We've Got A Problem

Yes, we have a problem and her name is Meagan. She had this beautiful doeling last Monday and dropped it on the ground and walked off.

 The first few feedings I had to put her on the milking stand and then help the baby to nurse. Then I graduated to holding her collar. Soon, I only had to walk into the small shed and she'd stand still while the little one ate. Four times a day to travel by foot a mile and a half or travel several miles by car to go to the corrals was getting to be a bit much. Finally, all seemed to be well as the doeling's tummy was fairly filled out when we arrived so I backed off to three times a day.

Then Sunday, I put Mom and babe in a pen by themselves since Meagan would run to her offspring when she frantically maaaa...d. Whoo, hoo, I figured we had it made. Hardly, for after church we gathered up our three year old grand daughter, who had slept in Grandpa's arms during most of the meeting, and headed for the corrals.

Skinny minnie met us crying for food. Nope, Meagan hadn't fed her a thing. We were back to holding her collar once again. In the shed they went once more.

As panic surges through my veins I wonder what is a women to do when she has parents, children, and grandchildren that all need her?
Then I remember the words expressed at church, "Be still and know that I am God."  This little episode is in his plan also. Maybe it is once more to keep me from interferring and not allowing lessons to be learned.

So I'll enjoy the sweet moments like this. Our grand daughter discovered the kittens in the hay shed. And with Grandpa's help, she held one investigating it's sweet warmth.

And I'll smile when I see the clumsy kittens tumble all over each other.

But what makes me laugh is watching our grand daughter trooping through the mud in her Sunday dress. Oh I know I really shouldn't but it will wash and how can a child resist a wonderful puddle like this?

So we let her soak her dress and fill  (our buck goat), Touch's water with weeds and dirt as it stirred pleasant memories. Memories of how I loved to play in the mud, making pies and filling canning jars with seeds, grass, water, and dirt while pretending to be a wonderful cook.

And to be honest, every once in a while I steal a moment from childhood and in my size 8 Muck boots, wade back and forth splashing up muddy water because its just too much fun to resist.