COWS, PITCHFORKS, AND
THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT I get irritated during the holidays by many of the nay-sayers who try to make us feel guilty about the blessings we have for living in a nation that bestows greater freedom and prosperity than any other nation in the history of mankind. In the greater scheme of things, our nation gives us the right to not only worship God on special holidays, but every day. These are wonderful blessings that should make us happy and allow us to celebrate without any guilt. The fact that the nay-sayers have the right to complain should be reason enough for them to put smiles on their faces, thank God for the wonderful nation in which they live, and enjoy life. They remind me of my grandmother’s spiteful old cow. One Christmas, when my father was a small boy growing up on a ranch in western Colorado, the family was getting ready to go to his aunt’s house for Christmas. Grandfather asked him to go throw the cows some more hay. Being excited about Christmas, my father ran as fast as he could and climbed to the top of the big haystack where he could pitch the hay down into the cow's pen. He was pitching the hay as fast as he could when the fork slipped out of his hand and went flying right toward an old cow that was below him, eating hay. There was nothing he could do but watch as the fork shot toward that old cow’s nose. When the four-pronged spear hit the bulls-eye (or in this case, the "cows-eye"), that old cow started spinning like a top. Father could not get near the cow, so he ran to the house, crying. Grandmother met him at the door, dressed in her best clothes -- a fur coat, a beautiful hat, and high-heeled shoes. She asked, "What’s wrong?" Between sobs, Father blurted out what happened. My father says, "My mother was the only woman I ever saw who could run on three-inch-high heels." Not waiting for Grandfather, she lit out after that old cow like a dog after a rabbit, with father following. When she got to the corral, the old cow stood with her head down and the pitchfork still sticking out of her nose. My little five-foot, two-inch grandmother ran up to the cow, stuck her heels in the ground, grabbed the fork with both hands, and gave a jerk, pulling it free from the cow’s nose. That old cow thanked Grandmother by lowering her head and knocking her right down in the snow! Father waved his hands and chased the cow away. Grandmother got up and dusted the snow off her coat. They went back to the house and headed for their Christmas festivities. After that, every time that old cow saw Grandmother, she showed her appreciation by butting, kicking or knocking Grandmother down. Somehow, that old cow got it in her mind that Grandmother was the one who had stabbed her with the pitchfork. For this Christmas, don’t hold grudges like that old cow. Forgive and forget. Be happy, celebrate and thank God for the many things in life that are worth celebrating. After all, Christmas is really a celebration for the ultimate sacrifice and spirit of forgiveness. Merry Christmas! |
