Hubby prefers to move cattle the conventional way, on horseback and with a dog, driving and turning the cows via pressure from behind or beside. But since our pastures are nearby, we don’t have to trail our cows far, and I like to call the cows. Although I’m disqualified from the ranks of “cowgirls”, I love that my cows recognize my voice and trust me enough to follow.
A few days ago, we woke up to dense fog (see photo). The herd needed to be moved a ways down the canal road. I was far enough ahead that they couldn’t see me in the fog, but when I called, they filed out the gate onto the road.
Said road was a slimy, miry mess from rain and snow, so my progress was slow. Daisy Mae, Blossom, and Penelope soon caught up. As we squelched through the mud to the tune of a meadowlark duet, I felt such joy to be sharing that moment with my big, beautiful friends. When we got there, Annabelle nuzzled my ear. Princess and Sparkle licked my hand.
I think some folks see the Lord as a cowboy, pushing and prodding, roping and dragging, hollering when we hang back, chasing us down when we stray. But I think He’s more like me. I think He’d rather walk with us—despite the muck and mess—and lead us with love to a better place.
“No longer do I call you slaves…but I have called you friends….” –JOHN 15:15 (NASB)