Tucked In

Most of the time these days, I go to bed before my husband.  I can fall asleep with all the lights on, underneath a pile of clothes on my bed, with books and cell phone arrayed around me.  This doesn't bother me at all and never has.

Sometimes I sleep right through my husband coming to bed, and sometimes I wake up.  But the best times are the times that I waver between dreams and wakefulness . . . because those are the times I get to spy a little on his unwatched heart.

He will pick up my cell phone and books and put them on the bedside table.  He (sometimes) will move the clothes, depending on my particular arrangement. Then he will pull a blanket up to my chin and kiss me goodnight.

And I get to go back to sleep, all tucked in with love.

Valued Beyond Measure

On a weekend visit home from college, I turned onto our little dirt driveway from the main road.  It had been a long drive, a long day, a long year.

And then I saw it.

Along the cow pasture fence that led up to our house, yellow flagging tape was draped purposefully, in celebratory fashion.  Our driveway is a quarter of a mile long, and the flagging tape welcomed me all the way home.  At the end, I found my dad hastily tying off the last of it.  He had a goofy smile on his face, sweat popping up on his forehead underneath his hat from his hurried display of love.  

He had a million other things to do, but this bold act of extravagance wasn't lost on me.  Did I mention that yellow is my favorite color?

I am so thankful for a father who would never hesitate to break the alabaster vase for me. 

Yucky!

"Alexander" aka Collin

Part I:  The Nighttime Visitor

On Monday, Alexander burped five times at dinner.

On Tuesday, Alexander wiped his nose on his brother Sam.

On Wednesday, Alexander let his dog lick his hands and then rubbed them on his mommy's face.

On Thursday, Alexander put Sam's toothbrush in the potty . . . and then tried to put it in Sam's mouth.

On Friday, Alexander helped Sam "wash his hair" with yogurt.

And on Saturday, Alexander got in so much trouble that he was sent to bed without reading any books, without playing any games, and without snuggling with Mommy and Daddy.

No books?  Could we really send this kid to bed without 1 or 2 or 5 books?!

"Alexander," Daddy said as he closed the door, "We love you very much, but you have to learn to be nice!"

The room was very dark and very still, and Alexander was just beginning to think about crying when he heard three sharp, precise knocks on his bedroom door.

Alexander sat up in his bed on his knees, grabbed his best friend Archie bear, and said, very quietly,

"Daddy?  Is that you?"

The door swung open, and in walked . . .

"A lizard?" breathed a very surprised and confused Alexander.

"In a suit?!"  Alexander's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"With a book?!"  Now Alexander was barely remembering to breathe at all.  This was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

The creature straightened his back indignantly, quietly shut the door, and flipped on a lamp.  Alexander could now see that his visitor was much bigger than a normal lizard, coming to the top of Alexander's dresser.  He was red with peculiar purple polka dots, and his suit looked like the suit that Daddy wore to his Aunt Lydia's wedding.  He had three wisps of hair combed very carefully over his head, and on his back he had two very small wings.

The creature cleared his throat and said, in a very proper voice:

"My dear child, I, ahem, am not, ahem, a lizard."  He sniffed rather snootily before continuing.  "And this,"  he dusted off his black jacket with his bright red hands, "is most certainly NOT a suit.  It is called a tuxedo."

We could have used this dragon's help getting dressed on this day!

"You look like a lizard," said Alexander.

"Don't argue child.  It's impolite," said the creature.  "Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Sir Yuckivester Angelos Andreas the Third, and I," he took a ceremonial bow, "am a dragon.  At your service."

Alexander stared at the dragon, who was becoming less scary by the moment.  He considered what the dragon had said, and then he asked,

"That's a long name.  Can I just call you Yucky?"

The red-and-purple-polka-dotted dragon turned even redder than he already was, but he managed to keep his composure.  He gingerly opened his great big book and flipped through the pages with his well-manicured dragon claws.

"Tsk, Tsk,"  he scolded.  "Dragon Rule Number 812 states, 'It is never nice to make fun of someone's name.'"  He looked up accusingly at Alexander before continuing.

