It was only a phase...

I think one of the hardest aspects of leaving the farm is letting go of my image that was defined by it.

Not long ago I was in the feed store browsing the shelves, and I realized in a moment that of all of the familiar products, I would have need of none in this new life, on my new journey.

All of the knowledge, competence and confidence that related to the farm are no longer part of my reality. It no longer matters that I can diagnose and treat a myriad of veterinary ailments… that I can throw, worm, vaccinate and trim a flock of sheep in an afternoon…or manage acres of land for rotational grazing…stack hay or run a line of fence...turn and deliver a malpresentation…or tube and resuscitate a lamb…It is no longer part of my life…

Where do I put the ribbons, awards and recognitions for someone I no longer am?

Most of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis have never known this side of me…and couldn’t even begin to imagine me this way. They know only a small part of who I am…and very little of who I have been. In fact, our knowledge of others is so situational…we can hardly say we know another at all.

Fundamentally, I think we all long to be known…not just in part…but wholly…for someone to know and hold our complete history – all of our gifts, our grief, our talent and trials. We seek approval; validation for all that is good within us. But for most, the risk is too great. Revealing ourselves to another person, wholly, leaves us open to rejection – or worse – condemnation, because not all that is in us is good. So we guard…and isolate…and along with the feeling of being unknown, we are filled with loneliness and despair. It is at times like these that I am so grateful for my faith. It doesn’t matter who I was, what images of me I have lived and let go of. No part of me or my experience has been lost. There is Someone who knows me, wholly, and loves me unconditionally, and always has.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart for my holy purpose. Jeremiah 1:5

O LORD, you have examined my heart and know everything about me…You know my thoughts…You know everything I do… Psalm 139:1-4

There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, who walk not according to the flesh. Romans 8:1

It has taken me a lifetime to realize that my image, in and of myself has no significance. What this world needs, what draws others to me is not me, my competence, my interests, or my aptitudes…none of which come from me. They are only phases I go through...What draws others to me is the hope they see in me…the light reflected from me, that is Christ in me.

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. Galatians 2:20

I can’t allow myself to be defined by the limited nature of another person or how others have experienced me - my image - or by the limits I would place on myself because of my experiences. Some know me as a child, a mother, a teacher, a customer, an athlete, a woman, a social worker, a wife, a shepherdess, a daughter, a dancer, a neighbor, a conference presenter, a student, a victim, a stranger, a patient, a trainer, a writer…By how many different limited images am I known…defined? Each is only a facet of me…designed not to be a representation of the person I am…but a prism to reflect the light that is in me.

As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him - you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood. 1 Peter 2:4,5

I have only one identity…and that is the light I reflect, regardless of the image it is reflected through. Letting go of an image is not a loss…it is a change that allows the light within me to be reflected from a different angle. The more facets that reflect the light, the more brilliant the reflection. The world does not need to see me. I am already seen and approved by one who knows me. Like the moon…my image is nothing but a phase...ever changing...I am nothing to the world around me…invisible…unless I reflect a greater light.

Once you had no identity as a people; now you are God's people. 1 Peter 2:10

I have always loved doing my farm chores late at night, and delighting in the changes of the moon. Each phase holds its own beauty. Some nights the light reflected is dim...some nights there is no moon to be seen at all...but I know that it is there. I especially love the nights when the moon is so bright, it is like daylight. It astounds me that all men the world over, see the same moon, no matter where they are, no matter what they are experiencing...and that that one moon reflects only one light...night after night - ever changing...yet always the same.

Even so let your light shine before men; that they may see your good deeds, and glorify your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:16

Dancing with God

Now,
when I see the word “Guidance”

I always see “dance” at the end…

Doing God’s will is a lot like dancing.

A dance is always an invitation,
and an acceptance.
It cannot be forced,
and still be a dance.

In dancing, there is only one that leads…
if both partners try to lead,
nothing feels right.
The movement is a struggle;
it doesn’t meld with the music,
everything is uncomfortable,
out of step, and awkward.
When one partner yields to the other,
both bodies appear to flow effortlessly.
The lead is cued gently, from one to the other,
with a barely perceptible touch to the back,
or a small shift in direction,
a turn of the head.
It is as if the two become one body,
the movement is smooth and beautiful,
perfect synchrony one with the other,
in step to the cadence of the music.

To dance takes complete surrender,
willingness and attentiveness from one partner,
and gentle guidance and skill from the other,
both fully present and aware.
One hears the music,
the other reflects the music that is heard.
One moves,
the other responds.

For the one who leads,
there is such pleasure in knowing that his partner will be
right where he wants her to be,
just where he expects her to be,
ready for the next step.

Sometimes he leads her into dizzying spins,
or breathless flips,
in that moment,
she doesn't know where she is,
or where he is,
but can trust that he knows exactly where they are,
and will bring her out,
on time,
in perfect step with him again.

There are times when he will travel backwards,
and she has a glimpse of where they are going,
she can see what lies ahead,
and then suddenly a reverse,
and she sees nothing but him,
and where they have already passed
and must travel blind to the new direction.
The music is loud,
the light is dim,
her senses aren't sufficient to navigate
he is her guide,
and on him alone she must focus.

To dance,
is to allow myself to be guided.
In the word “Guidance”,
the “G” can represent God,
followed by “U” and “I.”
God, you and I dance.
Funny thing about dancing,
with the right partner,
I don't even have to like the song
to enjoy the dance...

Just as in dancing,
as I am willing to follow another’s lead,
I yield myself to God’s will.
His gentle guidance,
and my total surrender,
will help me transcend any circumstance in life
with the joy experienced in dancing with the perfect partner.


A friend gave the beginnings of this to me...and I absolutely loved it (Thank You for the inspiration, Dani...I took a few liberties with it...a lot of liberties :) and made it my own...)

The animals are almost all sold...winter is here. So much in my life has changed...
I have been led gently along a new path, remembering who I was, and becoming the new person God would have me to be. Along the way, I have rediscovered dancing. Before I married, I was a ballroom dance instructor and a competitive dancer. For fifteen years, I have not danced. I stopped listening to the music that made me long to dance. But God is playing a new song...and He has invited me to dance. The song is unfamiliar, and I'm not even sure whether I like it - or not. One thing I do know, I still love to dance, and there is joy in dancing with the Perfect Partner.

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.
You have taken away my clothes of mourning
and clothed me with joy,
that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever! Psalm 30:11,12

What is written to me...

I don’t know what brings a person to want to know what is in the mind of another. Many of you have come to this blog because you enjoy the stories of sheep and rural life. Some have been entertained, others inspired. I didn’t want these writings to be intimate. I felt protected as long as I could write about sheep – or something outside of me. And now I feel compelled to continue writing, without the veil of my sheep. I feel vulnerable. Because everything is changing. The farm will be no more. Or at least, no longer as I knew it.

Beginning today – I am the sheep. He is my Shepherd. I will understand if for some, if this intimacy means parting ways, and wish you well on your journey. May you continue to find your heart’s desire, and may you always have a voice to guide you. For those that choose to stay…I hope you find something of value in my experience that speaks to your heart.

