Grace in all of its ways

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist
Today, I washed out the cattle trailer. It is one of those jobs that needs to be done once a year, and as I shoveled out what needed shoveling and then hosed down the walls and floor, I thought of grace, the grace of the cattle as they easily followed me into the trailer, the grace of the field and garden crops we harvest and the grace of all life here in the creek valley. I am so very fortunate.
As I worked, it occurred to me that grace has many meanings.
There is the grace of a woman who walks with her head held high as she appears to float across the ground rather than step.
There is the title with which one honors a king or queen, or a religious leader, as one addresses them as "Your Grace."
And, of course there is the blessing of thanks that folks often say before a meal as they bow their heads in prayer.
One of our daughters is vegan. She eats no animal byproducts whatsoever, and even though I do eat meat, I understand her passion. She stopped by for a visit a few weeks ago as I was training the cattle to step easily into the trailer. I called to our bovines and they came right over and followed me inside as I exited out the side door. "Turn around" our daughter called to the cattle. I smiled. We hugged.
It was just a few days ago that I called the cattle inside the trailer for the last time. They stepped right up and Greg closed the rear door behind them. They didn't fret in the least, and simply contentedly munched away on their hay and special treat. We pulled out of the driveway, and headed off down the road, the little horses wondering why the cattle were off on an adventure while they were left behind.
We arrived, cattle in tow, at our destination. Greg deftly backed the trailer up to the wood-gated path that would lead the cattle inside the building. The fellow who greeted us stood back and watched as we opened the rear door, and then we all stood by and watched as the cattle stepped down out of the trailer at their leisure. They slowly headed off along the wooden fenced aisle. There was no need to stress them, none at all.
Several weeks will now pass, and the beef will age, and then we will get a call that it is ready to be picked up, frozen and packaged. We will drive back down the creek valley road, our truck now loaded with coolers, and we will spend the day driving thither and yon, dropping off pasture raised beef to Greg's aunt and uncle, Greg's brother and his wife, two of our sons, our non-vegan daughter, and two of our grown grandchildren.
I think of grace in all of its ways. There is the grace of the cattle as they live in our pasture and bring me joy. Perhaps I should call one Grace, as I have come to know that they really are graceful creatures, but no, I'd better not. We call them by number, so we will not become too attached, though on occasion we have referred to them as T-Bone or Chuck. Then, there is the grace of the deer, the eagle, and the great blue heron with whom we share the creek valley along with the cattle, and of course, there is the thankful grace as we sit down at our table before we eat.
So today, there I was, ironically swabbing out the trailer, covered in you know what, and totally surrounded by grace. Such is life down here in the creek valley, this life for which I feel so very thankful.
Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.
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