Tuesday, 4 May 2010

Never trust a cow even if she's licking your face

Take my advice. I know what cows are like.

I had a chat over lunch with a friend of mine yesterday at our national leaders event.

And he told me a great story about a time a few years ago when he was wrestling through whether or not God was calling him to celibacy.

He was living at New Creation Farm at the time, one of our community houses in Northamptonshire (which is also a fully operational farm site - hence the name, clearly...). He was asking God whether he should be celibate or not and decides he wants to really get to grips with the issue, so he takes a walk out into one of the Farm's fields and plonks himself down with a book to read.

The book was Seven Silver Rings, which outlines the stories of seven celibates, and he decides that if God is really gonna speak to him it'll be through this book.

So there he is, reading intently on the grass, pondering deeply before God. A quiet moment. The sun breathing warmly on his face, the wind licking over the fields. When a herd of cows approaches.

If you know anything about cows, you'll know full well that they always try to look innocent but are usually up to something (like I say, trust me, I've been there - and more than once, too).

Anyway, they swan right up to him and start sizing him up, sniffing him, bumping up against him, flicking him with their tails, like any normal, self-respecting bunch of cows would do, with someone else on their territory. At first he's liking it (don't worry, he's a Londoner-type) but after not very long at all he's starting to wonder.

"They're big old things, cows," were his words, thick with the London accent that clearly knows what it's talking about, and I found myself unable to argue with him on this point, especially considering the resolute, gangster-like expression on his face when he was telling me - and not to mention, well, the size of cows.

He's just wondering whether to make a run for it or not when one of the more assertive ones starts to lick his face with its bovine tongue. Not generally a pleasant experience, I'd say, but he didn't seem too fazed by it (like I say, he's a Londoner). But then she goes a step further, the cow that she is, and grabs hold of the book he's reading (not with her hoof, may I add, although that would make a great story in itself), yanks it out of his hand and starts to unashamedly munch on it with her bullish, grass-stained, merciless teeth:
"Okay, God, I get the point," he said. "And I never thought about celibacy again after that."
Needless to say, he's now a happily married man with kids, who can tell a story like this with a twinkle in his eye.

Oh, and in case you're worrying, he got away from the cows as well - he's a Londoner - although his book was never seen again.

Not in the same form, anyway.


Aidan said...

That's bloomin hillarious! Nice 1

Andy Crisp said...

Brilliant. God certainly speaks to us in some unusual ways sometimes.

s0upy said...

That he does!

Anonymous said...

I did wonder if it read 'some cow might take the desire for celibacy (God's call) clean out your hands'...

s0upy said...

Hehey. I imagine there are various parallels that could be drawn from this story. :-)

mozzler said...

I licked this on Facebook