"However, Dragon Rule Number 812 (a) (iiii) notes that 'a nickname is often a term of affection that is impolite to refuse.'"  The dragon sighed.

"I suppose that if we are going to be friends that I will allow you to call me . . . Yucky."  Yucky's long nose wrinkled a bit as he said his new name.

Alexander eyed the big book and then asked,

"Yucky, did Mommy and Daddy send you to read a bed time story to me?"

This time, Yucky did not hold back his distaste.

"My dear, dear child.  I am not a bed time story reader.  I am an ettiquette coach, and I am here to teach you some manners."

"Etti-what?"  asked Alexander.

"Ettiquette," repeated Yucky.  "How to behave nicely to others.  And I apparently have my work cut out for me.  If you don't mind, I am going to go to sleep so we can get started first thing in the morning."

"OK, Yucky," said Alexander.

And with that, Yucky climbed under Alexander's bed and fell fast asleep.

Part II:  The Lesson

The next morning when Alexander woke up, he jumped out of bed and looked underneath it.  No Yucky! He scratched his head.  Had he dreamed it?  But when he arrived at the breakfast table, there was Yucky, dressed in his tuxedo, smelling suspiciously of Alexander's father's aftershave, flipping through his book underneath the dining room table.  Alexander looked around. His mom was drinking coffee, Sam was smashing food in his highchair, and his dad was cooking pancakes on the griddle.  No one else seemed to notice Yucky.  Alexander shrugged and sat in his seat.  Yucky promptly stuck his head out from under the table, pointed at the book, and whispered,

"Our first lesson comes from Dragon Rule Number 933:  You should always compliment the cook on the food.  Be sure to say thank you this morning."

Just then, Alexander's father brought over a hot stack of pancakes and put them on Alexander's plate.  He turned around to tear up a pancake for Sam, and Yucky nodded encouragingly at Alexander.

Alexander took a great big bite of a pancake.  Mmmmmmm, it was delicious!  He was just getting ready to tell his dad how tasty the pancake was when his father turned back around.

"Alexander, you know better than to eat before everyone is served!  I thought we were going to work on being nice today!"

The pancake seemed to grow bigger and bigger in Alexander's mouth while his father glared at him.  Finally, it seemed too big to swallow.  He spit it out.  "I didn't mean to Daddy . . . It was . . . it was . . .Yucky.."

Alexander's mother didn't let him finish his sentence.

"Young man!  Go sit on the couch.  Your father worked hard on those pancakes.  It is not nice to tell him they are yucky, and it is certainly not nice to spit it out!"

"But, I ---"  Alexander started to try to explain, but the words seemed to stick in his mouth just like the pancake had.  Instead, he trudged over to the couch, and Yucky sheepishly followed.  While the rest of the family ate pancakes, Yucky pulled out his book.

"Oh dear.  I forgot to mention Dragon Rule Number 721," he sighed.  "Never eat before everyone else has their food.  I should have mentioned that!"

"That would have been helpful," said Alexander with a frown.  His tummy rumbled as he watched his family eat.

After breakfast, everyone got dressed for church.  Alexander went into his mom and dad's room.  He liked to play in their closet while they got dressed.  Yucky followed him.

As Alexander tried on some of his dad's sneakers, Yucky pulled out his book again.

"Let's try again with Dragon Rule Number 322.  It says 'It is always nice to tell your mother she looks pretty when she is getting dressed.'"

"OK," Alexander shrugged.  "I can do that."

He walked out of the closet and saw that his mother had just put on a dress for church.  Alexander was about to tell her how pretty she was when Yucky leaned over to whisper one last bit of advice in his ear. Unfortunately, as he leaned over to whisper he tripped over one of the shoes that Alexander had just taken off.  He accidentally pushed Alexander, who fell right into his mother.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP.

Alexander grabbed her nice new dress, and it split clear down the middle.

"Alexander!"  his mother exclaimed.  "Look what you did to my dress!  You have to learn to be careful."

"I'm sorry mommy," he said, climbing up to apologize, "I didn't mean to rip it.  It was Yucky!"

