We were on our way to Riversdale last Friday for our shopping run, milk, bread, maybe a stop at the bakery if we were good. Somewhere along the road we pulled over for a wee break for the doggies, the kind of stop you don’t remember making until something unforgettable happens right in the middle of it.
Lance took Molly out on her leash near a fence line where a dairy herd was grazing in the early light. That should have been the whole story. A quick stretch, a sniff, back in the car.
But then one cow lifted her head. Then another.
Then, as if summoned by something we couldn’t hear, the entire herd began walking toward the fence, slow and sure of themselves, until every single one of them stood lined up along the wire. A whole congregation, gathered for morning service, and Molly held court, like she’d been expecting them all along.
And that’s when we noticed each cow wore a bright yellow ear tag with her name printed on it. Blossom stood beside Mabel, who stood beside Gertrude, with Edith, Nettie, and Meredith filling out the line, on and on it went, so many cows, each one carrying her own sweet little name like a badge of honor. Reading them off one by one was such fun, the cutest roll call you could ever imagine.
Lance turned to me and with a cheeky grin said, “Well would you look at this, it’s a holy cow moment.”
And really, what else could you call it?
A herd that size, choosing to leave their breakfast and walk over just to meet a tiny sausage dog on the other side of the fence like she owned the whole paddock. If that isn’t sacred, I don’t know what is.
Molly, for her part, took this as nothing short of her due. Chest out, tail going, fully convinced the entire herd had assembled purely to pay their respects to her. She held court like a tiny queen, ears bouncing, unperturbed that every single one of her subjects outweighed her by roughly a thousand pounds.
I sat in the car watching this whole holy gathering unfold, sun soft on the mountains, and thought about how faith sometimes looks exactly like this. Sometimes it’s not dramatic like a burning bush moment. Sometimes its just a herd of gentle giants deciding, of their own accord, to walk toward something small and show up with reverence.
We had zero plans for church that morning. We were only stopping for a wee break on the way to buy groceries. But there we were anyway, blessed by an entire congregation of cows , Blossom, Mabel, Gertrude, Edith, Nettie, Meredith and the rest of them and Molly, our smallest and mightiest, receiving her worshippers one curious cow nose at a time.
This was a ”Holy Cow” moment indeed.
SharynAnn
We were on our way to Riversdale last Friday for our shopping run, milk, bread, maybe a stop at the bakery if we were good. Somewhere along the road we pulled over for a wee break for the doggies, the kind of stop you don’t remember making until something unforgettable happens right in the middle of it.
Lance took Molly out on her leash near a fence line where a dairy herd was grazing in the early light. That should have been the whole story. A quick stretch, a sniff, back in the car.
But then one cow lifted her head. Then another.
Then, as if summoned by something we couldn’t hear, the entire herd began walking toward the fence, slow and sure of themselves, until every single one of them stood lined up along the wire. A whole congregation, gathered for morning service, and Molly held court, like she’d been expecting them all along.
And that’s when we noticed each cow wore a bright yellow ear tag with her name printed on it. Blossom stood beside Mabel, who stood beside Gertrude, with Edith, Nettie, and Meredith filling out the line, on and on it went, so many cows, each one carrying her own sweet little name like a badge of honor. Reading them off one by one was such fun, the cutest roll call you could ever imagine.
Lance turned to me and with a cheeky grin said, “Well would you look at this, it’s a holy cow moment.”
And really, what else could you call it?
A herd that size, choosing to leave their breakfast and walk over just to meet a tiny sausage dog on the other side of the fence like she owned the whole paddock. If that isn’t sacred, I don’t know what is.
Molly, for her part, took this as nothing short of her due. Chest out, tail going, fully convinced the entire herd had assembled purely to pay their respects to her. She held court like a tiny queen, ears bouncing, unperturbed that every single one of her subjects outweighed her by roughly a thousand pounds.
I sat in the car watching this whole holy gathering unfold, sun soft on the mountains, and thought about how faith sometimes looks exactly like this. Sometimes it’s not dramatic like a burning bush moment. Sometimes its just a herd of gentle giants deciding, of their own accord, to walk toward something small and show up with reverence.
We had zero plans for church that morning. We were only stopping for a wee break on the way to buy groceries. But there we were anyway, blessed by an entire congregation of cows , Blossom, Mabel, Gertrude, Edith, Nettie, Meredith and the rest of them and Molly, our smallest and mightiest, receiving her worshippers one curious cow nose at a time.
This was a ”Holy Cow” moment indeed.
SharynAnn
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