Kindness

Getting to be a girl and staying in the house alone today I had a bunch of time to think.

“What greater wisdom is there than kindness?”

I’m afraid I don’t know who said that originally but it is branded on my heart, my old warrior’s heart.

“I used to think that I had to be tough and strong to fight the good fight, when really, I need to pliable and soft, putty in the Lord’s hands, so to speak. To follow His example, is really about kindness isn’t it? 

I use to struggle with the idea of meekness (if “the meek shall inherit the earth”), I knew I should be meek. I thought it meant more like being week but it isn’t the same at all. Meekness is about caring about someone else more than we do ourselves, so much so, that we are willing to absorb the offenses we receive and even though we are able to, to not fire them back. And yet, to stand firm for the right and not be swayed. It’s about what I think of as kindness, a special kind of strength.

I feel like I have been seriously wounded in this battle against all that is bad. I was, in a way, sent home from the front lines to recuperate and like a warrior who has lost a limb or an eye I may never be able to battle as vigorously as I once did, but I can still do something, even if it’s only to bandage the wounds of others with compassion for their suffering.”

I do know who said that.

Pshaw’s Day

Cool, rainy morning and it’s move salt and oiler time so I get to be home for a while, this morning at least. Which is good since we had to work yesterday, one of those bulls-in-the-mire days. (Well really just some tore down fence and bulls in the wrong field and some renegade neighbor’s cows.) Pshaw got to come. I’ll let her explain.

“Today was my day.”

“Pretty fresh bull poo, I better taste it to make sure.”

“Great! Camoflage (how do you spell that?).”

“Boy! that felt good.”

“See Dad, how pretty I look.”

“See Mom, how pretty I look.”

“I even got to chase 5 big mean scary bulls who ran away from Me really fast and back into the bull pasture.  But, alas : ( no picture of that since the photographer was carefully picking her way around a bog and trying to catch up. She’s like that you know.”