Minding Sheep

 

Looking back, we were pretty ignorant about the whole thing. But we had an old farm house, a small pasture with good grass, readily available irrigation, and we had read that sheep were easy to raise. We drove to a local farmers' auction, dead-set on getting some lambs. Surprisingly, we took the bid on a nice little flock of three, loaded them into the back of our small pickup, and home we came. Unloading them into the field, the fun began - those little lambs, in a strange place and separated from others of their kind, began a loud, plaintive bleating that we were sure could be heard in the next county; it went on for hours. Who knew???

 

 

That first tentative step into raising sheep taught us much, and when we moved from Idaho to Washington, we tried again - in fact, we tried several times. Each time, we managed to raise them to butchering size and were satisfied that we got a big pile of wool to spin and a good batch of meat for the freezer. This is not to say we were highly-knowledgeable sheep farmers. Far from it!

 

 

Two thousand years ago, on the other side of the world, the shepherd's equipment was very simple: a cloak woven from wool or made from sheepskins, a lighter, short-sleeved coat, a staff or club, a sling of goat's hair, a skin pouch or bag for his belongings, and sometimes a musical pipe.

In those days, shepherds knew their sheep. Unless he could afford to delegate the work to his relatives or hirelings, the sheep owner tended his flocks himself. If others watched them, they well may have been neglected or abused, but the owner had a personal interest in the well-being of the animals and if he herded them they usually had good care.

Either way, the main job of the shepherd was to see that the sheep found plenty to eat and drink. The flocks are not fed in pens or folds, but depended on foraging both summer and winter. Sheep are fairly helpless on their own and do not possess the instinct of many other animals for finding their way, so they need to be led to good grazing and watered at least once a day. This was an easy matter on mountain tops with melting snows or if there were springs or streams, but in other places they depended on deep wells. Often the nearest water was hours away. Sometimes it could be found by digging shallow wells and the shepherd would carry a container from which the sheep could drink.

The usual time for watering was at noon. After drinking, the animals huddled together in the shade of a rock while the shepherd slept. At the first sound of his call, usually a peculiar guttural sound, the flocks followed him to new feeding-grounds. They never mistook their own master's voice, even if the sheep intermingled and two shepherds called their flocks at the same time.

In the mountains, flocks were gathered at night into folds, which were caves or enclosures of rough stones. Where there was no danger the sheep huddled together in the open until daylight, while the shepherd watched over them. Lambs were often born far off on a mountain side. The shepherd guarded the mother during her labor, picked up the newborn and carried it to the fold. He might carry it in his arms or in the loose folds of his coat for a few days until it grew strong.

 

So very long ago - I often wish I had been there...

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks by night. An angel of the lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."...The shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about." So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them...The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.                      Luke 2:10-12, 15-18, 20

Empty Nesters

Empty nest n. - A home or a family where the children have grown up and left home.

Even on the bleakest days of this winter, I notice it outside our bedroom window - seek it out, actually. Forlorn and droopy though it might appear, especially with our dark and soggy northwest weather, it is a good reminder for me of what does, and doesn't need to be.

The bird that made it is long gone, basking in a warmer clime. But it was a sly one, quietly flitting in and out of the leaf cover to build its masterpiece. Summer was half over before we ever noticed it, although it is nearly at eye level from our second story bedroom window which I look out of every single day of the year. That robin carefully and painstakingly constructed this nest of twigs, mud, grass, moss and feathers, before laying its eggs and successfully raising its young. This was one nest that we couldn't really observe - it was just too well-hidden, wedged into the fork of several branches and obscured by thick leaves. I saw enough, however, to know that the young did hatch, were regularly fed and protected, and did eventually leave the nest for good. And in the life of the adult bird, that was it - having no further use for the nest, she also left in behind, never to return to or use it again. Perhaps there is a lesson here for us...

Most birds build and use a nest for one reason only - as a safe, protected place in which to raise their young. Some kinds of birds return to the same nest year after year, repairing and re-arranging it as necessary; many insist on building a new nest each year. Either way, very seldom do the adults stick around to use the nest themselves after their young have left it; it has served its purpose. And consider what those adults do when their young have finally learned to fend for themselves and are gone for good. They go on with their bird lives, doing whatever it is that birds of their kind do. I seriously doubt that they suffer long, if at all, from "empty nest syndrome".

I have always been a "nester". I attribute that, at least in part, to the fact that I was raised in a safe and cozy home. Although my sisters were teenagers when we moved in, I was a toddler and it was the only childhood home I ever knew. I lived there until I was married; my parents lived there until their deaths.

My parents did all of the work - carpentry, repairing, painting, decorating - themselves on that old house and so I thought that everyone did that. Because we lived next to our family greenhouse and floral business, the house became the center of our existence. In Our-Speak, it was always "the store" and "the house". To me, the house was a comfortable refuge - a warm, inviting place that was often a bit messy and disorganized, but never dirty nor uncared for. The coffee was always on, an extra plate (and perhaps a thinner soup...) was always available to visitors, a listening ear heard many a lament or heartache, and family mourning or celebration took place there. In the greatest sense of the word, it was always HOME for me. And it continued to function in these ways long after I had left it.

