Lessons in trust from Molly the Goat

Since I no longer have a three-hour roundtrip commute, the farm animals who I rarely saw before have come to know me. I recently wrote about the Maricle of Birth Center, If you'll notice in the main photo, you'll see two newborn baby goats, or kids. But the mother, Baby Girl, still has a swollen belly. That's because she was carrying four kids. One and two kids are the norm, three happens occasionally, four is extremely rare. The two still inside her, the largest and the smallest of the four, were stillborn. The two newborns, who arrived shortly before a St. Patrick's Day, we named Fibber and Molly.
Molly won't win any prizes at the State Fair. When she was born, her jaw jutted out and her nose was pushed in, undoubtedly because of the cramped quarters inside her mother for the five-month gestation period. Molly was unable to nurse for the first few days, so my husband Mike and I fed her milk replacer from an eye dropper. While her brother Fibber was a hardy little billy, we gave Molly 50/50 odds of surviving. But survive she did, a small and skittish animal. As you can see by her horns, a fragile animal too. Her imperfections are what endeared her to us.
Molly was born four years ago. It was only this summer that she allowed me to pet her. When she sees me she no longer bolts, although her ears stand straight up to signal her caution. I hold out my index finger and slowly she comes forward, lowering her head so I can stroke the white rosette on her forehead. Sometimes she even lets me run my hand along her side. The act still makes me marvel.
Trust doesn't happen overnight. It takes time and patience. It doesn't matter if the relationship is with another person or a barnyard animal. One of the things I value most is when someone tells me, with words or without, "I trust you." It's what I strive for in all of my relationships.