Purple Cow

I never saw a purple cow.
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow
I’d rather see than be one.

Gelett Burgess, 1866-1951

A funny way to begin a blog, I know.  But I’ve been thinking about Grandma Myrtle.  She introduced me to the purple cow in Tillamook, Oregon, circa 1970s.  For many of my little girl years, a feed store along the main drag from her house featured a large purple cow in the window.  We spotted that purple cow in the window EVERY time we drove by.

I know now, thanks to Wikipedia and elsewhere, the history of the purple cow.  A purple cow is different.  It stands out.  It doesn’t follow the crowd.  It thinks for itself, and it’s what I want for myself.  It’s what I want for my kids.

Of course, that can backfire, can’t it?  Standing out from the crowd is sometimes the last thing I want to do.  Here’s the author’s response poem to his original work:

CONFESSION
Ah, yes! I wrote the Purple Cow
I’m Sorry, now, I Wrote it,
But I can Tell you Anyhow
I’ll Kill you if you Quote it.

Gelett BURGESS 1866-1951

I didn’t choose “purplepraise” because of a purple cow, though it did trigger a memory.  The reason I chose “purplepraise” is because I am a daughter of the the King.  Even though most days I don’t feel like it, I am royalty.

1 Peter 2:9 says it skillfully, “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light…”

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