CRYING OVER SPILLED MILK

My Husband Ed had taken a job in Round Up Montana, home of rodeos and cowboys. If you have ever been there you would understand why this particular state was given the name Big Sky Country.

It was while in Round Up that I first experienced seeing a large end-to-end rainbow. Montana is a beautiful state, however if you are from the Southeast it is also one of those places you would like to visit but not want to live. Green is such an exquisite color, and vitally important to those of us who are normally surrounded by beautiful lush green grass, and trees. We somehow feel a little bare without them. People from Montana would feel quite opposite, they might would be claustrophobic while visiting us here in the Southeast.

Ed drove across country to Roundup, Montana; once he was settled in he then flew my mother, my son Roger and myself. We were to be there, for the remainder of summer.
It was during this time, a friend of Ed’s gave him some heavy cream from their cow milking’s.
Ed was very excited to show my mother and I how to make butter from the heavy cream.

The following morning before leaving for work Ed left us with explicit instructions on how to make the butter. He had put the cream in a large jar, he then gave us a demonstration of how to bump and shake the jar across our legs. He had explained how the consistency of the heavy cream in the jar would change and thicken as it was shaken and turn into beautiful scrumptious butter.

We didn’t realize how much shaking would be involved.
It was of no wonder why Ed had left us with such a task! My mother was the first to engage in this chore, shaking the jar until she was tired, then handed it to me. We passed the jar back and forth until we were slap-bam- wore out. My six-year-old son Roger even had his go.

Somehow, while shaking and passing the jar the lid had become loose and came off. All of the cream pored out onto the floor and made an awful mess. I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. As I recall I did both! We had put so much time and energy into this endeavor. This is not to mention Ed’s excitement of how much he was looking forward and expected the freshly made butter.

Oh My! What were we to do?
While we were cleaning up this horrible accident, my mother said, “Oh Well, all we can do is pray about it.”
So that was just what we did!

As mom was going to wash the jar she stated that there was a little cream left inside and suggested that we give the shaking another go to try and salvage a table spoon or two, at least enough to taste. With that thought in mind we began to shake some more.

As we took turns with the jar, the little cream that was left slowly changed its consistency to butter. We then scraped the butter into a small bowl, then another bowl. We couldn’t believe our eyes; we were able to fill three bowls.

That afternoon when Ed arrived home, he was excited to see our accomplishments and said, “Hum, I wouldn’t have thought it would have made this much butter!”

We three just looked at each other in amazement.
I knew then how the disciples must have felt in giving out the fish and bread.


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