Redeemer

   Praise the Lord, who did not let their teeth tear us apart! We escaped like a bird from a hunter's trap. The trap is broken, and we are free! Our help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." Psalm 124:6-8

  I have a wedding shower to go to in a couple of weeks. The engaged couple are planning on homesteading. This means they will have animals. Right now, their plan is to invest in chickens and goats. They have minimal experience with any sort of farming.

  As part of their gift, I decided to write down things I learned on the farm; the type of things you don't find in books. I came up with nearly a hundred and seventy five thoughts, suggestions and words of advice. I could have written more but simply remembering has come with an emotional toll.

  This meant remembering those unhappy days. They weren't all unhappy but hindsight has me realizing depression was my constant companion in this season of my life. It makes it difficult to find the joy.

  The thing about time is it folds. It felt like yesterday even though it's been nearly twenty years. The remembered smell of the barn is filling my nostrils.

  The thing about raising animals is there is no middle ground. There is life. There is death.

  The deaths haunt me. Every loss took a piece of my heart because in those days, I didn't know Jesus. We've had many a long talk about what happened in those long years when I was responsible for the animals. I know He has forgiven me. 

  The couple have an advantage. They have Google. If there's a question, chances are the answer can be found there. They also have each other and Jesus.

  I never wanted to farm. It sort of fell into my lap because there happened to be a barn on the property. At its biggest, I was looking after nearly 50 sheep and goats, a dozen or so cows and calves, seven horses, numerous fowl of all descriptions, a pair of llamas and a couple of pet pigs. I have no idea how or why it got so big.

  My no was broken. Except when it came to the buffalo my ex wanted. I told him I would leave if he bought them. They are not domestic animals. They are dangerous. They need heavy duty fencing. We had none of that. Heck, our pathetic fences couldn't even keep the cows in!

  The buffalo owner was killed by one of his animals the next summer.

  To this day, seeing Orion's belt in the night sky gives me a twinge of panic. When it showed up, it meant babies were coming soon. It meant the work load doubled with barn checks, bottle babies, and loss. I wasn't always there to make sure things were okay despite checking the barn every four hours. Sometimes, I would sleep on the sofa without undressing because getting out of a warm bed on a frigid March night was nearly impossible.

  The responsibility weighed heavy.

  Fear was my constant companion.

  And maybe that's what has gotten stirred up the most...the remembered fears. 

  But maybe there's some room for grace this morning...I did the best I could with the tools and resources I had at the time. I did the best that I could despite the challenges of living with an alcoholic spouse who was really stupid around the animals and farm equipment. It's a wonder he wasn't killed. It's a wonder he didn't get me killed. 

  His handling of the animals was all about dominance and control. Not surprising, really, it was the same with our marriage.

  My handling of the animals was all about moving slowly and quietly.

  So maybe the fear was a good thing. It made me careful. It made me spend time handling and taming all our breeding stock so if there was an issue, I could step in. New moms can be dangerous if they feel their offspring is being threatened so building trust was very important. They trusted me, their shepherd.

  My youngest son was a big help in the latter years. I am thankful for that. Not only helping with innumerable chores, he'd bring me something warm to drink or check that I was okay during the long, cold hours of waiting for babies.

  I mastered the art of being still which has served me well in my walk with the Lord.

  

  I think I've found some peace today. Writing down my farm advice is a redemption story, isn't it? The Lord has given me an opportunity to share the knowledge accumulated over the course of several years because this gal was raised in the city and didn't have a clue when it came to farming. 

  I can celebrate how much my shepherding experiences have been transferred to a walk with Jesus. I can celebrate the insights they have given me about the greatest Shepherd of all.

  He is the Redeemer!

  In remembering the pain I experienced with each loss, it is only a fraction of what Jesus must feel when one of His lambs is lost.

  

Sorrow

   "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I (Jesus) have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." John 10:10

  There seems to be an issue with the blog. Some of the writing has been black instead of white. Against a black background, it makes it hard to read. It's only happened since purchasing this new laptop. It might be prudent to experiment with some of the settings to see if that will fix the problem. Barring that, there's always customer service. I will see what I can do.

  My heart is heavy today. It has been since yesterday. Word on the street is the young man we saved from an overdose at the beginning of the year has died. Police have yet to confirm if it was him or not but I'll trust the grapevine on this. Any official announcement may have to wait until next of kin have been found and notified. 

  He must have died all alone.

  I didn't know much about him. He was someone's son and possibly a brother, a cousin, a nephew or even an uncle. His family was the people on the streets and they feel his loss keenly.

  I voiced a thought about why on earth drug dealers are making their products so lethal. A new animal tranquilizer has made an appearance in illegal drugs. It's far more potent than fentanyl. None of this makes any sort of sense from a business perspective. Someone replied that for one death, nine people become  hooked. Opiods can create an instant addiction, an instant need for more. One and done. So it's not about creating a lethal product, it's about numbers and dollars. I guess one death is an acceptable loss to them. 

  It's hard not to judge the dealers and manufacturers of these products. It's hard not to condemn the power of greed. It's hard not to hate them for their utter disregard for their fellow human beings because I doubt they see them as people at all. Maybe they lost their own humanity somewhere along the line. Maybe their own fathoms deep Black River is drowning them and holding them captive in the life they lead just like mine did for so many years. 

  And I may need to keep telling myself this...there is only one being who delights in darkness, death and destruction. He is the real enemy here: the master at whittling away at all that is good and pure and beautiful. 

  No child ever says they want to be a drug dealer when they grow up, do they?

  

  I never saw the young man after we saved his life. Illness took me out of the scene completely. I never got to tell him about what God had orchestrated to save his life. I never got to tell him how much he was loved. 

  Regret causes its own sorrow. 

  God forgive me.