Shepherding has made me a different person. Not only have I learned what it is to be a shepherd, I have learned what it is to have a Shepherd. That there is no life without one. So many can learn from the text, but not me. I have always needed to take the field trip, the rugged path…with God, my patient guide, the hand that holds tightly to mine as I trip along beside Him. He is my Shepherd. If you could see me, you would see scraped knees, torn shirt sleeves and a lot of dust to mark the journey I have taken to be where I am. You would know that there are many times along the way that I have been carried as a lamb in His arms, because I lacked the strength to walk alone. This faith was not gained from a moral story, this is not book knowledge.

Many who live outside of faith are under the false impression that faith brings an absence of suffering - that knowing what is good and right somehow protects us from what is bad or wrong. It doesn’t. In fact, the knowledge of how things should be makes us suffer more when they aren’t. What faith does is give us hope and comfort in suffering. We know that whatever pain we suffer is not unbearable, because we do not bear it alone. We are sustained by hope, and promises that are not of this world, and so cannot be taken from us.

My farm and my sheep have been my peace, my fulfillment, despite my personal circumstances. A substitute for what should have been. A gift from a loving God to my hurting heart. In my personal life there are issues of abandonment, rejection, betrayal, neglect and abuse. In caring for my sheep, I have learned how tenderly God has cared for me, and ministered to me regardless of what appeared to be happening. He did this to bring me to this point where seasons change. In the seasons of the shepherd, the barn is stripped clean in the summer; new life is conceived in the fall; winter shelters, as that new life takes shape in hidden places growing within another; and in the spring, a new life is born into the freedom of itself. The seasons are no longer my farm. They are me.

The farm and all of my animals are for sale. My family is dividing. It feels like I am losing everything that I have held on to…at the hands of the one who hurt me. It appears that it won’t end until all is destroyed. Despite the appearances, in my heart I know that though this may be the reality I am facing, it is not the truth. What I hold in my heart cannot be destroyed. Either I do, or I don’t trust God. This is not His Promised Land. This is captivity. Why would I cling to what I have, and miss what He has for me? Has He ever been anything but good to me? In this world we see a shadow of things to come. We experience pain and loss, but through them He reveals the fulfillment of His promises, the goodness of His love. And has He not lovingly prepared me for this moment? As I look back over the blogs, I can see His hands of love…his writing on my heart…His strength for this moment in time.

I can’t say I have ever enjoyed writing these blogs. Quite the contrary. Each represents a personal struggle within me to grasp a truth, an insight, or a teaching from the heart of God. Many struggles have gone unwritten…too difficult to put into words. My shepherding experience has transformed me. It has drawn me closer to the heart of God than anything in life I have ever experienced. I am grateful. Looking back, each of these blogs is prophetic. Each one holds a truth that sustains me now, that has shaped me into the person I am today, preparing me for the path ahead.

Glancing through the things I had written, I was amazed at what struck me afresh…as though I hadn’t written them, but that they had been written to me.

I started where I began to write…

First Lamb of 2008: In the poem of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow…that grief must have its way…

Good Morning to Ewe: being reminded that God is with me wherever I am…and that as great as my concern is for my sheep…God’s concern for me is greater.

A New Generation: sometimes the thing we need to do is the very thing we don’t want to do. The Shepherd is there in those times, to help and guide us.

Transitions: I have come to know that the Shepherd is at work on my behalf in ways I cannot see…that nothing I experience is unnoticed by Him, and all is filtered through His hands of love for me…transition is the most dangerous time…it must occur slowly…according to my condition and not my desire…I want to move forward…but the timing is not up to me…A Good Shepherd protects the me from myself…sets limits…fighting against those limits is fighting against the protection that sustains me.

New Life: in times of struggle, what is needed most is hope…there is justice in this world, but we don’t always understand it…vengeance does not lessen your suffering, it increases the suffering in the world…I wish I didn’t have to let go…there is nothing we can hold on earth…when we let go, God takes hold…we can trust Him

Brooding: am I brooding over pointless pursuits? …if it has no promise of life…it must be let go…

Blood Brothers: conflict and pain do not imply the absence of the Shepherd…sometimes they are necessary to establish right position…

Notso: I need to recognize when enough is enough…some things are beyond my control…and some things die

What is Best: my life was not meant to be out of balance…when one thing dominates, other things suffer…what is good can choke out what is best…when we refuse to choose, we are only a half-hearted servant of the cause…we need to have enough courage to choose…we need empty places to grow…

Feed My Sheep: I feel called out from my flock into His…to minister to His flock as tenderly and wholly as I did mine…

Sheep Shells: the things we cling to in this life are a hindrance, and in order to experience the life we’re intended to live, in freedom, we must let them go…in that particular blog, I was referring to sin – but now I see it so much larger. It isn’t just sin and shame we cling to - we cling to our identities, our possessions…things of no lasting significance…I found myself in trying circumstances…reduced to the most pathetic conditions…having forgotten completely what it felt like to move freely…and holding on…choking, but not wanting to submit to the change that would release me…

Redemption: lives can be transformed…brokenness can become a blessing in the lives of others…

Flock Mentality: I am the sheep that remains faithful…in pleasure and pain…finding comfort and security in the presence Shepherd alone

What sees me through? He does. It says in Scripture:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD, “ They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and death shall be no more, neither shall there be anguish nor grief nor pain, for the old conditions and the old order of things have passed away. Revelation 21:4

Revelation is a book of prophecy…promises for the future…if in this world we see a shadow of things to come, surely He is revealing this promise even now…in my life, in these circumstances. If one day He can remove all sorrow, He can remove this sorrow…but even if He doesn’t, he has promised me good. And I will remain faithful.

Following up...

I have had quite a response to the four types of sheep blog, and have really enjoyed them! Thank you for sharing with me...Something in me says I need to revisit that blog...Many have said they are a "mix" or that they stray...I need to say as far as being a straying sheep...it is the nature of sheep. They are easily distracted. The Shepherd knows it, and loves them despite themselves. Regardless of the mess they find themselves in, He always takes them back, lovingly, though sometimes with consequences - not necessarily imposed by the Shepherd...just the hazards of straying. I can admit that I am a hedonist by nature...but remind myself daily that I choose to be faithful...Don't think it ever just is, that we arrive...it is a constant choice to follow, and an inevitable struggle.

When we look at ourselves through the eyes of the world, we shame and condemn ourselves because we have not arrived. We must understand that the choice to be faithful is not second nature. We must never forget than in Him there is no condemnation...

I can't thank you enough for all of the encouragement. I am feeling stronger. The most beautiful part of the entire thing (illness) is the joy that I have felt, regardless of the circumstances, in the unknown...which was certainly my Spirit being buoyed by prayer! I send my heartfelt thanks to all who have been concerned...

Flock Mentality

While it would seem that sheep are shepherded as a flock, nothing could be further from the truth. Within the flock are distinct personalities…each sheep is unique, with its own set of challenges to the shepherd. Over time, I have come to notice four broad categories of sheep in my personal flock.

There are the sheep that refuse to draw near…no amount of enticement will bring them in. These are the “lost sheep,” the ones that would remain outside of the fold at night, given the chance. They need to be sought and driven to safety. Despite my best efforts, they have difficulty trusting that my care is altruistic, preferring to rely on their own instincts. The want no good thing if it threatens their independence. They are the fringe observers. Feeling no security, their fear leaves them exposed. Sadly, these are the sheep that are most nervous, worried, stressed and prone to panic. The world to them is suspect, there is no safe harbor, and no rest.

