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Out our way, for most folks, quitting time comes when the job is done and not before. Nowhere is that more clear than in agriculture.
Now, some of you may recall the story of "Junior," that Charolais bull that went missing one day. In case you missed it or have forgotten the story, here it is in brief.
It was time to move the herd from summer to winter pasture and after we had the herd rounded up and on the move, it was my job to go collect the bulls. This was not a big deal because after the "season," the bulls became fairly docile and hung out with each other in the "Good Old Boys' Club" a mile or two behind the herd. It wasn't hard to find them all bunched together, but when Doc and I rode up, we only found five instead of the six that should have been there. One was missing.
Now, "Junior" was a new bull and I will assume not fully grown, as he was very visibly smaller than the others. When I did a quick head count I noted all the bulls were full-sized. Junior was missing. Earlier that year, we had found a missing bull in a coulee with a broken leg, so I had some concern that "wee Junior" had had an accident and was lying out there somewhere. So I rode up to the front of the herd to get Charlie, together we began searching.
Now, you may think spotting a missing bull in the "big open" is no trick, but up there on the Tiger Ridge there are a lot of hidden spots that all had to be explored. In addition, many of them were filled with thorn bushes, cottonwoods and brush that, even where there were cattle trails, still had to be pushed through. So, when you see cowboys with heavy chaps, thick leather gloves, long-sleeve shirts and scarves tied tight about the neck and face, you know it is not about fashion. Believe me, they are needed when riding in the brush.
As you can imagine, the process of hunting for Junior was a long and hard one, for, until he was found, we would not quit searching. As Charlie and I joked when we were facing extra long hours in the saddle and difficult terrain to cover, "Quitting ain't the cowboy way!"
Maybe so, but after about three hours of riding in and out of thorn infested ravines - hot, scratched up and bone tired - I wanted to become an accountant or some job with a time clock. But "it ain't the cowboy way."
Well, as some of you will recall, we finally did find Junior miles away from the main herd, with his own little harem. There he was, almost winking his eye at us as we topped the ridge and found him lying in splendor surrounded by his beauties. To complete the story, we got Junior and the ladies back to the herd and continued our task of driving them all to the good pasture for the winter.
I get why "the good shepherd" image is so common in the Bible, for the ancient shepherd and the modern cowboy share a good deal in common - but be cautious about sharing that - sheep and cattle are still touchy subjects for some folks. The point being, shepherds and cowboys don't quit, and neither does God. As long as you have life, the Boss is looking to bring you home to the safe pasture with the living water. You may think you are a lost cause - you have been a stray too long to be bothered with - but even the oldest and wildest maverick still matters and can become part of the herd.
The "slaughter house" belongs to the other "guy." He rounds up the strays and rustles the lost ones in order to destroy them. The Boss, on the other hand, seeks those strays to get them to good pasture (Psalm 23) in order to save them. He is pretty good about changing ear tags and brands as well. After all, He has paid the price for you and legally you are part of His herd. The "Rustler" may claim you because he caught you wandering - but the Boss hasn't quit and claims you for His own. He won't quit on you even if you have quit on Him. It just ain't the cowboy way
Be blessed and be a blessing!
Brother John
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The Rev. John Bruington is the retired pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Havre. He now lives in Colorado, but continues to write "Out Our Way." He can be reached for comment or dialogue at [email protected].
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