The shadow of twilight descended upon my farm as the sun slipped below the snow-covered hills. Christmas Eve had arrived. I treasure this magical transition from light to darkness on this special night. The Earth quiets with the hush of anticipation shared in the hearts and minds of young and old. We eagerly look for the stable. We prepare to rejoice.
Not this night. The stable was demolished. The lowing cattle were grunting and exhaling in pain and shock. The tidings were grim.
Several hours earlier, nearly 200 feet of shed roof collapsed under the weight of the snow. Six steers were killed immediately. Five more had to be destroyed. More than 30 others who survived had to be sold for slaughter because of their injuries.
I was outside about 1 p.m. when I heard the destruction. A loud crash, followed by several others, lasted nearly 10 seconds. My heart sank even before my eyes confirmed what I already knew. Most of the cattle shed had caved in.
Earlier that week the farm became a temporary home to about 100 cows that came from another farm near Blair. They came because the shed they had called home also collapsed. We had the room outside and the place to feed them.
Our large cattle shed was home to several dozen beef steers belonging to my cousin. Several were trapped beneath the wreckage. Some were mooing in distress. Others were too stunned. Volunteers showed up to help, and the Melrose Fire Department sent a crew to assist.
We first freed the steers still able to walk. The snow-covered crumpled tin was treacherous to walk on. Firefighters used saws to cut the tin around several steers buried under the rubble. To my amazement, some of them got up and appeared unharmed as they walked away. Others had walked their last.
By the time we finished, I missed the Christmas Eve church service. I was tired. My back ached, my fingers were numb from the cold and my clothes were wet. It was a miserable and horrific way to spend a holiday. I was certainly not in the Christmas spirit.
Later that night I tried to put my mind at rest. It was awful what happened. I worried about my cousin, who has had a tough couple of years.
But sometimes the worst gives birth to our best. In our time of need, neighbors, friends and relatives showed up. Among them were four members of the family that had just lost their own shed. They all gave the gift of their time without expecting anything in return.
We were, in fact, blessed. A farmer in the state had been killed a few weeks ago when a shed collapsed on him. No one here was injured. Sheds can be rebuilt. Animals can be replaced.
In the midst of the twisted tin, splintered trusses and the carnage of the red-stained snow, the spirit of Christmas had indeed arrived.
I just didn’t know it at the time. I was looking in the wrong stable.
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