One Goat Open Sleigh

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh….

Although I’ve never ridden in a one-horse open sleigh, I take their word for it about the fun. At Christmastime, I decorate with miniature sleighs, jingle bells, and pictures and plates depicting the nostalgic horsey pastime. I daydream about driving Sugar around the place with a sleigh full of smiling kids, but even if I had a sleigh and knew how to train her to pull it safely, we seldom have enough snow. I wonder if they make a sleigh with a drop-down axle-and-wheel option.

Times have certainly changed from those on the Currier and Ives scenes of yore when horses pulled sleighs, ice sleds, and hay wagons nearly every winter’s day. In spring, summer, and fall, horses did what cars, trucks, and tractors do now. Not only do modern-day horses have much more leisure time, they’ve managed it so that people are often conveying them. It’s not uncommon to see horses riding around in pickup-trailer outfits that cost more than a small house.

Goats, on the other hand, get a lot less respect. Meels and Blueberry, for example, are transported in a dog kennel in the back of the pickup, which is even less glamorous than what average ranch horses and cattle are hauled in, a gooseneck stock trailer. When I’m seen driving the latter, I get a lot of lifted hands and nods (a standard Wyoming greeting from one rancher to another), but when I’m driving the goatmobile, there’s no such regard.

I don’t mind. If folks knew how feed-efficient, sweet, and comical goats are, and how easy they are to load (no training or cowboying required—if they don’t want to get in, one simply lifts them), then goats would be elevated to a higher rung on the ladder of livestock society. People would not only make eye-contact with us goat chauffeurs, they might even tip their cowboy hats!

 

“But the eyes of the LORD are on those who fear Him, on
 those whose hope is in His unfailing love.” –PSALM 33:18

 

 

The Merry is Optional

Billings, Montana, our nearest shopping mecca, is nearly a three hours’ drive from here, so a trip there for Christmas and grocery shopping became something of a marathon the other day. I suspected that I wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed, as the tension and weariness that I saw on so many faces seemed to mirror my own.

Perhaps some of those folks struggle with the same disorder that I do: GIPS (Gift Indecision and Procrastination Syndrome). Symptoms include hesitation and vacillation, such as: Will they like it? Do they already have one? Does it cost too much? If not, does it look too cheap? Is it the right color, size, type, or style? Could I find a better gift at another store? I should probably keep looking. Maybe I’ll find something better…. After a few hours of such deliberation, my spirit of the season soon evaporated and was blown away by the icy Billings wind.

Some of us also contend with CCS (Christmas Codependence Syndrome) in which we operate under the assumption that it’s up to us to ensure joy to the world, peace on earth, and goodwill amongst men. Alas, when joy fizzles out, peace unravels, and goodwill goes AWOL, we realize that we’re not up to the task. In and of themselves, our fudge can’t sweeten bitterness, our cookies can’t quench fears, our gifts can’t heal heartache, our lights can’t lift heavy spirits, and our decorations can’t disguise bleakness.

And so it recently dawned on me that I can’t make Christmas merry. Christmas is a gift given to everyone, but each of us is free to decide whether or not to take and open it. Grace, mercy, love, joy, peace, and hope are lovingly offered but not always received or shared. Christmas is a choice!

 



“For to us a child is born, to us a Son is given….And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” ISAIAH 9:6

 

 

Eighty Winks

Just like people, animals have routines. By mid-morning, just about every animal on this outfit is napping—the cat on the bed, the dog on the loveseat, the cows scattered here and there near the corrals, and the horses in the back pasture. My mare, Sugar, is the soundest snoozer of them all. She lies flat on her side, often with her legs stretched out straight like she’s got a good case of rigor mortis.

I bought Sugar when she was three. Just after I wrote the check and was handed the bill of sale, Hubby and I headed to her corral to catch her and take her home. When we got there, we both looked at each other and inhaled deeply. I’ll never forget my first thought: Great! I just bought a dead horse! Well, we figured out she was just napping, but she was sleeping so soundly that she was difficult to rouse.

We soon got used to Sugar’s daily super-siesta, but we forgot to tell our neighbors. One day while on a road trip, my cell phone rang. “Something’s wrong with Sugar!” my nearest neighbor wailed. “She’s stretched out stiff as a board! My daughter and I went over to check on her, but she just moans and groans!”

 

 

   "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” 

MATTHEW 11:28

 

Cupcake

I confess to an inordinate fondness for blue heelers, cats, rose bushes, chocolate, and frosting. I find them irresistible. In my opinion, blue heelers, cats, rose bushes, chocolate, and frosting are indisputable proof that God is good and everything He does is very good. Such theology comes in handy when I need to justify any weakness for or overindulgence in blue heelers, cats, rose bushes, chocolate, and frosting.

