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| Our Sheep |
I heard a story this week about seven sheep that recently escaped a slaughter house in Patterson, New Jersey, and after being rescued, were sent to an animal sanctuary where they will live out the remainder of their days quite comfortably. How they escaped is yet to be determined, but needless to say, it was a really good move on their part. And that brings me to our own personal sheep story.
It was 1981 and we had just moved into our newly renovated parsonage in rural Pennsylvania. In its former life it had been a farmhouse, so it came with a few acres of land, some outbuildings and a barn. Larry and I looked at those empty buildings and wondered what to do with them. Here we had a small farm right outside our door, but the stalls sat empty. And then we got the brightest, or so we thought, of ideas. Why not get us some sheep?
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| Our parsonage came with a small farm |
A couple of our church families raised sheep. We would often see Marilee and Junior Chaffee's flock grazing as we drove by their place, looking so serene and tranquil. Yes, for sure that's what we needed. So we stopped at their home one day and asked if they might be willing to spare a couple of ewes and a ram. Sure enough. A few days later Junior deposited three sheep into our keeping. Our shepherding days were about to begin.
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| Our nephews Jonathan and Matthew meeting one of our sheep |
It's been over forty years since we attempted to take on the roles of shepherds, so some of the details have been forgotten, possibly due to memories simply fading over time. But I think it more likely that some things are best forgotten because they are just down right embarrassing. And in our case, I believe this describes us perfectly.
I still have vivid memories of our sheep taking off down the dirt road that led to our parsonage, their hind ends and tails in the air, as if out for a Sunday stroll. In spite of the fence that surrounded their pasture, they were always breaking out. At first Larry was anxious, wondering how he could possibly get them back in their pen, but it wasn't long before he learned that if we left them alone, they would eventually come home,"wagging their tails behind them."
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| They were constantly breaking out and taking off |
But if the ewes were a bit hard to control, the ram was worse. A bit cantankerous, it was virtually impossible to keep him in his enclosure. He ruled, taking over the grounds. One Sunday morning we heard and felt several loud bangs and thumps coming from our front porch. A television antenna, several feet tall, sat in our yard directly in front of that porch, bringing in the few stations we were able to get in rural Bradford county. The ram, feeling especially grumpy that morning, had hit that thing so hard, he knocked it completely out of the ground and left it leaning up against our battered roof.
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| Our cantankerous ram |
It was early spring when we had two lambs born that finally made us admit that we weren't cut out for this. Neither of the babies survived, and we knew that it was time to find a better home for our woolly residents. The Jennings, well-acquainted with the needs of sheep, lived up the road just a short distance from us. Neighbor Dick loaded the three into his truck and as he pulled away and rounded the bend, we felt a sense of relief. Maybe we were a little sad, a bit disappointed that we hadn't done a better job. It hadn't seemed like it would be all that hard. At least not until we were actually in the thick of it.
I guess not everybody's cut out to be a shepherd. It was a harder job than we could have ever imagined and we really had no clue as to what we were doing. It would have been better if we'd hung with someone first who knew sheep: observing, asking questions, learning, equipping ourselves for the task ahead. But because we assumed it was going to be an easy job, we winged it and failed miserably. And yet, looking back, I believe there was an object lesson being played out right in front of us.
For there's another kind of shepherd. That is the one who loves, cares for, nurtures and grows the sheep, following and living life under the example and instruction of the Greatest Shepherd of all. I've known lots of them, my husband Larry included. It's not an easy job, tending to the various needs of sheep. Some are easy to lead; they bring joy and encouragement to the shepherd. But others are difficult, even cantankerous like our ram. There are others who want to do their own thing, not liking boundaries and rules, strolling off the property figuratively speaking to see what's around the bend. Sometimes they come back on their own, and sometimes the shepherd goes after them, searching until they're found. But he's always there, always ready, always available, because he understands what's at stake. Eternity.