Now Alexander's mother's eyes filled with tears and she said,

"Alexander!  That is not nice to say at all! Mommy's dress was not yucky!  I think you need to go sit on the couch and think about what you said!"

For the second time that morning, Alexander trudged to the couch.  Yucky followed, with his book in tow.

"Ahem," said Yucky, opening the book one more time.  "This morning is not going very well, but I think I know how you can make all of this better."

Alexander glared at Yucky, but he decided to give him one more chance.

"How?"  he asked.

"Dragon Rule Number 1,000 always helps in a pinch."   Yucky read from the book, "It is always nice to share your favorite toy with your brother."

Alexander looked to where Sam was playing in the play yard with some blocks.  He sighed, looked at Yucky, and said, "OK - I'll try."

He got up from the couch, went to his room, and got his favorite toy:  his foam pirate sword.  He brought it downstairs, put it in the play yard, and said, "Here Sam.  You can play with my pirate sword."

Sam looked at the sword, smiled at Alexander, pulled it to his mouth, and took a big bite out of the foam. He chewed it in his mouth for a moment, tried to swallow it, and started to cough.

Into the hand, into the mouth at this age . . . 

Alexander's mother and father rushed into the room.  They saw the sword, saw baby Sam, and glared at Alexander.

"What have you done?!"  Alexander's father exclaimed angrily.

He picked up Sam, thumped him on his back, and a big piece of foam sword flew out of Sam's mouth.  Sam gurgled and then grinned a big toothy smile.

Alexander's father looked at Alexander long and hard.

"That's it, young man.  You're in big trouble.  I'll have to think about your punishment, but it won't be fun."

Alexander hung his head.  He thought about telling his parents about Yucky, but it wouldn't do any good.  It would just make them mad like the other times Alexander tried to explain.

A tear trickled down his cheek and his tummy felt hot and rumbly.  He looked at Yucky, shook his head, and mouthed,  "Go home."

Yucky pulled out his book, flipped a few pages, and read, "Dragon Rule 2,012:  A guest never stays past his welcome."

He bowed to Alexander, closed the book, and sadly walked to the door.  Quick as a flash, he opened it and slipped out.  No one said good-bye.  In fact, no one but Alexander seemed to even notice that Yucky had been there at all.

Part III:  All's Well that Ends Well

Later that day, after church and his nap, Alexander's mom and dad came and sat on his bed.

"Alexander," said his mom, "We've been thinking about it.  What if we did something special this afternoon - just the three of us?  Would you like to go to the park for a picnic?  We have a babysitter for Sam."

Alexander couldn't believe his ears.  He smiled.  He loved the park.  And he wasn't in trouble!

His mom told him to put his shoes on while she changed to some clothes for the park.  When she came out to help him into his car seat, she had on a bright red shirt.  Red was Alexander's favorite color!  He remembered Yucky's advice, and he said,

"I like your shirt mommy.  It's very pretty."

Alexander's mom smiled and kissed Alexander's head as she buckled him in.  "Oh Alexander, I love you too. Thank you for the nice compliment!"

When they got the park, Alexander played on the slide with his dad, rode on the carousel with his mom, and raced across the bridge six times.  When he was done, he was tired and out of breath.

Check out this tough disciplinarian. :)

"Would you like a treat, Alexander?" his dad asked.

"Yes, please!" said Alexander.

His dad walked up to the concession stand and came back with lemonade and strawberries for everyone. They sat at a picnic table to share.  Alexander bit into a juicy strawberry.  The sweet juice ran down his chin.

Just then he saw a lizard scamper across the table.  He thought about Yucky and Dragon Rule Number 933.

"Thank you for the strawberries, daddy.  They are delicious!"

Daddy smiled.  "You're welcome, Alexander!  That was a very nice thing to say."  Daddy looked across at Mommy and she nodded, like they had discussed something earlier.

"How would you like to pick out a special surprise before we go home?" Daddy asked.

Alexander jumped up and down.  He loved special surprises!

The family finished their snacks and then headed to the gift store on the edge of the park.  The first thing Alexander spied was a pirate ship.  It looked like a real ship, and it came with tiny toy pirates.