Naturally, when I first laid eyes on this adorable heifer, I thought, Frosting! A chocolate cupcake with fluffy white frosting! So Cupcake was christened.

Hubby really likes Cupcake’s refinement and femininity, which he says is a good predictor of reproductive efficiency. Hubby’s a retired ag teacher and Future Farmers of America advisor, so his evaluation of Cupcake is based on more academic criteria than mine. I tend to assess cows according to docility, ease of calving (translation: they don’t need a human midwife), and cuteness—in that order.

In four months, we’ll find out what kind of mama Cupcake is. But she’s already got the cuteness thing nailed!

 



“Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see - how good God is. Blessed are you who run to him.” –PSALM 34:8

 

The Smell of Grace

My sister, Jenny, and I were reminiscing yesterday about our childhood Christmases. Papa, our grandfather, could very well have been the inspiration for Santa Claus—not in appearance but in heart. Every year, he’d sneak an eye-popping green bill into our pockets and whisper, “For Christmas!” It went without saying that the money was only to be used for the purchase of presents for the family.

In those days, we had no mall or Walmart, so Papa took Jenny and me downtown to the JCPenney store, where, we recall, we always chose pretty much the same gifts: Estee Lauder bath powder for Mimi, our grandmother; Estee Lauder perfume for Mom; and Old Spice aftershave for Dad. Later, we’d accompany a parent to buy Papa a new package of tobacco for his pipe. Although our aromatic Christmas presents were predictable, they were always received with mock surprise and, apparently, delight.

“Do you think they really did want the same thing every year, or they just pretended that they loved them?” I asked Jenny. She didn’t know either. In our family, the graces of giving and receiving were so sincerely and artfully practiced that the gifting was valued higher than the gift.

Speaking of aromatic:  Sometimes I wish technology would enable me to embed a “touch-and-sniff” feature to my blog. If so, I’d attach the aroma of freshly-baked ginger cookies cooling on my counter right now.  Next to Sugar’s photo, I’d attach another one that would allow you to breathe in the same warm, tangy fragrance that I do when I bury my cold nose in her furry neck. And when the breeze blew in from the southeast, I’d capture (and attach) the sweet, heady aroma of corn silage that neighbors across the river feed to their cows in the winter. But I graciously will not attach a whiff of Mt. Odoriferous, the manure pile composting in the back corral. That’s one gift that might not be appreciated!

“And from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” –JOHN 1:16

 

 

 

No Reservations Required

According to the Wyoming Game and Fish Department and our “local” news station (which hails from Casper, a 3-hr drive away), deer and other wildlife are suffering ill effects from the drought. I’m sure they’re right; however, animals that live anywhere near irrigated hayfields are getting along just fine, as you can see from the photo below, taken just before dusk last night. Just like our livestock, there’s not a skinny one in the herd!

 

 

Every night, two to three dozen mule deer (and the occasional flock of geese) take advantage of our all-you-can-eat alfalfa buffet, which Hubby has dubbed the Golden Corral Game Preserve. Our customers are non-paying, unless you count the—ahem—fertilizer that they leave behind for next year’s growing season.

We don’t mind the beautiful freeloaders because there’s plenty for everyone. We’re particularly fond of this buck, who we think is a descendant of a gorgeous monster buck that used to frequent our fields before he was poached a few years ago. The other deer make their way closer to the river during the daytime, but this guy stays here, where he seems to know he’s safe.

 

 

“You, O LORD, will not withhold Your compassion from me; Your lovingkindness and Your truth will continually preserve me.” –PSALM 40:11

 

Bubbles

Bubbles is, by far, the smallest of the Heffies but is, arguably, one of the cutest. Indeed, she is the most vocal. I don’t know if she’s the elected spokesperson of the group or just self-appointed, but if there’s an opinion, complaint, or request to be voiced, Bubbles articulates it—loudly. I don’t speak moo, but given the context, I usually get the general idea of what she’s saying. An example: Enough of this worming business! It’s time to let us out!! Or: We don’t like these stems at the bottom of the feeder! We’re ready for a fresh bale!!

Of course, I can’t prove that those were her exact words. A bovine linguist might interpret better than I. But if I had a recording to play, I’m sure listeners would agree with me on this: all of Bubble’s sentences end with at least one exclamation point!

 



“May the God of your hope so fill you with all joy and peace in believing…that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound and be overflowing (bubbling over) with hope.” –ROMANS 15:13