He was pretty cute. They all are in the beginning — babyish, affectionate, frisky — then they grow up into big, old animals. Except he didn’t.

He was his mother’s first calf, and she was pretty young. She dropped him off cycle, so he was the only new calf in the herd at the time. All the others were 5-6 months old, eating grass and ready to wean. She didn’t know what to do, and we didn’t interfere soon enough. Forced nursing, subbing in a wet nurse, bottle feeding — these were all later temporary measures, and they worked for the moment. But ultimately he needed to be cared for and run with the herd. He never got there.

This was a hard one to swallow. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t old and at the end of a natural life. He was rejected by his mother and his community, and he died. It is easy to despise the cow, but she was also ignored by the experienced mamas in the herd. They didn’t guide or help out. She was as on her own as the calf was.

As my heart aches over this loss, I don’t want to waste the reminder of our need for each other. It takes a herd, so to speak. As we love each other, we are giving life. Caring for our neighbor is not just “part of life” but life. We need to fulfill our God-given callings personally (like the mama cow), and we need to help others as they fulfill theirs (like the herd should have). Experienced words and helping hands are treasures, and we are the better for them as we both give and take.

Life is not meant to be lived or sustained alone. Let’s let the life we’ve received flow to sustain the lives we touch. It’s a beautiful cycle when it flows. It’s heart-breaking when it doesn’t.