He really does love pirates . . .

Alexander's mom and dad followed his gaze to the ship.

"Alexander, would you like the ship?" his mom asked.

Alexander really wanted the ship, and he almost said yes --- but then he remembered Sam eating his sword. If he got the ship, he couldn't share with his brother.  Sam would put the pirates in his mouth too.

"No . . . " he said slowly.  Then he turned, picked out a bright red ball, and handed it to his dad.  "I want this one!"

Alexander's mom and dad looked at each other across the aisle, shrugged, and Alexander's dad took the ball to the cash register.

All the way home, Alexander held the ball carefully in his lap.  When his dad unbuckled his car seat at the house, he raced to the door.  Inside, Sam was playing on the floor with the babysitter.

"Sam!"  Alexander cried.  "Look what we got!"  He gently rolled the ball to Sam.  Sam cooed and kissed the ball.  Alexander's mom and dad smiled.

Sometimes they really are this sweet!

That night, Mommy and Daddy both read Alexander stories, played a game with him, and snuggled with him in bed.  When it was time for lights out, Mommy kissed him on the forehead.

"You are a sweet boy, Alexander,"  she said, "And I love you very . . . "

All of a sudden, Mommy stopped talking, got a funny look on her face, and let out the biggest, loudest burp Alexander had ever heard.

Alexander and Daddy started laughing.  They laughed so hard they cried.  And then Mommy started to laugh too.

"Excuse me," she said, when she finally quit laughing.

"It's OK, Mommy," said Alexander.  "I love you, too."

Bedtime really is a sweet, sweet time.  It can also last for 45 minutes.

Mommy and Daddy shut the door and headed downstairs.  Daddy left to take the dog on a walk, while Mommy started to clean the kitchen.

She was just clearing the table, when she heard three very distinct knocks on the door.  Wiping her hands on a dishcloth, she looked through the the keyhole but didn't see anyone.  Very slowly, she opened the door.

In strode a little red dragon with the most peculiar purple polka-dots.  He was wearing a black tuxedo and had three wisps of hair combed very carefully across his head.  He was carrying a great big book.

"Are you a . . a . .?" Mommy started to ask, but Yucky cut her off.

"Yes, I am indeed a  DRAGON," he stated proudly. "In a very expensive TUXEDO, I might say," he added.

Mommy rubbed her eyes once, twice, three times, and then she remembered herself.  "Well nice to meet you, er, ah . . . "

"Sir Yuckivester Angelos Andreas the Third, at your service," he filled in.  "But my friends call me . . .Yucky."

"Well come on in, Yucky," Mommy smiled.  "Please, have a seat."

Yucky strode into the kitchen and smiled at Alexander's mother.  She eyed his book and asked, "Did you come to read me a story?"

Yucky sighed and shook his head.  Then he took a seat, flipped through his book, and read, "Dragon Rule Number 522: 'It is never polite to burp in the company of others, but when one does, one should always say 'Excuse Me.'"

"And laugh," Mommy added.  "Laughing makes everything better."

Then she smiled, chuckled to herself, poured Yucky some tea, and said "Yucky, you need to meet my son Alexander . . . "

Would this mom need Yucky?  Yep.  Absolutely.  Especially after these boys!

THE END

Boogie Bear

A story for all the little Boogie Bears out there.  Especially mine. :) 

Once upon a time there lived a little bear named Boogie.  Boogie wasn't his real name, of course, but all of his friends called him that because he LOVED to pick his nose.

At night when Boogie was at home, his mama would say, "Eugene, get your paw out of your nose.  If you don't watch out, it will get stuck there.  Then you will be in a fine fix."

Boogie just laughed and laughed, but his dad said sternly, "Eugene, you better listen to your mother.  She is always right."

Boogie would race around the room, hide behind a chair, and stick his paw into his nose --- just to make sure he could get it out again.  Easey-peasy . . . his little paw always slid right out.

One day, Boogie Bear was playing in the woods by himself.  All of a sudden, he smelled the most wonderful smell.  It was coming from up in a tree.  Boogie climbed up, and what did he find?  A tree full of the most beautiful golden honey.