Other sheep in my flock can be lured to approach if the benefit is too strong to resist. These are my hedonists. Molasses, corn, oats and barley (called “wet cob”) is their weakness. They are captivated by the rattle of a coffee can. It makes no difference who holds the can – or where they are led by the can – only that they taste the reward. These sheep are drawn by greed and desire. There is no relationship between them and the bearer of the can, no concern about the intent – good or evil – as long as their desire is met. These sheep are so easily ensnared…they will come just as eagerly to a can of rattling rocks as they do cob. They are not sensitive enough to discern the difference until they are manipulated and deceived. Their appetites are never fully satisfied, and so they are controlled by them.

Then there are the obedient sheep. They are content to be distant from me, doing whatever they please unless they are asked to do otherwise. There is no real relationship between us. They exist as confident members of the flock, complacent, believing that unless they are told otherwise, all is well. They live their lives independent of me, resigned, unless I call them near. They respond dutifully to a voice familiar, assured that they are particularly wanted. They know that the shepherd is good. Their chief desire is approval, and will follow their own way unless a demand is made and approval is guaranteed.

Lastly, the faithful. These are the sheep that have no other desire than to be in my presence. They are confident that all of their needs will be satisfied by me. They are ever-watchful for my appearance. It matters little, my purpose in the barn or pasture – wherever I am and whatever I am doing, they desire my companionship. Regardless of the circumstances or experience, they have complete confidence in my affection towards them. They seek a relationship. Whether I pat them or praise them, or simply go about my business, they are content to be with me. These are my fearless sheep. They go about their days in quiet assurance and peace. They seek nothing for themselves, confident in the provision made for them.

Of course, I love all of my sheep, whether they frustrate or flatter me. I make every effort to reassure the frightened ones, to satisfy the greedy ones, and to approve the obedient ones. But my joy is the faithful ones.

A few years ago, I was in a Bible study with the topic of “Experiencing God.” It was a good study, though I found it difficult to commit to. I was drawn away by my responsibilities during lambing…and to be honest, complete distraction. I didn’t find the study engaging, as I experience God in everything that I do. The question that nettled me was how God was experiencing me…

I have an affinity for Bible verses that reference sheep, and shepherding, “Sheep Theology.” When the text was written, readers were well-acquainted with sheep. Today, much of the meaning is lost, as shepherding is no longer a common pursuit. For me, any reference to sheep or shepherding speaks volumes, and gives an intimacy to my understanding of a passage that no other explanation could.

A particular favorite is Psalm 100:3-5 (NIV):
Know that the LORD is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.

Knowing how sheep are, the question begs to be answered…
Which sheep am I?
How does God experience me?

For the lost, rest assured that you are sought after.

Luke 15:4-7 "Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
2 Peter 3:9 "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance."

For the hedonist, there is a way to find satisfaction.

John 4:14 "Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst."

And the obedient, you can cease striving. You have been approved.

Ephesians 2:8,9 "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast."

If you long to be among the faithful, pursue Him.

Hebrews 11:5-7 "And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him."

Regardless of which sheep you find yourself to be, there is a Shepherd who cares for you, that loves you tenderly, and seeks the highest and best for you. He wants to keep you in the safety of His fold, calm your fear and satisfy your heart. Will you allow Him to?

Feed My Sheep

Over the last few weeks, I have learned firsthand the intimacy and urgency of the request “If you love me…feed my sheep” made by Jesus to his disciple, Peter, in the Gospels of Matthew and John. Circumstances of health have left me unable to watch over my flock for a time, and I have had to entrust them to another’s care.

To one who is not a shepherd, “Feed my sheep” seems like a simple request to make sure their stomachs are full…but it is so much more. The significance of this humble request is more explicitly revealed in Ezekiel, chapter 34. Feeding sheep entails: caring for the weak, binding the wounded, seeking the lost, protecting them, defending them, assuring their peace of mind, visiting them, watching over them, guiding them, folding them (keeping the flock together) and managing them with tenderness and kindness. You see, “feeding” does not just mean to satisfy their physical hunger – but all of their needs. To meet all of their needs, you must know them, intimately.

Feeding sheep cannot be accomplished as a daily chore – it is an ongoing labor of love. In John, chapter 10 verse 13, Jesus said that a hired man has no concern for the sheep; he will abandon them when he sees a wolf approach. By contrast, the good shepherd will lay down his life for them. In biblical days, a shepherd was usually the youngest of the household, and the sheep did not belong to him. He shepherded out of love, loyalty and obedience to his father. How well he fulfilled this duty was a measure of his integrity, and determined the survival and success of his family. Shepherding was not a casual task, it was a sacred trust.

What would make sheep so valuable that a shepherd would give his life for them? In the Old Testament, sheep were not only a family’s sustenance, their source of food, milk and clothing, but of means of reconciliation with God through sacrifice. A sheep provided for both their physical and spiritual needs.

Since sheep have no means of defending themselves, a shepherd is responsible for them day and night. Though equipped with a rod, the most important aspect of his success was intimate acquaintance – love. The shepherd knows his sheep, and the sheep know him. They will not follow a stranger. How many times do we miss the key word in that passage? “Follow.” A shepherd doesn’t drive his sheep. A dog drives sheep. A shepherd calls sheep – and recognizing his voice - they follow. A rod requires contact with an individual sheep (or predator) where a voice can carry across the distance to move an entire flock away from danger. A stranger simply cannot step in and fill the shepherd’s role without becoming as familiar to the sheep as the shepherd. You cannot shepherd without love and trust.

Yesterday I was able to visit my sheep. Though they had food to eat, they were starving. They were hungry for my voice, my touch, my concern, my leading. Having a stranger meet their physical needs had not satisfied them. I realized that asking someone to feed my sheep in my absence is asking them to love my sheep as I love them…to be not the person they are, but who I am for my flock.

It gives me great pause to consider that in first epistle of Peter, chapter 5 verse 2, we are told to “Care for the flock of God entrusted to (us). Watch over it willingly, not grudgingly – not for what (we) will get out of it, but because we are eager to serve God…so that when the head Shepherd returns…”

I have not just been given my flock to care for in this life, but I have been entrusted to feed my Father's sheep.

For the people placed around me, how accurate of a reflection am I of Christ and his care for them? Will I have been a stranger or a shepherd in his absence? If the head Shepherd were to return to his flock, would he find his sheep scattered and hungry?

“Feed my sheep.” It seems like a humble request…but it is a sacred trust, far more demanding and noble than we imagine, and impossible to do without surrendering ourselves and conforming to his likeness...Do we love him enough?

Feed My Sheep
by David Humpal

I would give my all to God
My life is in God’s hands
I would do a mighty work
Across the foreign lands
But God gently said to me
Feed my lambs

If God asked to give to him
My wealth or riches deep
I’d obey his every wish
Each promise I would keep
But God calmly said to me
Tend my sheep

Every mountain I would climb
However high or steep
Every canyon I would cross
However wide or deep
But God softly said to me
Feed my sheep


Your prayers during this time would be greatly appreciated. Of course a return to health would be a blessing, but however he chooses to glorify Himself in my life, I would pray to be His humble servant.

Redemption

There are many seasons on the farm – some more picturesque and romantic than others. If asked to describe a farm, what comes to your mind?
Is it a spring scene with the fields newly planted, frolicking baby animals, and green splendor? Or do you see the culmination at harvest with the hay, fresh-mown and baled in the fields, trees laden with fruit and a lush garden with bountiful produce? Very few people picture what happens between the spring and harvest. Labor. Building, preparing, repairing. It is neither picturesque nor romantic. It is dirty and exhausting, and in the case of the task at hand – aromatic – in the worst way.

