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 http://theheritagefarm.me/.
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