Caleb, Porter and Hope

Same snapshot as 5 days earlier ... maybe gaining a little weight.

So I decided to name the baby heifer Hope. She is just as precious as she can be. This last week we have become pretty close. She now walks up to me to get the bottle. After she is finished drinking, she licks and nudges around on me like I am her real momma. Yesterday she started putting her head between my legs and rubbing up and down on my legs. Such a cow instinct. I tried to capture some pictures this morning ... it was difficult trying to feed and take pics, but I got a few ok ones. As you will notice, I am wearing one of CR's sweaters. It was about 60 outside when I fed this morning. Gotta love Texas! :)

This is better than ice cream, mom!

Oh your kisses, are sweeter than honey!


She has decided that she feels comfortable and safe when she sticks her head between my legs. Almost as if she is hiding from the rest of the world behind big momma's booty.

Caleb and Porter at one month. They will be here this weekend for Mariann and Micah's wedding!


Hanging with Daddy. Kath did not specify, but I think this is Porter. How do you like Jody's beard?

And I leave you with something from Max Lacado. I really enjoy this analogy. Similar to the analogy that we are the clay and He is the potter. I just wish I could learn to let Him mold me more.

The Blacksmith's Shop
by Max Lucado

In the shop of a blacksmith, there are three types of tools. There are tools on the junk pile:
outdated, broken, dull, rusty.
They sit in the cobwebbed corner, useless to their master, oblivious to their calling.
There are tools on the anvil:
melted down, molten hot, moldable, changeable.
They lie on the anvil, being shaped by their master, accepting their calling.
There are tools of usefulness:
sharpened, primed, defined, mobile.
They lie ready in the blacksmith's tool chest, available to their master, fulfilling their calling.
Some people lie useless:
lives broken, talents wasting, fires quenched, dreams dashed.
They are tossed in with the scrap iron, in desperate need of repair, with no notion of purpose.
Others lie on the anvil:
hearts open, hungry to change, wounds healing, visions clearing.
They welcome the painful pounding of the blacksmith's hammer, longing to be rebuilt, begging to be called.
Others lie in their Master's hands:
well tuned, uncompromising, polished, productive.
They respond to their Master's forearm, demanding nothing, surrendering all.
We are all somewhere in the blacksmith's shop. We are either on the scrap pile, in the Master's hands on the anvil, or in the tool chest. (Some of us have been in all three.)
From the shelves to the workbench, from the water to the fire...I'm sure that somewhere you will see yourself.
Paul spoke of becoming "an instrument for noble purposes." And what a becoming it is! The rubbish pile of broken tools, the anvil of recasting, the hands of the Master- it's a simultaneously joyful and painful voyage.
And for you who make the journey--who leave the heap and enter the fire, dare to be pounded on God's anvil, and doggedly seek to discover your own purpose--take courage, for you await the privilege of being called "God's chosen instruments."

The chosen Bible verse for today, that I had been studying on before I even came across this passage from Max:
"For those whom He forknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His son, so that He would be the firstborn among many brethren; and these whom He predestined, He also called; and these whom He called, He also justified; and these whom He justified, He also glorified." Romans 8:29-30