Have you ever had those moments when you did something, then stood back, mouth agape, wondering what in the world had motivated you to do it? My entire childhood was filled with those jaw-dropping, wide-eyed moments because I had tendency to act before my brain caught up with my hands, feet or whatever body part I’d set in motion.
For a chunk of my childhood, I grew up in the country, surrounded by farms and cattle. We lived in a story-and-half yellow house located along the side of a long, two-lane highway, about five miles or so from town.
One afternoon, my sister and I crossed under the barbed wire fence that separated our property from the dairy farm next to us to pick blackberries for jam. Our parents must have sent us out on assignment, because the two of us rarely hung out together, unless forced. (She was older; and I was the younger, annoying tag-along. I’m sure you can relate, regardless of which side of that relationship you grew up on.) You’d think, considering how rare my time with my sister was and how much I’d craved it, I’d be on my best behavior. Or at the very least, determined not to be my annoying self.
But that would’ve required more forethought than my 11-year-old brain possessed. At least, at that moment, when my gaze zeroed in on that big, flat, dry cow pie only inches from my feet. As I reached for it, I can honestly tell you nothing, and I mean nothing, went through my mind.
Other than, “Throw this at your sister.”
Maybe I was trying to simulate a snow fight, I don’t know.
You know where this is going, right? Yes, I really did pick that cow pie up, with my bare hands, and then, I pulled my arm back, swung it forward, and released my grip.
And then stared, mouth agape, as the dried refuse flew straight at my sister.
Had I really just done that?
Would you be impressed to learn the cow pie made contact?
With my sister’s face?
Yeah, she wasn’t, either, and she showed me just how unimpressed she was, when she fisted her hand, pulled back her arm, then released it, her knuckles making contact with my nose.
Neither of us left the pastures happy that day, although I will tell you, it was the last time I hurled dried cow poop!
Can you relate? Which side of the relationship did you grow up on—the always annoyed (and at times, covered in cow manure) older sibling or the unthinking, annoying younger child? Share your stories with us in the comments below.
Jennifer Slattery writes soul-stirring fiction for New Hope Publishers, a publishing house passionate about bringing God’s healing grace and truth to the hopeless. She also writes for Crosswalk.com, Internet Café Devotions, and the group blog, Faith-filled Friends. When not writing, Jennifer loves going on mall dates with her adult daughter and coffee dates with her hilariously fun husband. Visit with Jennifer online at JenniferSlatteryLivesOutLoud.com and connect with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/JenSlattery
Her latest book is Intertwined. Abandoned by her husband for another woman, Tammy Kuhn, an organ procurement coordinator, often finds herself in tense and bitter moments. After an altercation with a doctor, she is fighting to keep her job and her sanity when one late night she encounters her old flame Nick. She walks right into his moment of facing an unthinkable tragedy. Because they both have learned to find eternal purposes in every event and encounter, it doesn’t take long to discover that their lives are intertwined but the ICU is no place for romance….or is it? Could this be where life begins again?