This week I stripped the barn. As the shepherd, the task falls to me. No one else will even come near. There is not one member of my family, nor a person for hire willing to lend a hand. To stand in the barn before the work begins, you would be oblivious to what lies beneath the soft, sweet-smelling straw. A few inches below the surface the litter has begun to decompose…a few inches below that, it is fully rancid. During the coldest months, the heat from the decomposition keeps the floor of the barn warm for the sheep, but in the summer, the same heat becomes unbearable. Stripping the barn removes between twelve and eighteen inches of the most pungent, putrid filth - the stench is so rank it defies description or imagination - to the cool, sweet soil beneath.

I stood leaning on the pitchfork, overwhelmed and weak from the odor. I asked God for another metaphor to distract me enough to get me through it. Something beyond the role of the Shepherd, and unconditional love, that would raise mucking manure in the sweltering July heat to a sublime meditation. God is faithful to instruct…

Why was I doing what I was doing? For the love of the sheep, to give them a reprieve from the heat, and prepare the barn for winter…No. Beyond that. Beyond the sheep, beyond the barn, beyond the stink. What am I holding? See it not for what it was – manure - or what it is – rot…but what will it be when it is finished? At this point I clearly saw the transformed and finished product – the compost heap. In the end this offensive rot becomes the harvest. There could be no harvest without it…the crop would starve. In the depths, in the undisturbed dark of the barn it is rot. To apply it directly to something green and growing would kill the plant – it is too “hot”. But if it is brought to light and exposed, turned and exposed, it is transformed to one of the most life-giving substances on earth – fertile compost – rich soil - tilth. What was filth and decay is redeemed.

Like the floor of the barn, our outward appearance is little indication of what lies beneath. And what lies beneath is decay, which leads to death. It can be transformed to something life-giving! Christ is able to redeem even our worst attributes – our greatest failures - those that permeate us to the core with filth and shame, when we turn to him in faith. Allowing that transformation is hard. It means surrendering to light that which has been hidden in darkness. But our transformation can bring nourishment rather than rot. When we are so broken we allow ourselves to be changed –that very brokenness becomes a blessing in the lives around us. There is no greater witness to redemption than a transformed life.

There are so many scriptural references that can be used here, but I like Ephesians 5:1-20 and these verses in particular...

"For though your hearts were once full of darkness, now you are full of light from the Lord, and your behavior should show it! For this light within you produces only what is good and right and true..." Ephesians 5:8,9

What is best...

I weeded the garden today. It was an arduous task. Not simply because of the weeds that have staked a claim in every inch of unoccupied soil after the blessed rains – but because of all of the good plants. Weeds are easy enough to identify and mark as unwanted. It is the “good plants” or the volunteers, as my grandma called them, which try me. A volunteer is a plant that regenerates the following year that wasn’t intentionally sown. They’re quite random, appearing in places most unsuitable. Last year we had a bountiful crop of tomatoes. It was beyond bountiful – it was overabundant. We could not eat, preserve or gift them fast enough. As a result, some of the fruit fell to the ground. The soil was tilled - the seed was scattered – and now there are volunteers throughout the garden.

Hundreds of beautiful tomato plants are growing in the rows of beans, peas, carrots, onions, squash. They had grown so well that I could no longer discern what was planted through the tomatoes. Again they flourished, this time to the detriment of everything else I planted. You see, I had already given half of my garden to planting tomatoes…and with the help of my volunteers, the entire plot had been overtaken. Up until today, I left them there. Because a tomato plant is a good plant. I didn’t have the heart to uproot it. But my garden was meant to be more than tomatoes, even though tomatoes are good. As I carefully weeded around the neat rows and the random tomatoes, I remembered a verse of scripture about choosing what is best. You see, keeping everything good in my garden was choking out what was best. In a row of carrots, carrots are best, no matter how good a tomato might be. When I commit to planting carrots, my aim should be to harvest carrots.

This is not the first time I have encountered this lesson on the farm. At one time we kept both Soay and Icelandic sheep. I loved them both. Both had qualities that not only made them suitable, but endearing to me. I did not want to ask the question “which is best?” because I did not want to choose. Keeping them both cost me dearly. The flocks could run together for the most part of the year, but breeding season presented many challenges, which I could have avoided entirely, had I made a choice. As does happen, one of my best rams escaped his pen, and covered ewes that had not been assigned to him. Not just any ewes. The Grand Champion ewes, which were to have been bred to the Grand Champion ram. Rather than the outstanding lambs we anticipated, we reaped a harvest of crossbred lambs, as the ram was not only unassigned, he was not the same breed as the ewes. The lambs are good lambs, but they are not a faithful representation of either breed. They are not authentic. They can never be the best for the purposes their parents were bred for. The same is true of us when we refuse to choose…we are only a half-hearted servant of either cause.

Making a choice is always difficult, for when we commit to one thing, we must, at the same time, say no to the other options – even if they are good. It is only by honoring a commitment in this way, that we can truly have what is best. So often in life, we are overwhelmed as my garden was, by allowing everything that is good, rather than focusing what is best. Good things clutter up our lives and our calendars – leaving little time or energy for that which is best. We soon find ourselves inadequate to fulfill any of the tasks set before us. Our limited energy and resources are spread so thin, that nothing we do is done well. No one is well-served when we try to have it all or be it all. We become discouraged…all because we lacked the courage to make a choice.

There are many decisions before us in a day. So many questions and opportunities…but we should not be asking ourselves “is this a good thing?” but rather, “is this best?” Is this the best of what is available to me now? Is this the best time, or would it be better to wait? Is this the best place, or should it be elsewhere? Is this the best use of my time, or is there something else I should be giving myself to? Is this the best use of my talent? Is this the best way to say what needs to be said? We must have the courage to commit to what is best, and focus our energies on those things...

With regret, I have pulled and placed my lovely volunteers on the compost pile. Choosing is not easy. Now there are empty spaces between the rows and between the plants. Healthy empty spaces that give them room to grow, seek the sun, extend their roots and draw nourishment from the unobstructed soil around them. Restful places. These empty places will be covered with mulch to protect them, so that nothing takes root there to draw away from or overshadow the young plants.

In order for us to be our best, we need to do the same with the cares and preoccupations of this world. What do you aim to harvest from this life? What have you committed to?

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ--to the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11

Notso...

You always hope that if you have an audience for lambing, everything will go smoothly: an easy delivery,
a vigorous lamb, an attentive mother.
After all – Icelandic sheep are famous for it!

But it was not so this weekend.

We were happy to share our farm with a friend and her dear friend who was visiting from out of state, and arrived to find a ewe in labor. The ewe was not progressing. We aren’t sure how long she had been in that condition, as we had been away from the farm for the afternoon.

It took intervention to deliver the baby. The lamb needed to be pulled and was having difficulty breathing as it had inhaled quite a bit of fluid in the trauma of birth. Our full arsenal of shepherding skills was demonstrated to our visitors – suctioning, brisk rubbing, nostril puffing, blowdrying (with a hairdryer!), and lamb swinging – everything we felt comfortable doing when resuscitating a lamb. The most difficult skill we have yet to perfect: knowing when enough is enough, that we are not in control of who lives, and who dies. He would pink, and then he would blue, he would pink again, and then blue. Finally it came to the point where I had to lay him down – my big beautiful ram lamb, whose birth I had anticipated for five months – and walk away, saying “I have done what I can do. Nature and mama must do the rest.”

