Jeremiah 31: 13 …I will turn their
mourning into gladness; I will give them comfort and joy instead of sorrow. NIV
Herds of cattle milled around. Young
calves joined mama cows. I fit in with my white shirt and hat sprinkled with
spots.
My marathon Chick Fil A day began
with breakfast before volunteering at the library. As I munched on hash brown
potatoes and a fluffy chicken biscuit, soft Christian music played. My mind
sang with along with the peaceful instrumentals.
For years, Alan and I dressed as
cows for the annual customer appreciation day. Ashlyn and Emily joined us a
couple of times.
With Alan gone and the girls in
Colorado, I decided to venture out alone. We had never done breakfast so my outing
began at a new time in a different location.
I didn’t anticipate the sadness that
squeezed me as I sat alone. Tears stung. Cows passed by me and I tried to
smile. With memories bombarding me, I pushed down my meal. Inside I was weeping.
My mood improved at the library as I
stacked books and explained my unusual outfit. I encouraged patrons and
volunteers to also get a free meal by dressing up as a cow.
For lunch, I picked a bustling
restaurant on my way home. Even at 1:30 pm, groups of cows huddled at the
counter and filled the tables. The
festivities pushed away my grief for a while.
I marveled at the creative costumes
and what people would do for a free meal. I laughed at unsuspecting, shocked
customers who stared at the craziness and wondered what was going on. All ages
and sizes of cows roamed. Everyone smiled during the huge party.
Dark clouds hovered as I got into my
car to start home. With storms predicted, I decided to stop at the mall and
avoid the torrents. Walking the mall in my cow uniform brought glances and
stares. Adults looked away quickly. Children stared.
Before leaving, I stopped at another
Chick Fil A in the food court for take out. The lemonade tasted good on the
ride home.
A former neighbor texted to see if
we could meet for dinner. A few years earlier, they had joined us for their
first cow day with their young daughter. Their family had grown with the
addition of a son. We all dressed up and had dinner near my home.
While their children romped in the
playground, we talked. Catching up and remembering Alan helped me avoid my
earlier grief and enjoy the meal.
Even though I missed Alan and my
granddaughters, friends helped fill the gap. Strangers even helped fill my
emptiness with their giggling and silliness. Memories comforted. Different
situations formed new ones.
As I put my ensemble away, I put
mine on top of Alan’s. Each year he carefully stored our hats, spotted shirts,
rope tails, and signs. No longer would he wear the amusing costume. But as I
closed the drawer, a little more of the grief disappeared.
Though my life changed radically
when Alan died, it isn’t over. More adventures await.
Loving Father, thank you for helping me
laugh and make new memories. Amen
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