It’s not everyday that something out of the ordinary happens, but when it does I try to take notice and give it my full attention. I find myself asking, “Is there some meaning behind this or maybe a lesson to learn? A few days ago I tweeted about going for a walk with my daughter, down the long gravel road leading to our house. It was a perfect day for a walk with sunshine, blue skies, green popping up all over and lots of singing. “What could be better?” I threw out to the twitterverse, not expecting an answer.
Our walk began with Sofia asking for her animal of choice. “Cow?” she asked with her big blue eyes pleading. “No, no cows, Sofia,” I replied. “Why don’t we sing a song? How about Old McDonald?” I ask, happy with my motherly ingenuity at fitting her current favorite animal into our walk.
“And on his farm he had a ….?” Pause. Silence, followed by more silence. “What, Sofia?” I ask. “What did Old McDonald have?” She came back with a resounding, “COW!” Every time. It occurred to me, she might have thought we were going to visit the nearby farm center. Every since our recent visit, she’s been quite taken with cows. All the baby lambs, fuzzy ducklings, goats and piglets at the farm center were met with a nonplussed nod of acknowledgement, followed immediately by a request for that special animal. “Cow. Cow, mama,” she’d say directing me to push her stroller onward in her quest.
Thankfully the farm had in residence at least one cow, a really big mama cow with its’ tiny baby calf snuggling up next to it. They didn’t seem to mind being gawked at by an inquisitive little girl and her mom. So it really came as no surprise that while singing Old McDonald on our walk, I’d be subjected to multiple rounds of “Moo. Moo.”
Singing and strolling along, I began reflecting on what a dichotomy life can be at times. Most of my friends’ children are school age now and way beyond toddler songs and potty training. Many of these women have returned to the work force, after having taken leave to be with their young kids. Yet here I was still singing Old McDonald.
The truth is I’m happy to be doing this. I love being with my daughter. I wouldn’t want to miss out on all the little things like singing about cows for the millionth time, while taking a slow walk on a beautiful day. These are the things I get to do with Sofia. And like any parent, I’d hate to miss the wonder in her eyes when she sees things for the first time.
Still walking, we reach the end of the road and turn around to head home. I begin another chorus, while contemplating the complexities of my life. “Moo…Moo,” Sofia sings, and I catch something out of the corner of my eye. I turn to look to the side of the road, to see what’s caught my attention.
Up the hill overlooking the road, scattered between the trees, staring us down was a multitude of bovine. Not just one cow; a herd of cow. White cows, brown cows, black cows and multi-colored cows stood statue still while watching us intently. Shifting their frozen gaze to the new, soft grass carpeting the ground beneath them, they began to graze. Bovine heaven on a long dirt road.
“Sofia! Oh my gosh! Sofia, look!” I say. “Cows…look! Look at the cows!” She looks and grins wide, not nearly as surprised as her mom. “Where in the world did they come from?” I ask out loud to no one in particular, knowing no one else is around. I pull out my phone and begin taking pictures of these cows that seem to have materialized out of nowhere. Seven years I’ve walked this road, not once ever spotting a cow, much less a multitude of cows.
We continue our walk home, me laughing at the unbelievable. What do I make of this? I ask myself in true form. I’m stumped. All I can come up with is that God must have a really good sense of humor. He had to be laughing if he was watching us that day.
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