For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord. —Isaiah 55:8 (RSV)
As a physician, sometimes I learn about life and death from unexpected sources, but the last place I expected to find wisdom was from a scatterbrained, five-month-old colt named Duobs.
One morning, Duobs’ mother, an apparently healthy mare, suddenly dropped dead in the pasture. I was surprised to find her a few hours later because Duobs had not uttered a sound of protest.
A few weeks before, when temporarily separated from her, he had run along the fence, bleating like a lost sheep, banging against the rails to get back to his mother. But now he lay quietly beside her.
When I approached, he stood up, looked down at his mother’s still body and then trotted to me for the walk back to the barn.
Perhaps I am reading too much into it, but I saw respect, dignity, resignation without despair and a practical acceptance of God’s order of things in that little foal as he trotted away. He understood, perhaps better than I, God’s plan.
