An hour after the branding irons had been heated, it seemed as though we hadn’t even made a noticeable dent in the south farm pasture herd of 80+ cattle that needed to be worked and I began to fear that we would be working throughout the day and well into the night at this rate. I needed more hands. I needed three hands for vaccinating, two for handing out the branding irons, two for tagging, two for documenting, two for worming, five for controlling the chute, the hot shot and our two youngest children.
And then I saw the hands of my oldest son arrive…. followed by the bear paw hands of my dear ol’ Dad.
And the angels sang.
I’m truly shocked that my Dad still comes to visit me.
But he never fails. He may find me cooking dinner, working in the garden, milking cows, putting out hay, scrubbing the barn, chasing stray cows, cleaning the house or working cows. He may leave smelling of roast beef, dirt, manure, dinner rolls, milk, oil, singed hair or chocolate cake.
It’s a toss up every time.
I’m just grateful he is up for whatever life throws his way.
This past July, he suffered a massive heart attack that damaged much of his heart. He’s been remarkable healthy his entire life, so to say it came as a shock is an understatement. It took a co-worker’s relentlessness combined with my husband’s certainty that his symptoms were that of a heart attack just to get him to the hospital. By the time I got to the hospital, he was already in surgery to clear the 100% blockage.
Having him around means the world to me… in more ways than one.