it opened. They were sometimes known to assist the animal’s end by beginning to dig out the soft pockets of flesh, a torment of unrealistic thought, something Satan himself might prescribe. Thus, as I tried to help bring the calf to safety, the vultures tried to impede our progress by lurching within reach of the precious cargo I tried to carry through the thick underbrush. Thankfully, Colleen was nearby and provided the additional protection we needed in order to escape. It was then I realized her lower udders had been ripped from some ancient barbed wire that was in the thicket from where we had just emerged; another problem and probable cause to the calf not nursing. Time was not on our side; I had multiple problems and things were not getting any easier.

Looking back, it was a touch and go prospect from the very beginning. The lack of colostrum in the calf’s system was the first and immediate setback, not to mention the extreme dehydration that had nearly killed it. Then the fact that the triple digit heat was wearing us all thin, physically and emotionally. I immediately prepared a mixture of colostrum and Gatorade to feed her, hoping to quickly replace her lost fluids, it was all we could do at that point. Nearby in the pasture, Colleen paced back and forth on the fence line trying to keep an eye on her newborn.

Had this happened a few years before, I certainly would have lost her. However, the good Lord prepares with each step along the way, teaching, strengthening and guiding us so that we may become who we need to be at the right moment in time. This was most certainly the case because it took every bit of animal husbandry I had learned, every ounce of stamina and all the faith I could muster to believe in what I knew. I would give her every vitamin shot, antibiotic, and extra energy supplements I could find in addition to helping feed her since her mother was still wounded and in pain from the fencing injury. Meanwhile, I had to try to doctor Colleen’s ripped udder sack. So many problems persisted that I could have just easily given up, walked away and let nature takes its course, but that wasn’t my way. I scoured every incident I could find online and spoke to fellow farmers and vets who knew of similar cases. She had evidently been born while either she or her mother had a fever, possibly from a flu-like illness, thus the blindness. After the virus had passed, it was a matter of keeping infection at bay. The good news was that sometimes the blindness was only temporary. To help heal her eyes, I would rub the antibiotic directly into them, like washing away the clouds.

More than once I would go out to where I had penned mother and calf to find a near lifeless body and once more, vultures close enough to take the precious being before her time. Each time I would chase them off and to my best to doctor the needs of the young animal. Toward the end of the third day of round the clock care, I had done everything that could possibly be done for her. By then I had named her Helen, after the other famous blind person I had learned about so many years before. It was then I realized I had done all I could do and God would have to take it from here. Early the next morning on the fourth day, I checked on mother and calf to find she had finally nursed on her own; thank you, Lord! The wounds on Colleen had finally healed enough so that she could feed her baby.

From then on, both calf and cow improved and before long, it was just a distant memory.

936431_10201386352046635_1598802811_nHelen grew to be a fine brood cow in her own right, taking after her mother. Her eyesight eventually returned to normal and you would have never known she had once been blind. Colleen would have other calves after that summer without any problems. Some might say it was time for her to go to the sale, “Put wheels on her,” they would add. When you raise a herd from the beginning and know the animals like the back of your hand, there are times you know deep down that there is more to the story than meets the eye; as was the case that beleaguered summer of Helen’s birth.

I’ve been around cattle most of my life. Growing up in southern Indiana, both my paternal and maternal grandparents had cows; dairy and beef, respectively. So it was nothing new when my dad raised one or two for sustenance. However, when the size of the herd gets smaller, the contact becomes more personal, almost too personal. I can recall the time my dad described taking the steer we named “Bull” off to market. As he looked back in the rearview mirror, he could see an animal that had been nothing but trouble. Bull was always getting into some sort of mischief or another. One time, in particular, I can vividly remember seeing him walk up below me as I sat on the roof of the barn, nailing on the new tin. He picked up a bag of roofing nails I had left on the ground and began to shake them like a dog shakes a toy. Nails flew from one end of the barnyard to the other. Yet, through all that, you might think my father would be glad to take him to slaughter, yet here he was looking back with tears in his eyes. That’s the moment you realize the animal you raise is more than just another meal, but a member of the family.

So, this past summer when I had to sell off my herd, it was more than just simply cattle in bloomstaking animals to market; it was saying goodbye to a family that I had grown for the past 18 years. Each momma cow had her own characteristics, traits and look that I knew without having to use numbers or brands. Their calving seasons were as predictable as the coming dawn. There was a comfort knowing that if all else failed, we still would have a reserve of food and resources if needed; yes, my cattle were in a sense, my farm bank, my life’s work.

There was recently a sign that was going around for a Christmas gift that said something like, “Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy cows, and that’s pretty much the same thing.”

Many won’t get it, but for those few who’ve ever owned cattle, we do.

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” –Matthew 11:28

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