Today we have a healthy lamb – a strong ENORMOUS lamb…not so bad after a not so good start. We gave the privilege of naming him to our farm visitor who had watched his birth. The only criteria for naming was that the name begin with “N” which identifies all of our 2009 babies.

Welcome “Notso”, a very clever name for a little lamb

who was not so sure whether to live or die on the farm.

"To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, And a time to die..." Ecclesiastes 3:1,2

Blood Brothers

Twice a year our boys go through bouts of head slamming, raging headaches, nose bleeds, aching limbs, and wounded egos. We patch up the battered and bruised and try again to effect a peaceful family reunion.
It doesn’t really seem to matter how many times the boys have met – or under what circumstances. There is always a score to settle. Not a personal grievance or memorable offense – just a score. There is something about testosterone that just makes the boys, well…testy. They test their strength, they test their boundaries, and they test the limits of my patience!
As their shepherd, it grieves me to see them bleed. I want to keep them from pain, I want to prevent any conflict between them that could ever arise. Doing so would go completely against their nature. It just isn't possible. The fights will occur, it is their way of communicating and establishing order. It is the same with us, and with our children - in order to find our place in this world, sometimes we have to experience being out of place - and the pain of being put back in it!
We’ve tried reuniting the boys in spaces too tight for them to move. We’ve reunited them around obstacles to prevent them from getting a running start at each other. We’ve reunited them in wide open spaces – big enough to avoid each other completely. We’ve reunited them fully hungry with a banquet of food spread out around them. We’ve taken well-meaning counsel to “anoint their heads with peppermint oil” so they couldn’t scent one another…which resulted in a fragrant battle between bloody candy canes.

Regardless of the efforts we’ve made to ensure peace, it seems that there is truth to the adage “boys will be boys.” There is no reunion without blood. Once sufficient blood is shed, and everyone is knocked practically senseless, the rams get on with the business of life in the bachelor flock: eating, drinking and lounging in the sun. They enjoy a peaceful camaraderie (likely brought about by trauma-induced amnesia)…at least until summer ends, and fall returns. They notice a ewe on a distant hillside, remember that they are indeed boys...and the battle resumes.
Facts from bioweb:
The battle between rams is intense. The two males rush at each other at a combined speed of 40mph, lower their heads, and clash with a force of 2400 pounds! The impact causes their hind legs to lift off the ground and the sound to echo for over a mile. They may charge one another on their hind legs or on all fours. The thickness of the skull and density of their horns, prevents serious brain damage from occurring. The osteocytes of the skull are spaced apart and act as a cushion for the blow. The endurance of these magnificent animals is parallel only to that of a machine. These battles can last for over 20 hours, stopping only to feed or regain comprehension. A male loses when he walks away from the fight or simply does not charge, but is not outcast. Instead, he must accept his role amongst the herd.

Sheep Shells

Just before Thanksgiving, I was blessed with a small flock of Icelandic sheep – a new bloodline to add to my existing flock. They are absolutely gorgeous! That is, I knew they would be absolutely gorgeous underneath the thick armored plates of matted, filthy wool. I don’t know how long it had been since they were shorn – or if they had ever been shorn.

They were fairly wild – having been allowed the freedom to roam through vast acres of woodland. They had little experience of a shepherd’s touch or voice. They were unaccustomed to being led, and would not follow of their own accord – so moving them was quite a challenge. They were lured over a period of days and finally trapped in a shed. Catching them in the shed was simple enough – as they panicked they drove themselves into a corner – making it difficult for any of them to escape. Thankfully, their captor (me) was friendly.

Within a few hours, we had them penned in a stall in our barn, in quarantine. It grieved me to see them in that condition. It was all I could do to hold back the shears and allow them to settle in before attempting to remove the fleece a few days later. Once they found the stall safe, the food ample and my voice familiar we mustered our courage and determined it was time to get to work.

Equipped with a couple of dematting tools and my daughter – the designated sheep holder – we were ready to begin, believing that we would simply comb them out. The moment we laid hands on them it was painfully clear that we had underestimated the task. Our fingers could not penetrate the felted wool to the sheep beneath. I grabbed scissors from the tack stall and attempted to cut through the dense folds to no avail.

As we examined them, we saw that near their joints, there were shallow creases that I could work the scissors into. I felt like I was prying oyster shells to find the pearls inside! Once the plates were split – the arduous task of trimming the hair underneath could begin. It was amazing how heavy the plates were! One sheep had a felted roll around her neck that had taken the shape and thickness of a tractor tire. It had attached itself to the plates along her sides – making them impossible to remove. The scissors would not penetrate the “tire” and it would not pull over her head sweater-style. I resorted to the hoof shears and snipped my way through – an eighth of an inch at a time. When I made the last cut, the collar burst open with an amazing release of pressure. What it must have felt like to this sheep to be freed from a noose of felted wool! Not only was it extremely heavy, but it had grown increasingly close to her skin, interfering with her movement, and constricting her neck, as felted wool has no stretch.

I was astounded by the behavior of one sheep in particular. She had resisted being caught and held, and it was everything my daughter could do to restrain her. Despite my best efforts, there was no hurrying the process. Each hair had to be cut blindly working the scissors underneath the mat, without catching the tender skin of the sheep. We were halfway through one side, feeling the weight of the mat and trying to support it and cut as it was freed from her – when she knelt – and then completely surrendered, laying in my daughter’s lap. The pain from the hanging plates of wool eased, and the tension that the three of us felt vanished. She was no longer struggling and being restrained, but was peacefully resting, completely submitting to our care. What a difference it made.

The Bible teaches in parables and compares us to sheep. And how like sheep we are! We find ourselves in the most trying predicaments and allow ourselves to be reduced to the most pathetic conditions, because for as independent as we think we are, we can be quite helpless. There was nothing the sheep could do to improve their unfortunate circumstances, until a shepherd came to care for them. Thankfully there is also a God who loves us too much to leave us the way he finds us, and has given us a Shepherd.

I found myself thinking of this verse from the Bible, as I clipped though the tangled mats:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Hebrews 12:1

How like sin those mats are! A couple of hairs get crossed and tangle, then a few more get involved, and before long it is difficult to see one from another, and soon there is a mat. No longer can it be combed out or untangled – it must be cut free for the sheep to move freely again. Sins have a way of accumulating in much the same fashion – one to cover up for another. Without repentance, or turning away from the sin, we are doomed to repeat it. Once we become ensnared by sin, we too forget what it is like to move freely. We are caught in our shame and regret – covered with a seemingly impenetrable armor like the mats on sheep. We start to believe the lie that tells us that because we have failed, we are a failure, and there is a weight upon us.

Thankfully God doesn’t see us through human eyes, but through the eyes of love – in Christ – our Good Shepherd. If we will submit to his leading, and yield to his care, he will tenderly shear the sin and shame from our lives. Just like my sheep, we can be made new! The beautiful creation we were meant to be can be redeemed and liberated in forgiveness…we can have new identities in Christ, made whole and perfect and presentable to God.

If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.
2 Corinthians 5:17

Dog Tired?

 
Have you ever heard this expression?

