Rest in Peace, Larry-the-llama.
You fought so hard. It was my deep privilege to spend the past week caring for you around the clock. Our entire family helped dispensing meds, giving you shots and electrolytes, hand-feeding you, praying for you and cheering you on.
We loved you so very much, buddy. You have no idea how much I’m going to miss your goofy smile and your lopsided gallop toward me whenever I step into the pasture.
As Luke and I waited for the vet this morning, we sat with you and stroked your head. I played music and the song, “Find You Here” started to play on my Pandora station. In the midst of such sorrow, it was a sweet gift to listen to the poignant lyrics. The words served as a reminder that, even though we didn’t get our llama miracle, God was right there with us in the little barn. He didn’t leave us there alone; sitting on the hay, my tears steadily falling on your head. The lyrics, “you can see my pain and it breaks your heart” felt like a Divine message for my own aching heart.
Farm life can be both beautiful and brutal. Today, is certainly one of the hard days. And, while I know there is joy to come, I am going to sit in the grief for a bit.
A dear friend (who is acutely familiar with this farm life) shared this wisdom with me: “Being His means holding all of it – the miracles and the pain – and still raising our hands and saying, I don’t understand it and I wanted a different chapter, but I trust that you are still good.”
Oh, friends. I can’t thank you all enough for loving our Larry from afar. You’ve prayed and encouraged and rooted for our guy. I’ve been blown away by your kindness and compassion. I have hesitated typing these words today because while our family mourns and cries and talks through this hard loss, I know that so many of you are waiting for a Larry update and I so desperately wanted to have different news. He was a good one to love and he was loved until the end.