Not Like the Others

Well, at this rate, it's safe to say blogs don't write themselves.

Growing up, we had a full-sized Jersey named Sookie. Her milk was rich, creamy, and unforgettable—especially when my mom would pour the fresh cream over just-picked berries. Yum. There’s something grounding about those memories: early mornings, the rhythm of the farm, the comfort of routine. So, in my quest to reconnect with my roots, I decided to bring a Jersey milk cow back into my life.

This time, though, in the spirit of my miniature cattle company, I went with a miniature Jersey. She’s pint-sized but full of personality, and while she fits in with the herd—well, sort of—she’s definitely her own cow.

That got me thinking (which, as my dad would say, is always a little dangerous). He usually ends up with a longer to-do list whenever I get an idea.

I started noticing how different she is from the others—not just in her sleek coat and petite frame, but in her personality. She just likes different things. If I have treats in my pocket, she’ll try to reach them with her tongue, determined to find every last crumb. She wants to see, smell, and lick my hands just to make sure nothing’s been missed. When I’m out in the pasture, she follows closely behind me. Some of the others do these things too, but not all.

It made me wonder: how well do I fit in? How do I fit in with other farmers, other mothers, grandmothers, daughters? You get the point. How do I fit in the world—and how does the world see me? Can I build this farm and give it what it needs to grow? Do I even actually know what I’m doing? What if I fail. What then?

Then my mind shifted.

I started thinking about my Savior—how I try to follow Him closely, yet how easily I get sidetracked and distracted. I need reminders of what truly matters. And sometimes, those reminders come in unexpected ways. I know that with His help, I can do this!

Jersey Girl reminded me that it’s okay not to go along with the herd. It’s okay to be different, to walk a unique path, to be my own person. Being different isn’t a flaw—it’s a gift. I may not run this farm the same way others do, and that’s okay. I can find what works for me. I’m thankful for the gentle nudge she gave me to embrace that truth.