Well, the one thing Boogie liked more than picking his nose was honey. Boogie just loved honey.  He quickly stuck his paw into the tree and began to shovel the ooey gooey yummy ummy honey into his mouth.

Boogie ate and he ate and he ate some more.  He ate until all the honey was gone, and then he climbed back down the tree, sat at the bottom, and patted his great, big, full, happy belly.

Just then, he noticed that his nose began to itch.  Without thinking twice, he slid his little paw up to scratch. But when he tried to pull it back out again, it was stuck!  All that ooey gooey yummy ummy honey was all over his sticky paws, and - try as he might - he could not get his claw out of his nose.

Poor Boogie!  He had to walk all the way back through the forest with his finger stuck in his nose . . . past all the bunnies and the deer, the birds and the other little bears.  Everyone laughed and laughed at Boogie Bear limping along with his paw in his nose.

When he got home, his mother took one look at him and shook her head.  Without saying a word, she helped him take a bath and pry his claw out of his nose.  That night, she put a box of tissue next to his bed when she kissed him good night.  

"I love you, Eugene," she whispered.

"Love you too, mommy," he mumbled back.

And do you know what happened?  Well, I'll let you guess . . . but before long everyone was back to calling Boogie "Eugene," and he never got his paw stuck in his nose again.

THE END

Lost Sleep

Can I tell you one of the things that keeps me up at night?

It's embarrassing, it's often prompted by Facebook, it's prominent when I'm overtired, and it's real:

I'm worried that I'm not going to matter.  

That I will live my life and dream my dreams and have grand visions, and at the end of the day . . . I'm only going to have done very normal things.

And there is this imaginary crowd in my head that is going to say,

"She had so much potential, but . . ."

"If only she'd made that decision differently, then . . . "

"I always knew she'd never do it . . ."

When I am less tired, less comparison-oriented, less focused on me, I realize that this "crowd" is bent on making me the unhappiest person on the planet.  Because all those voices that tell me that I'm not going to matter . . . what do they know?

What if my limits are like guardrails from God . . . directing me into the path of grace, pointing me toward my purpose?

This past year has been one of the most challenging of my life.  I had two babies under two at the start of it.  My work had seen better days.  My thank yous were six months behind, at least.  I'm not going to list the rest of the issues.  Suffice to say, it hasn't been pretty.

This past year has also been one of the most beautiful of my life.  People have been phenomenally good to me.  Unsolicited grace has decorated my days.  Effort, my lifelong idol, has been replaced by something far superior.

And I have these two amazing little boys and their devoted father reminding me day in and day out of gifts, blessings, love.

And it is all so normal.  So blessedly normal.

What if significance isn't so much what we do but how we perceive? Experience?  Share?  Accompany?  Acknowledge?

Witness?

What I have witnessed this year has been extraordinary.

Significant.

Divine.

Normal.

Thank you, all of you, who have blessed me with eyes to see. 

Sweet Joy and Loving Kindness

A birthday message to my boys:  Collin, age 3; Connor, age 1

My dear, sweet, silly, and above all precious boys,

Happy Birthday to you both!  I planned to set aside a day every year to write to you individually before your birthday, but it hasn’t worked out exactly as I planned.  I won’t make excuses.  I also won’t dwell on the undone, because I have learned that God has a way of orchestrating EVERYTHING, even the flops and delays and not-good-enoughs, for his glory.

It just so happens that today is two days before Easter (yes Collin – it is your birthday cake that is in the oven today), and my message for you both this year is an Easter message.

My children, I will let you in on a secret.  Life is like a series of Easters.   You will have seasons of triumph, seasons of betrayal, seasons where the very hands of God wash your feet, seasons of cross-bearing, and seasons where God and his promises seem fraudulent, false, dead, crucified.  There will be moments when it seems that the darkness has won.

My darling boys, we are all human, and your emotions will tempt you to believe that the season you are in is the only season.  But it is not.  Because always, always there is the resurrection.

When you are tempted not to believe this, look around.  Nature, the seasons, our life spans, the birthing process . . . everything is designed to reflect this truth.  Resurrection is printed on your soul’s DNA.  

