One week ago the emergency room doctor declared what we already knew.
Was that a hundred and one years ago?
Willow is still down. We (I mean my dad) have been doctoring her for pregnancy toxemia. I doubt she will live.
Daddy let the over two week old lambs and kids out to pasture with their mothers. They are all very happy.
I milked Coco this morning. Patrick milked Priscilla. He also helped Papa replace the broken slats in the hay racks. Priscilla is going into heat. I think I will let her get rebred to insure that we have milk next winter. And more beef, if it is a bull calf.
I spent over six hours working on business plan and details. Overwhelming. Walking the farm with a friend trying to make a list of urgent needs. I wept when I went in Philip's office out at the milking parlor and saw the prayer he would pray for us every morning when he would go out to exercise and read the Bible. Nora and Thomas spent the night and today playing at the Thomas's. Rose and Maggie played Monopoly, Scrabble, the piano and they fought. And played some more. Terri washed loads and loads of laundry and cleaned the basement. Rachel brought over a cake that she and Thomas made to celebrate Terri's birthday. Yesterday I couldn't sing to her, but tonight I was able. We ate leftovers of the wonderful food people gave us. I can taste food again. At least better that two days ago.
I thanked God for placing us in such a community surrounded by people who love us. The cards and letters and gifts are amazing. Overwhelming. The encouragement is like milk to a baby. "I know this is hard, but you can do this," reassures the friends who help me with difficult work that has to be done before market season starts. Which reminds me of a passage from Fellowship of the Rings I read the other night. Will have to share with you later, but am sleepy and must go to rest. Tomorrow is another day.
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3 comments:
As heartbreaking as it is to read your thoughts each day, I am inspired by your strength. Knowing you draw your strength from the Lord and from the love of family and friends tells all.
To feel hope in the face of sorrow is a gift from God.
Ginger - I love you. Thinking of you constantly.
Ingrid
Ginger, I just caught up on all your posts. They are sad and incredibly beautiful at the same time. How can such sadness be so poetic?
Oh, how I wish I was able to meet Philip in real life. He sounds so interesting and cool and perfect! How lucky you were to have him, even though it was not long enough! It is never long enough-- loving. But it's not done, only different. I'm not a very relgious person. You probably know that. But I do know that love always lives on. It doesn't just go away. Doesn't disappear like mist. Like the fog rolling down off the mountain. In fact, it grows. I don't even know Philip but he's in my heart just as sure as the blood is in my heart. This is how love grows. You know that. I know you know that. I just needed to say it. Because I am sad too.
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