It always strikes me as funny, because around here, no one sleeps as well - or as often - as the cat. This is Ty. He is named for Ty Pennington of Extreme Home Makeover, one of our favorite shows. (We don't have TV. Our neighbor tapes it for us!)

The real Ty speaks openly about being a "spaz" - referring to his ADHD. Our Ty, the cat, has a great deal of energy as well, and could also be called a "spaz".
And the energy he has, he spends completely. Then he sleeps. Hard.

I like that about him. There are no energy reserves. No "spare tank." What he has, he gives. And then he's done. It is honest. Whatever an "honest day's work" means - I'd like to think it is that - putting every bit of your energy into the day at hand, holding nothing back. Then you're done.

It's been like that around here lately. When the days get long, and the rains stop for a while...the kids are out of school, then work begins in earnest. It is time to fence, move fences, repair fences, cross-fence, paint fences...and when the fencing is done (is it ever done?) it's time to spruce up the buildings...weed the garden...water...wash the wool...wash the clothes...clean the house...you don't have to look far to find something to do.

You can easily fill a day from sun up to sun down. And when the sun finally goes down, you are tired. Happily, pleasantly, completely spent. Like the cat. And then you sleep. As hard as you worked. And sleep has never felt better. Because you earned it.

Brooding

 

It always amazes me to see the chickens or ducks sit their nests. With singular mind and purpose they sit, day after day. For chickens, a hatch requires twenty-one days of sitting, a duck, twenty-eight. It must feel like an eternity. I get restless after watching them for just a few minutes and must be moving on. A hen that is not nesting is a very active creature. Always on the go - foraging, exploring. They are already busily about their days before I roll out of bed at six o'clock, a respectable time to start the day, I think. So how do they make it all stop? How do they tune out the temptations to leave the nest? What a lesson in self-sacrifice...

I remember my own pregnancies. I could still travel, garden, and amuse myself to distraction. Not so for the hens. It truly is a "confinement." Could you sit - voluntarily - for twenty-eight straight days? Just sit? No books to read, no sweater to be knitting, no telephone to talk on (or computer!), nothing to watch or listen to except the world going on outside the window? All you would have to occupy yourself is your thoughts. What would you think of?

It is no surprise that mulling over the same thought over and over is called "brooding." But what do our broody thoughts amount to? Are they productive? Brooding is productive. For my hens it produces an incomparable reward - offspring. Darling little ducklings, and cute little chicks...promise that the world goes on.

A hen will not continue to sit on a spoiled egg. It will push it out of the nest. Am I as careful with my nest of thoughts?Or is precious time and space cluttered brooding over pointless pursuits?

New life...

Two days ago, my youngest son discovered one of his favorite hens dead in the henhouse. He was devastated. There were no signs of injury.

"Why did she have to die?" he wailed..."I want to know what killed her and I want to kill it back!" he asserted. He was struggling desperately between justice and vengence, and wrestling with the reality of death.

I kept company with him as he chose a spot for her grave, and helped him make final preparations for her. The tears streamed down his little cheeks, and his chest heaved with sobs. A little boy who doesn't dawdle after bedtime, grateful for a night's rest, was up for hours now, unable to sleep. Bleary-eyed and tear-stained, he crafted a cross for his pet. My heart was breaking for him. Of all the lessons learned on a farm, the precariousness of life weaves through it all. We often think of work ethic and responsibility as a child's foremost experience of rural life, but they are far distant to the ever-present lessons of life and death.

It is hard to witness life's most difficult questions confronted by the mind of a child. Questions that we often still wrestle with as adults. We often give answers that have been given to us, and proven unsatisfactory...Life ends. Living things die. Life isn't fair. Life goes on. Where is the comfort in that?

In times of struggle, what is most needed is hope. As I chose words to comfort my son, I listened carefully to the questions.

"Why did she have to die?" Is there justice in this world, why this hen, my hen?

Yes, there is justice, but no, we don't always understand it. We will suffer and we will grieve, because all life ends in death. God gives life, and he takes it back to Himself at the right time, because that is His design, but he is there, always there.

"I want to know what killed her and kill it back!" I want vengence. When I experience pain, I want to inflict greater pain to lessen my suffering. Vengence does not lessen your suffering, my son, it increases the suffering in the world. You are right to want to protect what is in your care. Her life has ended, and if she suffered, that has ended, too. You will best honor her memory by doing your best to care for those she left behind. Ease your suffering by offering comfort my son. Trust God to mete out vengence. Allow yourself to be comforted.

"I wish she hatched eggs, Mom." I wish I didn't have to let go. I want to know that this isn't the end. I want something to hold on to...I wish she hatched eggs, too, my son. I wish it wasn't so hard to let go. There is nothing we can hold on earth. The only thing we can hold is our hope for heaven, which can never be taken from us. Sometimes it is hard to let go, but know that when we let go, God takes hold, and we can trust in His eternal care.

"Will she go to heaven, Mom?" Is there hope? Is there more to this world than what I see? She is already there. God tells us that not even a sparrow falls without His knowing, and that He loves all of his creation. Death is not the end of life, it is like birth. We are born to earth, where we live until we die, and death is our birth in heaven to a new life.

"I will miss her, Mom." How will I go on? How will I be comforted? You will miss her. There will never be another exactly like her. You will find comfort, because you have a loving God. He is always there. Have faith, He has more to show you. He has a plan for you...a future and a hope.

This morning, while my son was in school, I checked the ducks who are nesting to see if the hatch has begun. In the nest was a lone chick...one of the chickens had slipped an egg into the clutch. We will never know whose stray egg it was - but God does.

There is a new life on the farm today. There is comfort for a boy's grieving heart. And there is a loving God sovereign over every detail. And there is reassurance that with every death, there is birth, and hope.

Transitions...

Every year the sheep are moved from drylot to pasture where their diet goes from stored hay to lush green grass. For the sheep it is an agonizing transition...they can see the grass growing all around them, they can nibble the little bits that persist in their dry lot...but they cannot get enough to feel satiated.

For the shepherd it is equally agonizing. You see, a good shepherd doesn't manage sheep, they manage grass. The grass stand should be about six inches before turning the sheep onto it, and they must be removed before grazing it below three inches. Grass must not be overgrazed, and must be allowed to recouperate, to insure that the sheep have access to healthy pasture throughout the season. This is achieved by timely rotation of pastures. Of course, watching the grass grow is tedious at best. And like watching for water to boil, when you are waiting, it seems to take forever. Since our pastures aren't irrigated, it also means timing the watering, and dragging hoses and sprinklers. All to grow grass - something that is DEADLY to our sheep.

Deadly? But isn't grass good for sheep? Isn't that what they are supposed to eat?

Indeed. But the transition from hay to grass is the most dangerous time of the year. Sheep are ruminants with a complex sytem of four stomachs and digestive bacteria that must stay in a delicate balance. Any change in their diet upsets this balance. Grass ferments in a way that hay doesn't, and can cause a buildup of gas (called bloat) inside of the sheep that is painful, to say the least, and can end by suffocating the sheep to death, sometimes inside of two hours.

Transition must occur slowly. A wise shepherd will control the sheep's access to grass to make sure that the bacteria has time to adjust. The sheep are let onto pasture, and then after a short time, moved back to dry lot - against their wishes, and under protest. Each day, depending on their response to transition, their condition - not their desire - the time on pasture is increased or decreased. The sheep must be watched with a careful eye for signs of bloat. Are the rumens (stomach) full, or are they swelling? Still passing pellets, or are there indications that the digestive process is compromised?

