Lily is three weeks old now. She has almost quadrupled in weight, from about 5 pounds to almost 20 pounds. She's been disbudded, meaning that we've burned off the tiny horn buds when they first appeared. Just one of those things that has to be done, and the sooner the better. Lily was eight days old and scarely missed a beat. I hope we did a thorough job.
She's getting all of Claire's milk that she cares to have, being the only kid. Only problem is that she's only nursing from one side of the udder. So Claire's a little lopsided most of the time. We've been milking out the other side every morning, getting Claire used to the idea and easing the pressure. If Lily's twin brother had lived, things would have been a little more equitable and we'd soon be putting the kids up at night, milking Claire from both sides of her udder each morning, and letting the kids have the rest for the next 14 hours. We'd also be selling them both, but as it is, with just one little baby goat, well, we'll just keep her. Not that we need another goat. More like, she needs her herd, being an only kid.
Plans change according to circumstances, and we're still milking Maggie every morning, just to insure a milk supply. It's been her job for several years now and she seems to enjoy being the lead goat. Still, we'll probably be drying her off in a few weeks, and hoping that Claire willingly assumes her new title, and that Maggie will enjoy her time off.
Our fragile lives can change in an instant, for good or ill. Plans change daily, sometimes. What we thought we were going to do, we're not, and now we're going to do something different, only we're not quite sure what it is, just yet. But God knows. He knows the end from the beginning.
I have a tendancy to fret about things future, near and far. I worry about little things and things I have no control over. I wish I didn't and I try not to, but still, the worries come in the dark hours of a sleepless night.
I had a dream the other night. In it, I was riding on a motorcycle behind my husband (when we met, he rode a Kawasawki and I spent many hours holding on for dear love). In the dream, we came up over a hill on a rainy night, and the other side was one steep, muddy, slick mess, with a sheer wall of rock on one side and a long drop over a cliff on the other side. I took one look and knew we would never make it, and that I had no power whatsoever to do anything about it, other than to hold on. So, I did just that. I put my head down, behind my husband's back, closed my eyes, and prayed as we slip-slided down the muddy mountain road. Then, I heard my husband's voice saying, "Open your eyes, and look." Somehow, we had made it down the mountain without going over the edge. We were on a tiny ledge at the bottom of the steep muddy road, with mere inches insuring our safety. But we had made it and we were together, in one piece! And all I did was close my eyes and trust.
That's all God asks of us, to just close our eyes and trust in Him to take us through, all the way. He knows the end from the beginning, and He has promised us that if we are His own, it will be all right in the end. He has promised. And I believe Him. Lord, help me trust.
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