Monday, June 22, 2009

The Homely Goat

To be perfectly frank, he is rather ugly. Even for a goat. Rod brought the three month old Ringo home for a couple for a couple of reasons.


1. As a friend for Radar, Rod's beloved (yes, beloved) little, bottle-fed, adorable Alpine goat. Goats need company. Or they can get depressed and die. That would be sad.



2. Rod wanted to see what a La Mancha goat would be like. They are a breed which originated in Oregon (like La Marion berry), have no ears to speak of and are reputed to be the most lovable and affectionate of goats.



If "lovable and affectionate" can be read as "extremely needy and the noisiest goat EVER," then yes, I would have to enthusiastically agree.


Ringo bawls for hours in his nice warm and cozy stall. His wail can travel through closed doors and windows for miles. Reader Brenda can verify this fact.




He bawled like a baby crying for his mother for days. He lost his voice and then sounded like a goose with a pneumonia . It was awful. You mothers know how you feel when you hear a baby crying like that. You want to fix it. Fix it now. Comfort the little baby.








So we did. We would go out and hold him and comfort him. This is hard because he looks like an alien goat. Well, what an alien would look like if a planet of goat-like beings invaded Earth. Because he has no ears.


Are you frightened yet? You should see him when he bolts across the yard, full goat speed, and leaps at you. That is scary, my friends. SCARY.


But I am trying hard to love him, no matter that he is strange and different looking. As my daughter pointed out, I am always for the under-dog. Or under-goat, as the case may be. If that is true, then I should be wildly in love with this little guy. No matter that he bawls like a wounded elephant, or that he has chewed my Floribunda rose bush into a pile of thorny, flowerless twigs, or poops (BIG poop, I might add) on my front porch, or chases our cars down the driveway if one of us should ever leave or that he focuses his eyes directly on us in a freakishly disturbing manner.Or even that he smells kind of goaty.


He is still a creature that we need to care for. And we will look past his odd exterior into his little goat heart and love him anyway. Because he loves us. Well, he needs us, anyway.


I hope that God looks past my frumpy, not in perfect shape exterior and loves me anyway. Basically, I am a homely goat, too. (get off your high horse, you are,too) All needy and getting into trouble. But I'll follow Ringo's example here and bawl out my needs,stare directly at Him and race as fast as I can straight Jesus.




I love, love, LOVE how God uses all His creation to point to Himself. If we'll just look, there He is, all around us. All the time. Thank you so much, Lord.



My bloggy friend, Bev, (or as I call her "Crazy Chicken Lady") is catching the farmy flu, as well. Stop by and say "Howdy" to her. Because that is how we farm folk greet each other.

Here I am lovingly comforting poor little Ringo. You can see the special bond we share.
Please pray for us.

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