Shorn by Susan L.

  So I got a haircut. I like it short but this is the shortest it's been in a long time. The hairdresser was one of those chatty ones and wasn't paying full attention to the task at hand. I had to go back because once I'd washed it, one side was obviously longer than the other. Too bad we aren't like the old Barbies who had the select-a-length hair that you could pull out or push in to the hole in her head depending on the look you wanted. For me, there was no choice but to make the offending long side shorter.
  It will eventually grow out. Thankfully I have hair that grows fast.
  It was breezy yesterday and the wind tickling my scalp made me giggle and think of shorn sheep. How they used to skip and dance and fidget once their long fleece was cut off. We had three that had been rescued by the humane society. There were about three years old and had never been shorn or been outside. Shortly after we got them, they dropped lambs. One gave us quads. I had to hack away part of the wool that was touching the ground so the little ones could find milk. A single fleece covered an eight by ten tarp once it was removed. It was a few days before they stopped twitching an skittering away every time the wind blew.
  We had another one that got away from us on shearing day so she went two years without shearing. There was a baby goat that used to ride her and only her. He'd jump up on her back, a nice flat, wide surface and butt her in the back of her head to get her moving. Sheep surfing, a new sport.
  I am grateful for having been a shepherdess. The Lord has used many of the events with the animals to teach me of His love. He is the Great Shepherd after all.
  "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want, He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." Ps 23:1-3