My dad had died, and I was living with my mom on the family farm in rural Kansas. Being a single parent, I worked full time as a nurse and Mom took care of my two little boys for me, so I didn’t have to pay for a babysitter. I loved living in the country. Having coffee on the porch and watching the sun come up over the horizon while listening to the bird’s sing was a small piece of heaven. Our home had big windows. It was open and airy. Knowing that my kids were safe and loved while I worked was a tremendous blessing but living on a farm is work. There are daily chores that must be tended to and as a rule, chores were done before breakfast.
My oldest son, Luke had a bucket calf named Carmel that he fed three times a day. The first month we had Carmel I took Luke (6) and his little brother Ethan (4) to my side and taught them both how to mix the formula, making sure the water was warm but not hot and demonstrated how to feed her. We made sure to spend some time grooming her and leading her around, so she was calm and tame. She was a lively little calf and when she saw us coming would jump and bawl with excitement. She loved her groceries! Especially the starter grain that we gave her. She grew rapidly and soon had horns.
One spring morning, I decided that the boys needed to take care of their chores on their own and sent them to the barn with their bottle of milk. They knew how to feed her by now and needed to learn some independence. Off they went with all the confidence of Batman and his side kick Robin.
I went about my day.
A few minutes later, I saw a flash move across the front lawn. I thought, “That’s odd,” but it didn’t register that anything might be wrong.
Then I saw the flash again. I went to the front door and saw Ethan, wide eyed, his red cowboy boots churning for the safety of the porch while his older brother shot around the side of the house, grain bucket in hand, followed by a very excited calf with horns.
There had been no time for screaming.
Carmel had escaped her pen and was barrelling towards them.
A good parent would have gone outside and helped.
I just stood at the window and watched as Luke made another loop around the house hanging onto that grain bucket like it was a lifeline for the Titanic. Carmel was gaining ground on him with each lap. Ethan had made it to the safety of the porch. I couldn’t stop laughing. Ethan was in tears thinking his brother was going down for the count.
Epic Parenting Failure.
Every parent has them.
No one is immune.
On the third loop around the house, Luke dropped the bucket. As soon as he did, Carmel quit the chase and devoured her grain. As Luke would tell it, he had a near death experience and from that day on, he was done with farm life. That kid has unspeakable resolve. Ethan recovered after finding out Luke was not going to die although future trips to the barn were filled with trepidation. We sold Carmel not long afterwards.
In the United States, we wrongfully believe that we are the captain of our own lives. We have ultimate control. Hard work and ambition is the path to success. My kids certainly modelled that as they marched out to the barn together that fateful day.
The reality: God is in control. Not man.
Man makes mistakes. We fall. We wrongfully judge. We do things we shouldn’t and don’t do things we should.
The real point of the story is love. Love is a skill that we have to learn and we learn that by choosing each day to love well. We do the best we can, and when we fail we admit the mistake, apologize, learn from it and move on. We model that to our kids.
I later apologized for not stepping in and congratulated them on their swift thinking and problem solving skills. We talked about how, if it happened again, we might make sure the gate is secure and discussed why the calf was chasing Luke.
This wasn’t the first, or the last epic parenting failure that I had over the years. My kids are grown now, and this story, although a failure, is a treasured one. Life happens. Mistakes are made. Trust God. It all works out in the end.
Calm Journey 