Diversity in the Day

About a month ago, I had a day where several "firsts" occurred. Early in the morning, my beautiful daughter started high school as a 9th grader at Cuthbertson High School. She was glowing and gorgeous in an outfit that had won out after trying on every piece of clothing in her closet. That first day was so essential, to feel the confidence of entering a new school with new teens. I was so excited for her and so proud listening to the chatter of her with friends. The "empty nest" monster looms in the shadows but will not be allowed to pounce this day or this year, but I feel his breath and he's much too close.

In the early afternoon I relished another "first" as I drove to Catawba Nuclear Plant for a tour associated with my job. In my 27 years of working for a nuclear research facility, I don't really know why it took me so long to step foot in a power plant. I was fascinated beyond my expectations. There's something inside of me that thrives with mechanisms. The sites and sounds of the day were like adding flesh to a skeleton and color to a black and white picture. A first in experiencing the noise of the turbines, the security of entrance and exit (yes, it made me feel very good) and the site of the cooling towers. It's a "dark geeky" side of me that not many people know about, after all who gets excited seeing miles of piping?

But it was in the evening that I experienced one of my most profound firsts. I never had come across this circumstance nor had I read about how to handle this situation in any books that are on my shelf. I had a txt from a friend that simply said, "Pray, Linda's horse isn't doing well." And, so I said a quick prayer, knowing that I can't jump in the car on every txt or phone call. Within the hour, another message came. This time a voice mail from another friend, obviously upset, making me aware that things were not going well. I txt the first friend and ask "come or stay" and immediately "come" came back across my cell phone. So within the hour, I found myself sitting in a pasture with a magnificent lifeless horse at my reach and four beautiful women who I affectionately call "my horsey lady friends." I have often said that if I ever had to live in one of their barns, I'd be living better than most human beings because of the love, care and affection given to their animals. What does one do when sitting in a pasture with the passing of a beloved animal? I found myself intrigue with the beauty of this creature, even as still as he was. I stroked and caressed his head as if he might somehow enjoy this touch. My friend shared how he had arrived and the care given to him during the past several years. There were questions begin asked. Do pets go to heaven? Why would God allow this to happen? Couldn't God have prevented this? I'm learning that when questions are asked it doesn't necessarily mean an opportunity to open one's mouth and recite all the knowledge you have retained on this subject or regurgitate a sermon or scripture verse. Perhaps in that moment it was enough that we were just sitting there, a profound silence blanketed with deep care for both a horse who had just passed and our friend suffering great loss. I believe that God entrusted that horse to my friend who was a worthy caretaker of this great treasure. No philosophical lessons here; just a recognition of journeying together while sitting in a pasture marveling at a majestic creature and acknowledging God.