Growing Pains

While I’m aware that all over cow country folks wean their calves at different times and in different ways, there’s no sound I associate more with fall in cow country than bawling calves.

In fact, this blog is being written in the wee hours of the night quite literally because of that very noise.

As I lay in bed, it’s impossible to not consider—as Corb Lund puts it—the plight of the calves. Of course weaning is a necessary event in the cadence of ranching, but there remains a part of me that feels for the suddenly disrupted dogies.

Everything they’ve known in life has changed. They have no idea what they’re future may hold. Even their most basic comforts—mother’s milk—is now a thing of the past. They don’t know that they’ll be well-cared for. That they’ll have good feed and be surrounded by their like kind for the rest of their days. The calves have no idea that I have plans for them.

I admit to anthropomorphizing the calves, but in my self-centeredness, I do see parallels in between their plight and mine. How often do I stand and bawl about my circumstances? How often do I show no faith in the future and long for comforts I once knew?

Fortunately, as a human, I am smarter than a calf. I know there is good in my future no matter how bad I think my current situation is. I also know, I suppose, there are struggles ahead no matter how comfortable I might be right now.

But what’s more valuable than that is I believe I’ve been given some insight into the caretaker who will see me through my growing pains. Eternally I am taken care of simply because I believe He is who He says He is.

In this moment I only wish I could bring these little calves the same level of comfort I’m given. I could sure use some sleep.