Unfortunately, the sheep, like many of us, have no concept of the danger that something good can pose for them. They like it, so they want as much as they can get. They do not want to be denied. Managing them at this time of year is heartwrenching. They feel deprived, like children. If we loved them, we would let them out of dry lot and deprivation onto lush pasture and indulgence. If we loved them, they would have everything they see, everything they want; we wouldn't withhold good things from them. But that isn't love. Love sets limits. A good shepherd protects sheep from themselves, preserving their lives. He gives them every good thing, in moderation, in the amount they are equipped to handle, in the proper time. A good parent does this for their children. And we, the sheep of God's pasture, His children, are blessed to have a Good Shepherd, a loving Father, who cares for us in the same fashion.

Sometimes we, like sheep, can see the "grass" on the other side, and can't understand why it is being withheld from us, why there seems to be a barrier between us and the things we so desire. Sometimes we begin to "taste" something good, ony to have it taken away and are anguished by the loss...Sometimes we are overwhelmed by limitations and feel deprived - or abandoned. Even though my sheep cannot always see me - I am always there. I provide for them, and am always at work on their behalf in ways they will never know. I am ever watchful for signs of need or distress, and will never let them suffer unduly. Sometimes sheep, in their own folly and stubbornness, will evade the boundaries lovingly set to protect them. As a shepherd, sometimes I am powerless to solve the problems they cause themselves. I can offer them compassion and comfort, and make an effort to heal them, but they suffer the consequences. Loving parents experience this with disobedient children. A loving God experiences this with a sinful humanity. It grieves the heart of the shepherd and the parent.

We must learn to accept boundaries and limitations, and not grasp out of greed and desire for all that we can have, or believe we should have. We must put our lives in the hands of the Good Shepherd, who lovingly cares for us, and knows how delicate the balance is between what is beneficial, and what is harmful. We must accept the consequences of our sinfulness and stubborness as results of our disobedience that grieves the heart of the One who cares for us, and turn to him for the care, comfort and healing he can offer. No good can come to the sheep that defies the Shepherd or the child that despises their Father, but one who rests in His wisdom and care will thrive.

I have the most disgusting habit...

...of collecting eggs throughout the day and putting them in my pockets, rather than in an egg basket. Its not the eggs or the pockets that are disgusting - it's what happens to the eggs when I forget that they are there. Like tonight for example. I collected eggs from the barn hen when I fed the sheep. An hour or so later, I went back down to check Elizabeth, who has been showing signs of labor. Not enough change to get excited about, so I crossed the aisle to sneak a peek at the newest lamb - Eira - born to Susie, a yearling, this afternoon. As I leaned over the stall rails to admire the two, I felt something dripping down my leg, and realized I had done it again! When will I learn?!

How does Webster's define a habit?
1: manner of conducting oneself
2: the prevailing disposition or character of a person's thoughts and feelings : mental makeup
3: a settled tendency or usual manner of behavior

Goodness gracious, if what I felt when I reached into my pocket is any indication of my mental state...

How do we break a habit?
About.com says "The first step in breaking a bad habit is to look at why you find this action so
compelling. In other words, what's the payoff for doing this seemingly negative thing?"

Let's see...the payoff is the convenience of the pocket - freeing my hands.

Next "Each time you perform the action, you are choosing what you value more: the payoff or the tradeoff!"

The tradeoff is having a broken egg - on my hand, filling my pocket - and everything else I have stuffed in there - egg down my leg, having to stop what I am doing to go up to the house, clean up the mess and start a new load of laundry. And the wasted effort of a hen's entire day. Yes! Clearly slipping the eggs into my pocket is a matter of convenience!

So why do we do the senseless thing we do?
Things that in no way benefit us...that in the end cause more harm than good...

I think because initially it seems so trivial, like slipping an egg into my pocket. And if nothing comes of it the first time, we do it again. And again. A habit forms. Then the egg breaks. But is that enough to make a change? No, because of all the times it didn't break. Perhaps next time it won't, and it's easier to slip it into my pocket...but is it easier to clean it up? Well, no, but perhaps this time it won't break.

Breaking an egg can be a good thing, depending on where, how and why it is done. There could be no cake without a broken egg. But in a pocket, a broken egg is a different thing entirely. The egg never serves the purpose for which it was given.

The same can be true of anger... it just slips into our hearts, and doesn't seem to cause any harm, like an egg in my pocket. There is no sin in anger. Anger is a feeling we have because we are made in the likeness of God. But, put it under pressure, and perhaps it bursts forth in yelling, like the yolk slipping from the shell. At this point, we have slipped out from under His covering, into sin. Sometimes nothing comes of it. We are alone, and venting our anger this way seems "harmless enough" so it becomes a habit, a dispostion, a foothold. Then when the pressure comes from another person harm is done. It is much more difficult to "clean up" words spoken in anger and words spoken have a way of echoing through time...
In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26, 27
In your anger do not sin... search your hearts and be silent. Psalm 4:4

So there you have it. I begin writing about eggs, and end with a sermon on anger. Farm life is wonderful that way. Just as Jesus taught in parables...he still teaches me in parables. My days here astound me in the ways I learn about the heart of God...

I will make my best effort today carry my eggs (and my anger) purposefully...and hopefully change my habit (and my disposition!)

Even still, I am of the mind that barn coats should not have pockets!

Showing skin!

April 17th was shearing day on the farm! What a wonderful day it was. For the first time in the years of raising Angora goats and hand shearing with scissors...I treated myself to a professional this year, and was it ever worth it! To watch a professional shearer work is like poetry in motion. To the left is Martin, our shearer, with Khalid - our five year old ram. Amazing! Martin sat them right down in a "sheep sit" made a few orchestrated passes with his shears, and presto! Within minutes, an intact fleece and a bare sheep, none the worse for wear. I am converted. There are some heritage farm skills worth learning to do yourself...and then there is shearing.

Khalid has won the shearer's title of "most favored ram." Despite his awe-inspiring appearance, and his intense ramming of his post expressly for that purpose...he was a true gentleman. Upon opening his pen, he trotted right to the shearing parlor (aka my husband's shop converted for the purpose) and sat down upon prompting, minding his manners throughout. Once he recovered his feet, he trotted through the barn right back to his pen...polka dots and all. Yes, under that two tone fleece are more spots than a dalmation! You can see him bare in the farm photo album - the link is in the right navigation at the top of the blog. I must add a note of caution - despite Khalid's behavior, he is still a ram, and rams cannot EVER be trusted, no matter how pleasant they seem. Never turn your back on one, or stand directly in their path - even on the opposite side of the fence. Rams cannot be pets, or "tamed" without dire consequences. We consider ourselves blessed by his good temperament, but use extreme caution around him nonetheless.

Not knowing the lambing dates for the new ewes presented a challenge. It was clear that some were quite close. We had already needed to trim the first ewes that lambed prior to shearing for the little ones to find the udder. Having the rest of them shorn has made lamb-watch much easier...I can see what I need to see as their time draws near without groping blindly to see what is developing. Polly lambed the day after shearing. Too close for my preference. It is said that shearing too close to lambing can impact the presentation of the lamb. In her case it may have. Whether it was from shearing or not, both lambs had one leg back, instead of nose on toes. All are doing well though! It seems everyone is expecting...so there will be frequent updates to the lamb photo album!

