Happy Cows

      

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