A 180-Degree Turn

In my post yesterday I wrote about how I witnessed the birth of baby goats. This morning I arrived at the barn earlier than usual to check on the three babies and I found them clean, warm, and well fed by their mama. When I went to another pen to feed the goats there I found one of the younger goats from that pen laying on her side, cold and seemingly not breathing. With trepidation, I entered the pen. I gently nudged the kid and felt her chest for any sign of life. There was none. I nudged her a few more times to make sure. The result was the same. She was dead.

It was a 180-degree turn from the amazement I'd felt yesterday. Still amazed today, it was because of the fragility of life. There was no sign of injury or illness. I guess it was just her time to leave this world. I messaged the couple who were handling the evening shift at the farm and they said there had been no sign of anything wrong the night before, so somewhere in the previous 12-14 hours death visited her and she followed.

Now came the hard part of informing my friends.  They are out of the country so when I messaged them I had to wait a bit for an answer. In the meantime, I had to move the dead goat out of the pen until I knew what to do with her permanently. I didn't want the other goats to do any damage to her body, and though I'm not sure about this, I think they understood that their pen-mate was gone.  I carried her small, limp body and gently laid her on the hay outside the pen. When they replied to my text I was instructed on where to place her, so once again I had to carry the dead body to the site until someone could come and take her to her final place.

I've witnessed death. I was with both my parents when they passed away and kissed each of them a final goodye. And I held each of my five dogs as they were put down. But I have never had to handle dead bodies. This was not my animal, and wasn't even a typical pet but "just" a farm animal. I had no emotional attachment to her so I don't feel any grief. But as I carried her - first from the pen and then to the porch area - I felt an immense sense of responsibility. As her caretaker, I was obliged to handle her with the respect due her as a being created by God and entrusted to me by her owners and her Creator.

In the Garden, God gave Adam and Eve, and by extension all of us, dominion over the all the animals of the earth; but dominion doesn't mean we have absolute control. Our authority over animals does not give us the right to abuse, disrespect, or dishonor their place as creatures of our mutual Creator. In having dominion over the animals, God delegated to us the right and the responsibility to care for his creation, just as he cares for us. In the gospels of Matthew and Luke, Jesus says the Father cares for the sparrows, so how much more does he care for us.  Psalm, 36:6 says "You, LORD, preserve both people and animals".

This week I've been tasked with dominion over my friends' animals. It has been my responsibilty to make sure they have food and water, and that they are secured in their pens. Yesterday I had the privilege to see some newborn kids only an hour or two old and to actually witness the birth of their youngest sibling. And this morning I had the responsibility and the privilege to escort this tiny goat, who's name I don't even know, towards her final resting place.  I gave her soft fur one last pet and a little scritch behind her ear. I appreciated the beauty of her coat, blocks of black and what looked to me like a latte-like brown with patches of white tossed in for good measure.

I've been caring for these animals for five days now and I don't recall noticing this little goat at all before; but I will notice her absence tomorrow. And now, I will remember her forever.

The G.O.A.T.

 

I'm helping some friends care for their various animals while they are out of town. They have dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, and goats.  One goat, Tilly was due to deliver  her kids on October 1, before they left; but apparently baby goats are just as hard to predict as human babies, and Tilly was still quite preganant as of October 6. 

When I arrived for this morning's feedings (10/7) my co-farmworker, Stacy and I saw that Tilly had delivered two kids sometime during the night and was in the process of delivering a third.  It was an amazing experience to witness the birth of this tiny being, and though goats have been delivering kids for many millenia, for me I felt as if I was witnessing a miracle. While delivering kid #3 she was simultaneously cleaning #2 while  #1 was trying to nurse. No one ever taught these animals how to give birth, clean or nurse. They knew instinctively what they wanted and needed to do. It was built in to how they were created. While only humans were made in the image of God, that doesn't mean we can't grow to know Him more through bits of His creation.

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the expanse proclaims the work of his hands. Day after day they pour out speech; night after night they communicate knowledge. There is no speech; there are no words; their voice is not heard. Their message has gone out to the whole earth, and their words to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19: 1-4  

There is much to be learned about God by "touching grass"; by spending time with and reflecting on His creation. Just as one can gain insight in to the minds of daVinci and Hemingway by pondering their works, we can get to know more of who God is by spending time with His creation.

I was born and raised in the inner city, but I am not so much a city girl as to not know that bacon comes from pigs, hamburger comes from cows, and the chicken I like so much comes from...well, chickens. I've visited farms and petting zoos, listened to farming friends talk about their animals. However, this was the first time I've ever cared for and interacted with farm animals to this extent.

As I've thought about the farm work I've been doing this week  I realized this was a taste of what Adam and Eve experienced in the Garden, and a bit of what life will be like on the New Earth. I've often thought about what work I will do on the New Earth once Jesus returns.  There won't be any need for healthcare so my occupation procuring medical supplies will not be needed. So what career options will I have? I've always  figured I'd work with dogs and cats; maybe work in the kitchen baking bread or pies. After this week, my options have expanded and I think I'd like to work with goats. In the process I will know even better that God is the One and only G.O.A.T.

