“I don’t know you,” the humongous cow seemed to say to me. She was painted on the side of the truck milk tanker on the Massachusetts Turnpike.
Right on both accounts. I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me.
This portal to heaven was convicting because I was so far removed from her that the closest I got to her story was zooming past her as the big truck
struggled up the mountain in the slower lane. It would take a lot of milk to make that tank so heavy.
I couldn’t remember the last time I was up close and personal to Ole Besse. I’ve never milked a cow that I can remember. I barely notice them behind the fences on the country roads.
But I do enjoy a Haagen-Das bowl of creamy Dulce de Leche
or an extra strawberry strawberry shake…as long as I don’t have to walk through the muck and smell of Old Besse’s barn and wrestle with her ornery teats.
My father in the faith used to recall how he resented getting up at four in the morning on a winter day to milk the cows when he was a young boy.
The closest I’ve gotten to those horrid temperatures is when that delicious caramel and coffee spoonful makes my lips lusciously cold. I guess that’s not quite the same.
PORTAL TO HEAVEN: It is easy to get far removed from that which feeds us. How are our devotional lives going? Do we solely depend on someone spoon-feeding us?
Draw near to God and He will draw near to you
James 4:8 (NASB)