So when you make decisions, my children, make them with this truth in mind:  the resurrection is real.  Joy will come in the morning.  New mercies await around each corner.  Love can be beaten and nailed to the cross, but in the end, it will triumph.  

What does this mean? YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ACHIEVING YOUR OWN HAPPINESS.  Don’t be fooled – you will never sustain any lasting contentment based on your efforts.  You are simply responsible for beholding the resurrection with eyes and hearts wide open, witnesses to grace, recipients of love.   If you do this, joy will find you.  Loving kindness will find you.  Purpose and peace will find you.   

And your heart will be glad.

What bigger prayer could I have for your lives?  What bigger hope?  

When the darkness descends, keep your eyes open.  

Hope is on the way.

I love you, my children, always and forever.

Mama

A Cow Named Hope

Dedicated to the wonderful and brave John Oliver ("Ollie") Tetloff, and of course his mother, Meredith.  (ollieupdates.org) 

Once upon a time there was a cow named Hope.

Hope lived in a great big pasture on Bay Branch Farm with her mama and daddy and lots of cousins and sisters.  The cows on Bay Branch Farm were very happy.  Every day, they woke up, ate grass, drank water, swatted flies with their tails, and mooed: "It's gooooood to be a cow." 

Life was good on Bay Branch Farm, but Hope wasn't happy.  Even though she liked eating grass, drinking water, and swatting flies with her tail, she had this nagging feeling that she was made for something more. 

She went to her mama and shared her problem:  "Mama," she asked tentatively, "Have you ever wanted to do more than eat grass, drink water, and swat flies with your tail?"

Mama looked at Hope, took a big bite of grass, chewed it around for a few minutes, and then chided:  "Hope, it's goooood to be a cow.  Don't be ungrateful.  Now run along and play with your sisters."

Hope bowed her head and walked away, ashamed.  For the next few days she tried to concentrate on living happily on the farm, but - try as she might - she continued to feel like she was missing out on something.

The next day, Farmer Hub noticed that Hope was moping by the water trough.  Farmer Hub loved his cows and always knew when something was the matter.  He walked up to Hope, patted her head, and said, "What's wrong, little cow?"

Hope mooed the longest and saddest mooooooooo Farmer Hub had ever heard.  Because Farmer Hub had been farming for a long time and knew everything there was to know about cows, he understood immediately what the problem was.

"Well Hope," he said.  "I have an idea.  I have a special friend named Ollie. Right now, Ollie is sick and is not feeling his best.  He loves cows but he can't come to visit right now because he is busy getting well.  Would you like to cheer Ollie up?"

Hope turned in a circle three times and kicked her feet up in the air with excitement.  Of course she would like to help!

The next day, the farmer brought a funny looking bag.  He opened it up and took out a camera. 

"Can I take your picture, Hope?"  the Farmer asked.  "For Ollie?"

Hope was a little afraid, but she held very still.  She knew she had to be very good so she could help Farmer Hub's friend, Ollie.


"Click, click,"  whirred the camera. 

"Moo, Moo," said Hope.

The other cows watched warily, chewing their grass, swatting their tails.  What, they wondered, was Hope doing?

A few days later, Farmer Hub came back to the cow pasture.  Hope trotted up, happy to see her friend. 

"Hope," said Farmer Hub.  "Ollie really liked the pictures of you, but he would like to see more cows.  Do you think you could talk to your friends to see if they would like to have their pictures taken?"

Hope moooed a worried moo.  She knew that the cows were happy eating their grass, drinking their water, and swatting their tails.  But - she could tell that Farmer Hub and Ollie really needed her help, so she approached her cousin Thatcher. 

Thatcher looked up at Hope with a mouth full of grass.  His big brown eyes seemed to say, "I'm happy just doing this.  Please let me be."  Hope didn't want to bother Thatcher and almost walked away, but then she remembered Farmer Hub's friend Ollie.  Courageously, she asked:

"Thatcher, will you help me help Farmer Hub and his friend Ollie?"  Thatcher blinked once, then he blinked twice.  Hope was sure he was going to say no and she almost walked away when she heard him say,

"O.K. Hope, I will help you help Farmer Hub." 

