PREPARATION TIME                                                                            

My mother was very invested in us as we grew. Although we lived on a rather isolated island, she looked for opportunities where her children could learn new skills.

There were the very brief “Highland Fling” lessons with a young woman who temporarily lived nearby.  I still remember the swords placed on the floor—ones we were to carefully, rather daintily learn to dance around.

Then there was badminton at the community hall most Friday evenings.  On cold winter nights it was necessary to first light the barrel shaped wood stove located in one corner of the large room, and then have a volunteer go outside to pump drinking water from the well.  But it was fun, and we did learn to play the game.

When in our early teens though, Mom with several others, decided there should be a 4-H club on the island. We all learned the pledge, began the meetings and dove into rural projects. Our family wasn’t living on a working farm but we did have a garden, so we began with that.  Finding three or four lovely specimens of carrots, beans, potatoes or other vegetables for judgement day wasn’t overly exciting, but gardening was a good discipline. However the following year our mothers discovered that we could make competitive lamps out of driftwood, and some of the children expanded their horizons by raising chickens or rabbits.  Now this was becoming more interesting. 

Looking for a bit more of a challenge on year three, I was presented with the opportunity to train my very own calf.  When an island farmer offered one of his, I was captivated with the idea. 

What a dainty, lovely brown and white she was the day that “Buttercup” came into my life.  I don’t recall how I picked that intriguing name, but Buttercup it was and my responsibility was to care for her.  After feeding and watering each day I would need to carefully record her progress in the notebook provided by the 4H club.   Having her tethered to a stake on the edge of our large garden was not ideal, but that became her rather inadequate portion, and it was there she and I became acquainted.  When one patch of grass was too trampled I moved her to another. 

Gradually she did grow, and I attempted to lead her around the garden, to see if she would learn to respond to my training.  Alas, that was never very successful. On several occasions I found poor Buttercup at the end of her tight rope, and lying on the grass looking extremely uncomfortable.  As I struggled to loosen its grip around her neck I wondered with alarm, “Oh no, how long has she been lying like this? Has this caused brain damage to my gentle pet?”

As the months went by I realized that this dainty Hereford calf was not developing as I had hoped, and judging day was quickly approaching.  Success with her training was not progressing very well either, but all too soon the time arrived—the moment to show my calf along with others who were raised by the McCollum boys.  So we loaded Buttercup onto the back of our pickup and up the island we went for the competition. The judge was waiting. 

There were two other young calves there and in a nanosecond I realized my little darling was not going to measure up very well.  The others were at least 80 pounds heavier and they actually followed the boys as they were being led, while Buttercup continued to pull away and balk at my rope around her neck. (Perhaps she had been experiencing déjà vu regarding her times of near strangulation in the garden.)   She would not follow and would not hold the posing positions to show off her form to the judge.

Well, there was no place for me to hide at that moment, and as you may have guessed we were third out of three. Everyone was very nice about it— and even the McCollum boys tried not to openly laugh at the scene, but I still chuckle when I recall that day of discovery.  It had not been mere imagination on my part. This pet was definitely not up to par on judgement day. Perhaps we had both been ill equipped and poorly trained for this moment. Perhaps there was a less than generous reason the farmer had so willingly given up his calf.

Although that was an amusing experience it does remind me of a more momentous day—one when flawed, perhaps poorly trained believers will stand before our perfect, but loving Judge, the Lord Jesus. There is tremendous hope, for we have One who has invited us to come to Him and be made whole under His flawless training, His faultless equipping.  He, the great Creator, knows how to graciously groom us for that day. He is able to transform each of us into a person who will glorify Him, no matter how damaged or neglected we have been. No matter how difficult our trials. No matter how often we have come to the end of our ropes.  Will we accept the masterful training from His hand which is intended to set us free?  Each time we say, “Yes,” will bring us a step closer to hearing “Well done” on that day—the one that truly matters.

The 4-H pledge: “I pledge my head to clearer thinking, my heart to greater loyalty, my hands to larger service, and my health to better living for my club, my community, my country and my world.”