When Baby Livestock Sleep In Your Bathtub – What Paul Harvey Said About Such Things

Yes, it is almost midnight.  The temperature is dropping and it is supposed to snow.  I thought it was almost Spring.

Well, as farm life would have it, I have two little new borns – a lamb born today whose mama did not have her udder bag up much and a baby kid goat doeling who was injured somehow by way of jailbreaking out of her mama’s pen and hopping, skipping and jumping into the horse’s stall.

I think the little doeling realized her 5 pounds of fluff was not a match for a thousand pound animal.  Needless to say she got injured somehow by the horse.  I cant tell if the horse nipped her or stepped on her, or if she got stuck trying to get into his stall, or what.

All I know is that it is now nearly midnight and I have two babies sleeping in my bathtub.  I have colostrum milk all over me from bottle feeding the lamb.  And, I cant shower as I will wake the babies and I cant really crawl in bed, since I smell like milk.  My husband has to draw the line somewhere I imagine.  And he already told me his eyes were burning from allergies when I asked him to hold them both while I heated up the milk.

These are exactly the kind of crazy Spring days farmers always talk about – and Paul Harvey most elequently captured with When God Made A Farmer.  I encourage you to read the below from Paul Harvey.  His words come to mind right about now, when I am as tired as I could imagine and it is not romantic in the least, yet Mr. Harvey makes it so.

Yet, in hindsight, these will be the moments I will remember for the rest of my life.  Today I add another – two babies in my bathtub.  Now that is a first.

For your pleasure, below is Paul Harvey’s most amazing words…….enjoy and good night!

~ L. Davis

And on the 8th day, God looked down on his planned paradise and said, “I need a caretaker.” So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, milk cows, work all day in the fields, milk cows again, eat supper and then go to town and stay past midnight at a meeting of the school board.” So God made a farmer.

“I need somebody with arms strong enough to rustle a calf and yet gentle enough to deliver his own grandchild. Somebody to call hogs, tame cantankerous machinery, come home hungry, have to wait lunch until his wife’s done feeding visiting ladies and tell the ladies to be sure and come back real soon — and mean it.” So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody willing to sit up all night with a newborn colt. And watch it die. Then dry his eyes and say, ‘Maybe next year.’ I need somebody who can shape an ax handle from a persimmon sprout, shoe a horse with a hunk of car tire, who can make harness out of haywire, feed sacks and shoe scraps. And who, planting time and harvest season, will finish his forty-hour week by Tuesday noon, then, pain’n from ‘tractor back,’ put in another seventy-two hours.” So God made a farmer.

God had to have somebody willing to ride the ruts at double speed to get the hay in ahead of the rain clouds and yet stop in mid-field and race to help when he sees the first smoke from a neighbor’s place. So God made a farmer.

God said, “I need somebody strong enough to clear trees and heave bails, yet gentle enough to tame lambs and wean pigs and tend the pink-combed pullets, who will stop his mower for an hour to splint the broken leg of a meadow lark. It had to be somebody who’d plow deep and straight and not cut corners. Somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder and finish a hard week’s work with a five-mile drive to church.

“Somebody who’d bale a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who would laugh and then sigh, and then reply, with smiling eyes, when his son says he wants to spend his life ‘doing what dad does.'” So God made a farmer.

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