The Day Before

Amy and me - my very first bottle calf heifer!

Amy's waiting for her fifth calf ...

 It's Saturday morning. I am on 10 o'clock heifer check. I pull on long johns, extra layers, flannel shirt, silk scarf. An old felt hat, a gift from my sister many years ago. Grab the blanket from the stair rail in the porch: "It looks like rain," the Good Rancher had said as he went to bring in his horses.

I drive out, through the horse pasture, through the little gate into what he calls the Storm Field. It's a haven for calvy heifers and pet cows on days of inclement weather, such as this one.

It's mizzling and extremely windy. Even the crocuses are shuttered against the onslaught.

I circle the perimeter slowly, trying not to disturb these heavily pregnant mums.

Each is settled in her chosen spot.

They are all quiet.

At rest.

Waiting.

Tomorrow's the official day that new life will start to be seen, the GR says. It's the official heifer calving launch.

But it's the day before. All is quiet in this garden. All are at rest.

I back the side-by-side into an unobtrusive spot and let my mind drift back some 2,000 years ago to that "day before" where there was little to no activity on the streets of Jerusalem in honour of the Sabbath. 

Rest day.

Waiting.

Tomorrow - little do they know - will be different from any other day anyone has ever known. A massive stone will be rolled from a brand new tomb. The broken body, placed in it so tenderly by friends just days before, will not be found in the cave. 

Angels will attest.

The ladies will come. Peter and John will come. Friends walking to Emmaus in bewilderment and sorrow will speak to and break bread with Him. 

Death will have been defeated.

Nothing will ever be the same.

But that's tomorrow.

Today the sleet spits in my face.

The thunder rumbles.

We rest.

And we wait.