Kid #1 I named Sunshine because I've been singing to Mama Tilly "You Are My Sunshine"

This is Kid #2 - "Skunk" named for his coloring and in keeping with the music theme, named after Guitarist Jeff "Skunk" Baxter who played with Steely Dan and the Doobie Brothers.

Kid #3 I named "Sloopy" for the song "Hang on Sloopy"

First and Lasts and Everything in Between: A Eulogy for My Dad

My dad died Februay 7, 2025. This is what I shared at his memorial service.

John "Ed" Best

September 9, 1929 - February 7, 2025

 In the Fall of 1957, my brother, Bruce entered first grade.  Determined to be the best father (no pun intended) and active in his son’s education, he attended his first PTA meeting.  When he arrived and saw how few fathers were in attendance, he went home and never attended another PTA meeting again.  UNTIL, Spring of 1979, the final PTA meeting of my Senior Year of High School.

That evening, my dad accompanied my mom because she was in charge of refreshments that night and he was there to help her. I was there because they were honoring the Seniors. My dad did the usual dad stuff of moving chairs, carrying trays. He did the heavy lifting. But he was being his most personable and charming self in the process.  At the end of the meeting he helped clean up and was in the kitchen with the nuns washing dishes, telling jokes. They were charmed. One remarked “Oh, Mr Best, if only we had more fathers like you who came to these meetings!”.  My mother did a slow burn!!! The ride home was very quiet.

Daddy was there for many firsts - first days of school, first lost teeth (which he probably yanked from our mouths), first birthdays, first communions.  He and my mom even drove 4 hours to be there for the birth of their first grandchild, Bruce’s son, Ed.  And there was the time of my first car accident. He drove my mom up from Pittsburgh to see for themselves that I was ok. They spent the night at my apartment, saw me off to work the next day, and drove back to Pittsburgh.  They were in Erie less than 12 hours!

He was there for some lasts, too. High School and College graduations for his children and grandchildren. Bruce and my retirement parties. And he was there for the last breath of his wife, our mom.

Firsts and lasts stand out; they frame a life like the easier pieces of a jigsaw puzzle; but really, it’s the thousands of moments that fall in between that fit together and display the complete and more accurate, a more beautiful picture of a person’s life. And when that person lives to be 95, its more like tens of thousands of puzzle pieces!  Moments like the whole family piled on the couch watching TV, family dinners, school picnics, backyard picnics, holiday celebrations, sitting on the side of the road while he changed a flat tire.  Trips to Dairy Queen, which were rare and so very special; walks around the Highland Park Reservoir, camping trips. For a rib-achingly funny story, afterwards go see my Aunt Joan, Uncle Tom, Aunt Nancy, or nephew Chris and ask them to tell you about a certain canoe trip during a camping vacation to Cook’s Forest!

A little over 2000 years ago a religious scholar tried to test Jesus. As relayed in the Gospel of Luke, the scholar tried to test Jesus by asking him who exactly was his neighbor that he had to love like himself. This scholar wanted to get it right but didn’t want to overextend himself. Jesus responded with the story of the Good Samaritan. Daddy understood the instructions. He was a Good Samaritan.

It didn’t matter to him your faith, your nationality, your education, your political affiliation - if you needed something he could provide, it was yours. He gave away countless homegrown vegetables, canned goods, paper products, coupons. Friends and neighbors would get strange refund checks in the mail for products they’d never purchased because he’d bought ten (on double coupon day, of course) and submitted ten separate refunds - but it was only one per household so he sent them to anyone he could think of.

We lived on your average Pittsburgh hills. I say I grew up on a hill on top of a hill. Bruce, Jean, Cassie, and I really DID walk uphill to school both ways!  Up Rosetta Street, down Rosetta Street, down Graham, over Broad Street to Saint Lawrence School - and then the reverse for the trip home. On rainy days my dad would pick us up and drive us home - us and 5 or six other neighborhood kids; all of us piled in to the car with our bookbags. He gave total strangers rides up the hill. One time I mentioned I was praying for him and he said “Barb, don’t bother. I was just blessed a hundred times over. I gave couple of ladies a ride up the hill with their groceries and all they kept saying was “Thank you Jesus! Bless this man! Thank you Jesus!’”

Having him here in Erie the past two years was a blessing. We were able to provide him with some of his firsts - his first taste of Mighty Fine donuts, his first Romolo’s Meltaway candy, his first trip to Panos’ and the White Turkey restaurants…hmmm, there’s a theme there.

He was there for the firsts, lasts, and thousands of in betweens. And I feel I can speak for my siblings when I say we were honored to be able to care for him in his final months. We were able to give back to him what he had demonstrated for us. And we thank you for being here for us as we say goodbye this last time.