
Nearly halfway into James Herriot’s paperback titled, “All Creatures Great and Small,” I came across an interesting tidbit of creaturely wisdom. Food for thought. I’ll quote directly.
“In Darrowby, the name Mallock had a ring of doom. It was the graveyard of livestock, farmers ambition, a veterinary surgeon’s hopes. If ever an animal was very ill somebody was bound to say: ‘ I reckon she’ll be off to Mallocks afore long…” At this point sparing the gory details seems best, but only to say when you’ve got a moment or more this book is well worth the read.
Leaving out some of carnage of animal husbandry, the butchers meathooks, bloated beasts, bones, rotting flesh and etcetera for your future perusal. It’s here we rejoin Herriots story of the Dales of Darrowby, England 1931.
“Skulls and dry bones were piled to the roof in places and brown mounds of meat stood in the corners. The smell was bad at any time but when Jeff was boiling up the carcasses it was indescribable.
The Mallock family bungalow stood in the middle of the buildings and strangers could be pardoned if they expected a collection of wizened gnomes to dwell there.
But Jeff was a pink faced, cherubic man in his forties, his wife plump, smiling and comely. Their family ranged from a positively beautiful girl of nineteen to a robust five year old boy. There were eight young Mallocks and they spent their lifetimes playing among tuberous lungs and a vast spectrum of bacteria from Salmonella to Anthrax.”
The sagacity from this young country vet with clear investigative observation came to the unmistakable conclusion that, “They were the healthiest children in the district.” James, you just may be onto something here.
Now, to be thoroughly gracious to our modern medical advancement, maybe a few weeks stint at a country farmstead might be helpful. If not for a superabundance of biological immunities, but also for an injection of fresh resilience to the ever present and never ending microscopic fears of late. Or, maybe just to shed an irritable temperament fueled by the muzzle of city life.
For me, its been good to spend a little time ‘Down on Farm’ so to speak. Thank you Jim Herriot for the reprieve of life at its simplest forms.
But even more, thank you Jesus, the life Giver and Shepherd of our soul for Your restoring grace. The Creator of all creatures, great and small, especially those who follow Jesus are most assuredly heard by the Good Shepherd. And that we, His sheep of higher form, are now being led to the Dales of His eternal green pasture. Then, freed from the complex fears and morbidities of this life and in His fold forever.
“I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep. And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.””
John 10:14-18 ESV
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”
Psalm 23:1-6 ESV