My worst fears were allayed. Having sheep shorn serves more than the purpose of harvesting fleece. It gives the sheep a break from the summer heat, and gives the shepherd a good view of the condition of the sheep, which isn't easy to determine under all of that fleece. I had feared that the sheep were thin because of the hard winter and a brief period of marginal hay...they are not. In fact, I would dare say they are a bit fat. So much for trusting their instincts...they kept saying they were hungry and I believed them...Don't believe a sheep. The other fear was sheep keds - a parasite that lives within the wool. Not only does it damage the wool, but it impacts the overall health of the sheep. Not one! Our sheep were 100% ked-free! We've never had them before...and the new sheep didn't bring any hitchhikers to our delight! No skin issues whatsoever.

Now the work begins. What do we do with all of that wool? The winter fleeces, with a few exceptions, are not suitable for handspinning, as they collect debris from bedding and feed. They also have a tendency to felt from the snow and rain. Winter clips are for the sheep - it is their cold-weather coat. For the most part, they will be washed and felted into rugs and dog beds, and some are sold for felting. The fall clip is the one we look forward to! That one is ours!!! Since they are out on clean, green grass, and stay dry, for the most part, fall clips are gloriously soft and open. Those are the clips that are spun, sold, and entered into competition.

So between lambings, we'll be staying quite busy felting this wonderful crop of wool!

Chickens in the Living Room

Indeed! There are 16 young Barred Rocks in our living room, as it is snowing outside. Already we are 100 inches over the average snowfall for the year. Will it ever stop? Is spring coming this year??? Can't spare the space in the barn...we need it for lambing, so we must brood our chicks inside.

Typically, our hens raise the chicks around here, but this year we are adding a new breed, so we started from hatchery stock. Having been around this block before, I did not succumb to the darling day old chicks - but waited for them to become awkward, gangly feathered creatures. Cute gets its mileage, yes, but the practicality of older chicks wins hands down for this farm girl. They are not as likely to "expire" as day olds, have alreday eaten a couple of weeks of food on someone else's tab, and are a bit more "thermoregulated" so the temperature fluctuation is not such a challenge in this old, drafty house whose wood furnace runs cold in the middle of the night.

Have learned a bit from experience. This year, and if-ever after, I am brooding in a wire rabbit cage, with the removeable tray. All of the mess falls through the floor to the shredded newspaper...and they haven't been able to pollute the water! Other than the bundles of chick fluff that accumulates like cottonwood tufts around the room - they've been no trouble at all. In fact, their incessant peeping and scampering is becoming quite endearing, now that there is no mess that results from them, and I might even miss them when they make the move to the great outdoors!

What happened?

Monica's twin Minnie delivered twins on Saturday, her first lambing as well, at her new farm.

One lamb was more vigorous, which is not unusual, and the smaller was soon recovered by bottlefeeding in the shepherdess' care as Minnie seemed overwhelmed by motherhood, and more so the task of raising twins. By evening, the first was found dead, so the second was returned to the lambless mother, and it too suffered an apparent trampling, like the first. Why?

I question what I might have done differently as the parent farm. The shepherdess did all that I would have done, and having grown up on farms, and experienced birth and bonding in whelping litters of puppies, is as experienced and capable as they come. Why was Minnie unsuccessful? The shepherdess started her flock with two bred yearling ewes. It seemed like a good start, and many choose to begin flocks this way. But now I question, even though "everybody is doing it," is it the wisest start? As a parent farm, judging from this tragic outcome, and heartbreak as an introduction to sheep, what can I do to ensure future success of our daughter flocks? What can I learn from this?

Yes, Soay sheep are wild sheep, and prized for their ease of lambing, and lack of assistance required from a shepherd...they are natural mothers, and bummer lambs are few. I do not want to detract from this quality, but can I manage them differently to ensure this success?

To begin, as my ewe lambs are growing, I think it might be helpful if I handle their udders, so the sensation of nursing doesn't come as such a shock...

In placing bred ewes perhaps a yearling would be more successful if she were with an older ewe who has lambed, to learn from observation. Monica had this advantage. She watched her mother lamb, and her aunt, and was able to see her aunt care for twins through the jug rails. She saw them nursing, and heard the "mama speak" that Stellar used to call, calm and admonish the lambs while waiting for her own to be delivered. To ease the shock of motherhood, she had the reassurance of the experienced mothers, and is growing comfortable in her role, as did the yearlings that lambed here last year...Minnie didn't have this. Is this the critical difference?

Perhaps I will also delay the breeding of the young ewes a month, so that the older ewes lamb first, and the first-time mothers-to-be have a good chance to observe and grow accustomed to all that motherhood entails...

Will the other yearling succeed after having witnessed the demise of the other's lambs? Will her instinct carry her and her lamb, or is modelling from other members of a flock critical? In my opinion, from this point, it is preferred...

A New Generation...

Welcome, Edwin, Monica's first lamb!

Morning comes early here, especially during lambing season. Barn check is at 6am...typically about the time my Soays lamb. Thursday morning tempted me to stay in bed later, with snow beginning to fall, and the fire in the furnace having gone out in the middle of the night - leaving the air in the house brisk. The bed was so warm and comfortable...but not comfortable enough to risk losing a lamb.

I put the coffee on and bundled up for the barn, tucking a breakfast cookie in my pocket in case I was delayed by what I found. The sheep were anticipating my visit, and began their usual bawling as soon as they heard my feet on the gravel drive. I heard no nickering, so if any were to be born today, they hadn't arrived as yet. I waded through the mob of mothers-to-be clamoring for a tidbit, checked Aurora and Eclipse, who has begun leaping, dancing and climbing, Stellar and her wide-eyed twins, and in the last occupied jug, little Monica, our yearling. Monica was clearly in labor, and bewildered, despite having witnessed two lambings already.

So as not to distress her, I went back up to the house to get a thermos of coffee, put breakfast on the table for the family, and arrived back in the barn just in time to find her cleaning her newborn. She had gotten a good start, but it was in the 20's and beginning to snow. She wasn't quite as efficient as her lamb needed her to be in this unseasonable weather, and I couldn't bear losing another lamb to exposure.

I took a towel and assisted her in the drying and warming, for which she seemed grateful. She was eager to claim him, and cleaned him with enthusiasm. In fact each time we got him dry, she would lick him wet again. The cleaning was a task she enjoyed, though only half of what she was expected to do. The most critical need was to nurse, to warm him from the inside out, and that was something she preferred not to do.

Having experienced labor, and the passing of a wet wriggling thing, was freakish enough for her, without having her udder being manipulated as well, and all of the sensations that entailed. She wanted nothing to do with it and decided the best course of action was to commence to cleaning him again. Without nursing, the lamb would lose strength and vigor, and soon would be unable to accomplish the task. With assistance and coaching, Edwin soon had his first meal and was ready to sleep. Monica, wanting to return to a sense of normalcy, went for the feeder and left him in my care to sleep off his first snack.

She was quick to notice his absence though, and in the picture above, returns to claim and clean him again. I made hourly checks thoughout the day, and before long, they had accomplished nursing on their own, though awkwardly, with Monica squatting and lifting her leg to minimize the contact Edwin made. Many times I found them snuggled together, Monica alert and watchful, clearly content with her new charge.