Grand Sir's Dilemma

This Saturday, my brother-in-law and sister repaired the fence on the east side of the meadow for which Mother and I are so  grateful. This recollection of the meadow was written six years ago in 2013, and later published in The Vision. At the time this occurred, Angie, Mother, and I were steeped in Dad’s care. He had not had his second stroke. Angie and I guarded what we said about Grand Sir since Dad wanted to be helping with anything done with the cattle. Grand Sir was sold just a few weeks before Dad's death.

Bull in the Meadow!

            What a shock and disappointment to see! There was the bull in the misty green meadow! That was one of the worst things that could happen on the farm, especially so close to haymaking.

We had been experiencing a drought for two years. Last year the hay crop from our meadow had to be stretched with close feed management during the winter. We had baled less than half of the hay we normally would. What a blow to see that 2,000-pound bull leisurely grazing in the beautifully green meadow! If he could get into the meadow, I worried that the rest of the herd could, too.

My sister arrived later in the day and agreed to help me try to get the bull out of the meadow. I told her my plan. I would try to guide him from the extreme northwest corner of the meadow to the small opening on the meadow’s southwest corner. Then I would guide him north up the lane and out the breach he had created in the fence. Angie would wait at another gate monitoring and assessing how I would most need her help.

I walked to the northwest corner of the meadow with my self-made staff in the hand. My staff was just a sturdy, long stick. As soon as I reached the bull, I began to talk to him about getting out of the meadow. When I began caring for the cattle after my father’s stroke, I began affectionately calling his large, white bull “Grand Sir.” As I guided him along the west fence line of the meadow, I reminded him when he was tempted to dawdle, “Go on, Grand Sir, go on.” I had to persist in guiding him as he slowly lumbered south along the west edge of the hay meadow. He really wanted to continue sampling the tender, young grass of the meadow, not realizing he was devouring the herd’s only fodder for the cold, winter months.

As we approached the narrow opening, I began wondering if Grand Sir would allow himself to be guided through such a constricted space into the lane. I continued cajoling him by saying things like “You’re smart. You know where to go. You know what to do.”

I could hear my sister questioning, “Will he go through there? Can he fit through there?”

Grand Sir

I continued to affirm that he could and would get through that small gap. I had been bragging on how smart and sensible he was since I began caring for my parent’s small cattle herd. Grand Sir’s greatest flaw was the same as most bulls – he was extremely determined to do what he wanted to do. It was difficult to dissuade Grand Sir when he was resolute to do something.

About that time Grand Sir, the large Charolais bull, squeezed through the narrow opening in the corner of the fence to get into the lane. Soon I was careening down the steep slope, attempting to keep up as he was barreling down the hill into the lane. 

Within just a few steps after arriving at the bottom of the slope, the bull was approaching the breach in the west fence of the lane that had started all of this. We were nearing the wire gate in the fence where he had pushed through much earlier in the day. My sister was standing north of the broken gate in the rusty barbed wire fence.

Grand Sir looked at her realizing he could not proceed that northerly direction. My sister had opened the gate where he had initially gain entry to the lane and then the meadow. He looked at the exit from the lane to which I had led him.

Finally, I walked to the breach he had created and stated, “See, Grand Sir. Here is the way to get out of here.” With that, I walked through the rusty wire gate. I began urging him to come through the gate so he could get with the rest of the herd.

Grand Sir stood hesitating for what seemed an eternity looking north at my sister and then back at the gate and beyond it to me. At long last, he slowly ambled through the rusty wire gate to rejoin the herd.

As my sister and I repaired the old wire gate to insure the security of the meadow until after the baling of it into hay, my sister commented how the bull knew exactly where we were leading him to go. He clearly understood what we wanted him to do. She said, “Even though he knew where he was supposed to go, he had to decide if he really wanted to do that.”

Aren’t people so many times like that? God makes quite clear what He desires for us specifically to do or where He wills us to go, but instead of immediately obeying, we waver, almost as if weighing the upcoming results of our decision. 

The Lord’s way is succinctly shown in Psalm 16:11 “You reveal the path of life to me; in Your presence is abundant joy; in Your right hand are eternal pleasures.”

Our heavenly Father makes known unmistakably His will and way for us, but we are much like Grand Sir. We hesitate and vacillate between our way and wishes and His will.   

God promises abundant joy and lasting pleasures in His presence after we choose to travel the road, He has shown us. What indescribable guidance! He plainly discloses His plan for our lives and then rewards us for our forthright obedience and trust of Him. Jesus told His disciples that if they loved Him they would keep His commandments. They would submit to His will.      

 Lord, give me unwavering trust in You and Your will. Use that trust as an impetus in my heart to stir up immediate obedience as You show me Your way. Guard my mind and heart against hesitation and indecision. May I recognize my submission to Your will is a direct reflection of my love for You.