A shooting star? That’s a first for me. I shouldn’t be surprised though. It follows a deluge of rainbows, a trend of natural signs, pointing to … well, I’m not sure yet.
I sat in the middle of a thorn-bush enclosed livestock corral on the side of a mountain, flicking flies out of my Samburu chai with a twig, thinking, “Is this really my life?”
Nothing makes you consider what a faithful life looks like than that moment when you’re knee deep in the clinging mud of a freezing stream, trying to pull a floundering ewe to safety. In short, the biblical imagery of believers as sheep? Accurate. But maybe not in the way you think.
Nairobi has chocolate chips and Corn Flakes and Snickers. Surely, somewhere in this blessed town, there is a horseradish.
Of course, this Chinese New Year ushers out the Year of the Sheep and welcomes in the Year of the Monkey. Of course it does.
There are lambs in the barn, the laundry room and the garage. I’ve tramped up hills and down hills and slogged through knee-deep mud to retrieve little ones. I’ve assisted some births and revived some babies and lost some.
Farming is a balancing act. Sometimes, you win. Sometimes, you lose. As long as the losses don’t outweigh the wins, you’re doing all right. That’s where Miss Piggy comes in. She’s a reminder of the things I enjoy about sheep farming, and something greater.
I unplugged this year. I’ve had a hard time plugging back in. Until now, thanks to help from Amanda Palmer and feral cats.
The evening sun angles to the west as I finish dumping the last 50-pound bag of feed into the tall round feeders. The lambs crowd around, nibbling the corn and […]
The revolution of the Earth around the sun is the perfect lesson of how it should be / So if I can, I’ll learn / to journey and return / […]