What He Said

 My route to and from my son’s school wanders through what's left of the pasture land in our area. It's very scenic and often breathtakingly beautiful in the mornings. Mist rises from a stream that wanders through the open fields and the sun glistens off the frost in the trees and grass, and the cows are about their morning routines. This morning as I was coming home I noticed one large black cow (forgive me if it should be called something different, but I am a city-girl after all) standing alone with mist rising all around it at the edge of the stream.  It had its neck extended as far as it would go, muzzle to the sky, expelling what can only be called a bellow. Its breath hung around its nose in a great cloud from the effort to push the sound from its very soul - if you'll pardon the erroneous application.  I laughed in agreement and said out loud to the Lord, "Yeah! What he said!"

I must have an affinity for cows because I often see myself there. I know we're supposed to be sheep, but cows speak to me. I could feel the effort, the need, and the inability to express its feelings in a more productive way in that cow's bellow. It was a gut response, a letting-off, a vent, like an old-time pressure cooker about to blow. It was pent-up, unexpressed need.

The book of Romans tells us that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us in groans that words can not express. That's always been a balm to my soul - knowing that SOMEONE has the words when I don't. That's what the cow reminded me of today. (Not to liken our dear Holy Spirit to a large black bovine but you hopefully get the point.) I'm telling you that sometimes if I could put my nose in the air and make that kind of noise, I would, and I would feel better for it, trusting that God understood everything that was behind it. So today, I just nodded in agreement and said, essentially, AMEN.