When you read the title of this post it may not make any sense. But, let me explain, this shovel is nothing special. It is just a plain shovel. I use it for a variety of tasks around the farm. There is one thing I do with this shovel that I dread the most, it is digging certain holes. A Hole? you ask, yes but it is not just any hole......
The hole I dig with this shovel tonight is watered with tears. It is the hole I use to bury.
Snickers gave birth earlier today, the first kid was a buckling, he was fit and full of life. The second kid was a doeling, as Snickers gave birth to her we knew something was wrong. We looked for any signs of life, but her tongue was pale, her eyes were clouded over and a bit sunken in. We think she died a few days ago, since she was fully formed. She died just before her teeth would erupt (one of the last things they do before being born). After we attended to Snickers and our little boy, whom we named Skittles. I went to dig a hole, when it was done I took her there and gently laid her to rest. All the time trying to hold back the tears so I could see to complete my work. I said a few words, told her she would be missed. I then closed that chapter by closing an open grave, there was no more I could do for her. It was time to tend the living.
Maybe next year.
So God made...a farmer
The hole I dig with this shovel tonight is watered with tears. It is the hole I use to bury.
Snickers gave birth earlier today, the first kid was a buckling, he was fit and full of life. The second kid was a doeling, as Snickers gave birth to her we knew something was wrong. We looked for any signs of life, but her tongue was pale, her eyes were clouded over and a bit sunken in. We think she died a few days ago, since she was fully formed. She died just before her teeth would erupt (one of the last things they do before being born). After we attended to Snickers and our little boy, whom we named Skittles. I went to dig a hole, when it was done I took her there and gently laid her to rest. All the time trying to hold back the tears so I could see to complete my work. I said a few words, told her she would be missed. I then closed that chapter by closing an open grave, there was no more I could do for her. It was time to tend the living.
Maybe next year.
So God made...a farmer
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