Betty and Sassy

It was beautiful day yesterday... cold, clear, bright sunshine... a perfect winter day. As we walked to Betty’s grave, a kilted bagpiper played Amazing Grace reminding us that all of life, even grief, is an occasion for thanksgiving. We gathered round and heard the old words... Let not your heart be troubled... The Lord is my shepherd... Neither death nor life can separate us from the love of God. And as we left, our arms wrapped around each other offering loving comfort, the sun continued to shine.
I came home, changed into my overalls and went to do the afternoon feeding. In the winter, the cows must be fed and checked twice daily, especially when the weather is cold. I went to the leaning barn (so called because it does lean) and loaded hay into the back of the mule. As I drove through the glen, snow was still lightly layered on the ground because the sun does not shine there for very long during the day. The cows had heard me coming and were waiting at the hay ring and the feed trough. The count came up one short... Sassy was missing.
Sassy came to us a young heifer, already bred, from daddy’s farm. Because she was so young to have her first calf, she had difficulty giving birth and we had to pull her first calf. It lived and grew to be a beautiful yearling. Her next two calves died. New mothers sometimes start removing the membrane from the rear instead of the head and that caused one baby’s death. After two calves lost, we had been watching Sassy closely as she waited to calve. The loss of those two calves in a small operation like ours represents a great deal of money down the drain. Where was Sassy?
My eyes flew around the glen... I heard her before I saw her. Sassy is always greedy and she wanted her food but she wouldn’t leave the small red bundle lying on the ground. My heart stopped. I yelled at the dogs to stay put and walked to Sassy with the feed bucket. As I got close, a little red head popped up and looked at me. I began to cry. The baby was fine. As her mama cleaned out the feed bucket, I went to the baby and ran my hands all over her body in a joyful blessing. New calves have not learned to fear yet and if the mother knows you and will let you, you can pet the baby calf.
After the new baby has its sea legs, all the other cows will come and sniff it, lick it, say hello and welcome it to the family. If you are there at the right time and can join in this ritual, the baby will consider you a part of its family, too. When a cow from the herd dies on the farm, the same ritual is performed. They file by, sniff and lick, and say good bye. I have never seen the good bye ritual but my daddy told me he had. The rituals of welcome and the rituals of good bye...
The rituals of good bye... the open casket at the visitation so we can really know the body is not the soul... the flowers that remind us of new life that comes after death... the comforting words from our Holy Book... the arms that reach out to us and the shared tears of grief... the cars that pull over to the side and stop in respect as the hearse and funeral procession drive by...the graveside service that reminds us from dust we come and to dust our bodies shall return... the comfort of ritual whatever its form.
The rituals of hello... touching the newborn, rejoicing in the presence of new life, celebration at the continuation of the lives that have gone on before, shared tears of joy, arms that hold us as we laugh and cry together, a dedication or christening (whether by sprinkled water or licking) that sets the new life apart as special and a part of our family... bring us joy in the morning after the season of grief.
I think we will name the new baby Betty...