Hand in a pickle jar

"I got my hand in a pickle jar and I can't get one out!" that's what she said at one point as she worked to get the piglet out. 

That piglet was stuck. The hips making its exit nearly impossible. And little Raye was just trying for all she was worth to free it. She had been at it close to thirty minutes at that point. And time was ticking. 

The mama, Ginger, is a smaller knee-high pig and one of Raye's favorites. She's part of the gang led by Raye that scrambles over the farm, eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and looks for and finds adventure wherever they go. Ginger though was in some serious trouble and Raye having grown up in the barn knew the severity of the situation. 

When it was clear our hands were too big and we turned to Raye we saw her coat was off and her sleeves already up. What we also saw was somewhere through these years our little peanut had grown up and the face we saw covered with resolve was no longer a chubby-cheeked cutie, but that of a capable, grown-up, young lady. 

She dropped to her knees in the straw, spoke softly to Ginger, and got straight to business. "I need Ginger alive, I need live piglets, do you hear me, Heaven? Whatever I ask in Jesus's name! " her prayers were not those of a child's but of maturity of faith. She continued "Thank you for keeping her alive, thank you for all the piglets we are about to have". 

Typically just a little assistance is needed. A twist here and a tug there and piglets come sailing out. Not so this time. As Raye worked she was tossed to and fro as Ginger rolled and repositioned. Her back scraping the wooden slats of the stall. Her arm squeezed with every contraction. At times she was twisted up like a pretzel,  trying to find the best way "in" so she could grip the piglet and pull. Dad worked to keep sharp mama pig hooves from reaching Raye's face and keep her from being kicked by positioning himself between them. 

"I --got-- it!!! I-- have-- it!!!" littered with grunting and groans. "Dang it!!! No! Stupid piglet, no no no! " and disappointment would fill her voice as it slipped again out of her grasp and deeper into the womb. She would stop short, throw her head back growl out an "Aghhhhhh! " before saying "Okay, here we go" and try again. This scene basically played out on repeat. The piglet just wouldn't come through. 

"Dang it Dad!" sheer frustration breaking through her voice  "Give me space. I can't do this with you all up in my face!"  And with that, she flipped off his hat whose brim had bumped her a time too many as she worked. She was a girl in full control of her situation and knew exactly what she needed to continue and she knew each passing minute was less likely to bring out a live piglet. 

Her deep breaths and sighs would fill the air. Despite the cold, sweat mixed with straw, and gunk and her blond hair matted against her face. She would rest up against Gingers behind with her arm shoulder-deep inside. And that is when she would grow tender. "Oh Sweetie, we can do this. You're okay Gingie, good girl". Ginger would answer her with grunts and snorts and together they would gear up for another round and another and another in what felt to be hours of trying. 

"I am gonna lip you like a bass! You little... just get out of there!!!" said through clenched teeth as she held the piglet by the lower lip hoping to have enough grip to bring it forward. "Ouch! It bit me, the little jerk. It bit me!!!". And yes, they bite with their razor-sharp little teeth even while still inside mama. It didn't stop her though. She had the hold she needed and she wasn't letting go!

She was using every bit of strength in her pint-sized self to pull that piglet forward. "Mom grab my back and pull". Her thinking was since she wasn't physically strong enough maybe if mom got behind her and pulled her while she refused to let go it may just work. It was good in theory. Dad finally got behind her wrapped his arms around her and helped. And while he didn't do much, if any, actual tugging it helped in that it bolstered her again. Strengthening the resolve that had just about dissolved at this point. "I'm... not... letting go..."

"Feeet, I see feeeeeeet"! And there they were. Kicking, living feet! "Ahhhh look at that tail! Tail! Tail!"  A sound rose from within her that's hard to describe. It wasn't a scream or a yell really. It was more a collection of the emotions of the last hour. Frustration. Anger. Fear. Stubbornness. The piglet's tail flicking with the same tempo. And she pulled that last pull with the same pulsing of raw emotion. 

And then there he was. A huge brute of a baby lying in the straw, gurgling and gasping those beautiful first breaths. "Get a towel. Hand me a towel" as she scooped him up. She fell back against the wall as tears began pooling in those beautiful blue eyes. Giggles mixing with sobs. Tears mixing with mud. Her face falling into his as she kissed him and cleaned him. "Thank you God, thank you God" she whispered. "You're okay little guy, you're okay"

And he was. Because he happened to be born on the farm that's home to FarmHer Raye. The little girl raised in a barn with the tenacity to do whatever it is that's needed to get the job done.  The one filled overflowing with light and love. One who takes the Lord at his word to not leave her. The little girl so filled with gravel, grit, and grace that she doesn't know anything different than giving life her all.

--------------------------------