Season of rebirth

He lifted his head to meet her continual licks.  She knew what to do, and had probably done this natural and maternal instinct many times before.  But I caught a glimpse of this precious beginning as I was going about 65, well maybe plus one or two, miles per hour north headed to Billings.  She was a lone cow in a pasture close to the highway, and there he was too. 

Birth on a spring day in a pasture-simply sweet yet complex, soft and quiet yet rough while

trucks, trains, and cars sped alongside.  The symbolic meaning of Good Friday came to me as I witnessed this moment. 

How many times have we speed by the chance at seeing 'wholey' or 'holy' the true vision of birth or the act of rebirth daily.  Here in a pasture every spring a calf is born-the miracle, the celebration, the life, the rebirth every year, and we-that'd be us two-legged sorts-are given daily, hourly, minutely, secondly the opportunity of rebirth in Jesus.   He has Risen for us this Easter weekend.

This picture was the closest I could find on google it's from

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