"Hooray!"  Hope kicked up her heels and nuzzled Thatcher's neck joyously.  "Follow me!"

Slowly Thatcher followed Hope over to Farmer Hub.

"Click, click," went the camera.

"Mooooooo," said Hope and Thatcher together.

The other cows watched from the corner, eating their grass, swishing their tails.  But this time, a few of the little calves ventured closer.  What was that funny noise?  And why did Hope and Thatcher look so excited?

Over the next few days and months, Farmer Hub came back with the camera.  And every time he came, Hope recruited a few more cows.  Before long, every cow in the herd had had their picture taken . . . every cow, except Hope's mama.  Now when Farmer Hub came with the camera, Hope's mama stood by herself while all the other cows posed for pictures.

One day, Farmer Hub came to the cow pasture looking very sad indeed.  He did not have his camera with him.  Hope wanted to know what was the matter.  She nudged Farmer Hub's shoulder and mooed.

Farmer Hub sighed a heavy sigh, took his broad-brimmed hat and turned it around in his hands, and said,

"Our friend Ollie is very sick, Hope.  He is very brave and very strong, but he hurts a lot and is very tired. I wish there was something else we could do to help him."

Hope thought.  She thought and she thought and she thought.  She thought about all the things that made her feel better:  green grass, summer sunshine, fluffy clouds, playing with her sisters and brothers.  But Hope could not send those things to Ollie.

Photo by Alex Palmour

Just as she was about to hang her head in defeat, she had an idea!  Hope lifted her head up to Farmer Hub's ear and whispered as well as a cow can.  The farmer's face lit up and he began to smile.

"That's a great thought, Hope!"  he said.  "Let's do it!"

The next day, Farmer Hub came with a crew of farm hands and a great big truck.  Even though the other cows now liked having their picture taken, they were a little scared of the big truck.  They backed up to the fence in a tight circle.

Farmer Hub took his hat off again and ran his fingers through his hair.  What if the plan didn't work?  What if Hope was afraid?

Just then, Hope stepped out from the circle of cows.  She took a few steps toward Farmer Hub.  Farmer Hub put his hat back on, straightened his back, and smiled a great, big smile. 

"Okay, guys, let's load her up!" he shouted.

The truck backed up to the gate and someone swung the doors open.  For the first time, Hope paused.  She was a little afraid of that great big trailer with the loud door.

And then, from deep within the herd, Hope's mama walked forward.  She walked up to Hope and looked at her long and hard with her big, dark eyes.  She nuzzled Hope's neck for a moment, and then she nudged her forward with her nose towards the trailer.

Hope stepped on, and Farmer Hub swung the door closed.

The truck sputtered on and then rattled off down the winding dirt road.

Hope rode for what seemed like a very long time.  Finally, the truck clanked to a stop and began to back up. It made a funny beep, beep, beep noise and then jumped slightly as it turned off.

Hope began to shake a little, missing her friends and her farm very much.  Just as she was beginning to rethink this idea, Farmer Hub swung the doors wide open.  Hope stumbled out into the bright light, blinking after being in the dark trailer.

And then .  .  . she saw them.  Waiting for her just beyond the truck ramp was the most wonderful little boy she had ever seen.  He was wearing a Mincraft t-shirt, and he sat next to his mother.  She had beautiful auburn hair and the kind of way about her that made Hope feel better at once.

"Ollie," the boy's mother said, "I think you should go up and meet your new friend."

The boy walked up to Hope, and she stopped shaking.  He lifted out his hand and petted her, and she felt her trembling heart slow down.  She mooed.

Ollie laughed, and his mama laughed, and Hope nuzzled his cheek. She thought for a moment about all the things she had left:  the fluffy coulds in the summer sky, the warm sunshine, the green grass . . . and then Ollie smiled at her again.  His smile was like all of those good things mixed together, but better.  She felt the happiest she had ever felt.

"It's gooooood to be a cow!," she mooed.  Then she posed for a picture with her new best friend.

THE END