Got Milk?
On a sunny afternoon in June long before the sultry summer sun had turned glorious green to brittle brown, the little ones and I took a drive around the lake. We followed a dusty gravel road through emerald fields of beans and knee-high sprouts of corn until we reached the summit where the lake shimmered just beyond the hill. The cool blue sky stretched as far as an eye could see and a warm white farm house greeted us with a forgotten familiarity.
The screen door swished open as gravel ground beneath our wheels and the farmer’s wife met our slowing van on the bumpy drive. She flashed a grin that whisked me back to childhood and waved an over-sized baby bottle in happy greeting. She took my little ones’ hands, like she long ago had taken mine, and gently led them through the farmyard to a quiet wooden barn where a baby calf anxiously awaited its afternoon meal.
Born in the middle of a fierce summer storm, the calf’s natural bond with its mother had been disrupted, leaving the white-splotched baby at the mercy of human hands. Today, Hannah’s hands would do the honors. Adorned with poke-a-dot mud boots and an eager smile, my tender one tromped to the pen where the ravenous calf waited and extended her arms in a maternal gesture of love. With a snort, the soft brown baby lunged for the giant bottle. Hungrily, it sucked the milk dry and then transferred its sloppy pink tongue to Hannah’s face in hopes of finding more. Hannah tumbled to the ground under the sheer weight of the young calf and with a nervous giggle, she scrambled over the fence to safety.
The baby bovine mooed for more, while Hannah murmured assurance that the farmer would return when the sun had set. We relinquished the bottle to the farmer’s wife and went out to explore the farm. Hannah asked questions about the little cow. We learned that in time it would sidle up to a trough and drink on its own. But until then, it would sip sustenance from the hands of love.
The next morning when my own little one stumbled from bed and climbed sleepily onto my lap, I couldn’t shake the picture of that hungry baby calf. “I need chocwat milk and duh Wurd,” Joshua mumbled as he slid off of my knee and stumbled groggily for the book shelf where his children’s Bible sat.
I set down my own Bible and closed the prayer journal that held my heart’s deepest cries. The words I’d scribbled just moments before my littlest boy rose from sleep said it all: “Please give my children an appetite for your truth, Father. Like newborn babies craving milk, may they hunger for your Word.” Joshua opened his Bible to the story of David and Goliath and snuggled close. One day he will open the worn pages and read the words on his own. But today, the hands of love will feed his soul.
I picked up the bottle and held it to my offspring’s lips. Now David was the youngest son of Jesse, and his brothers were soldiers in the army. One day, when David brought his brothers their lunches, he saw Goliath…
My son exhaled a serene sigh and drank deeply.
My son exhaled a serene sigh and drank deeply.
The Overflow: Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation -1 Peter 2:2
I love your blog, you are very encouraging! Found you from the flourishing mother.
Yes we would love to show some “city kids” around the farm. Come on over and get a taste of farm life in Iowa. Wish we still had baby pigs and lambs to show you, but have to admit life is easier without all those chores. Sure we could convince our JD boy Josh to go on a ride on the gator.
Hugs, Aunt Jan
The calf has moved to a new farm, but my aunt and uncle would LOVE a clan of “city kids” to come explore their rural paradise. Let’s take our little farmers soon! It’s just around the lake. Great excuse for an outing, don’t you think?
That’s the same prayer that I pray daily! Love this post…as I always do…your an amazing writer…and an even more amazing mom!
Now where is this farm…what an awesome experience…can you get us a pass to feed the calf! 😉