Since our marriage, my husband and I have lived in two apartments and five different houses and each of those was a home for us at the time. We followed suit with my parents by remodeling, repairing, and decorating each one to suit our needs. Each time we moved, I hated to leave the house, but quickly adapted to the new place and set about nesting again. 

Some lessons are learned the hard way and one of the biggest and best for me concerned a house. After spending four years in Colorado, where we poured blood, sweat, and tears into an old log house, we moved with my husband's work to Texas. I was heartbroken to leave, although I did adapt rather quickly to a much nicer house in the new location. A year or two after we'd left, my husband traveled on business back to our town in Colorado and I went along to visit old friends there. One of our previous neighbors insisted that she take me to visit our old house, something I truly dreaded doing because I had loved it so. The current owners were quite amicable and warmly invited us in to take the "royal tour" of our old home. It was then I realized that this house meant nothing to me anymore - absolutely NOTHING. Oh yes, the memories of our time spent there were strong (still are) - and mostly happy - but that was then and this was now. Quite simply - it was no longer our house and, therefore, no longer our home. It is the people and the experiences that make a house a home.

We've lived in our present house longer than in all of the others put together. Again, we have poured time, talent, and money into it and in the process have made quite a nest for ourselves.

We were married for some time before bringing a child into the family, but quickly adapted - and adapted the house as well - to having a young one around.

When the turbulent teen years hit, our son was in and out, out and in, and then finally out for good. Thus, we found ourselves being "empty nesters" well before most people probably do. I would be lying if I said this was not painful - for what wonderful, warm, happy memories children bring into our homes and lives. Nevertheless, even under the best of circumstances, children grow up and move out. Who of us would have it otherwise?

Today, our son and grandchildren are always welcome in our home and they do visit. But we know that they have their own lives to live and understand when the visits are infrequent.

Life does indeed go on - we have friends who come by,

 

we occasionally have various kinds of meetings here,

we keep in touch with relatives and friends who live some distance away and welcome their visits when they can make them.

We consider any visit to our home a special occasion and therefore make the coffee, offer the food (and sometimes a bed...) and spend the time visiting whenever possible. We consider it a privilege to be able to do so.

Mostly, we spend time with each other or alone doing the things that we enjoy doing here at home. Because it is our home, we are the ones to enjoy it, but we realize that the house is just a building. It is what happens here - and who is present - that makes it a real home.

Recently, it was tree-trimming, cookie-baking, and candy-making with the grandkids.

Next week it will be Christmas Eve and Day spent with them, our son, and my sister, in our crazy, some-old-some-new ways with mystery packages, home-made goodies, mixed generations, good food, recliner naps, rap music, old time carols, and maybe a game or two.

We welcome all the hubbub and when it is over, we will welcome returning to the peace and quiet once again.

And so, as this season of darkness continues to progress, inching ever closer to a new season, I'll continue to watch the deserted nest from our window. Unlike the birds, most of us DO need a place to call home. One way or another, we shape our own nests as a place of refuge and comfort. It does not matter so much the shape or size of the house, only that it suits our particular needs and offers some respite from the busy-ness of the world. Many of us feather our nests so that we may raise children and, eventually, these children do fly away.

 

 

But life DOESN'T need to become less engaging when the children leave. There are a great many ways and reasons to feather one's nest...

 Ours is never empty.

For more holiday posts
click below:

Holidays: 1. Prepare Yourself
Holidays: 2. Figure It Out
Holidays: 3. Forge Ahead
Holidays: 4. Celebrate!
I Don't Do Angels
Christmas Is
Whose Holiday Stamps?
Santa's Angel
Berries and Thorns
O Tannenbaum
Of Things Not Seen
The Shepherds Wore Tennis Shoes
Following Stars
The Glow of Advent

Giving Thanks

"God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today.

Have you used one to say 'thank you?'"

William A. Ward

 

 

I woke up today with a clear mind, still physically able to do many things. Because I had an education, I am able to read, write, and work with numbers. I've had fulfilling, meaningful jobs, which have extended into volunteerism. I have been able to envision and create with my hands many items of function and beauty. I have been able help others with time, talents, and money.

 

 

 

I am privileged

 

My husband and I found each other and remain in a loving relationship after all these years. We have worked long and hard to build a life together. We have a roof over our heads with heat in the winter and cooling breezes in the summer; we have enough to eat and ample fresh water every single day. We have been able to expand our horizons through travel.

 

"If the only prayer you said in your whole life was,

'thank you,'

that would suffice."

Meister Eckhart

I have enough

 

I am surrounded by family and friends who care - people I can depend on, if needed. I was fortunate to grow up in an honest, stable, hard-working family. I share the joy of birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, and feasts and also the sorrow of illnesses, accidents, tragedies and deaths. I have said a final goodbye to one sister and both parents; I have held a new-born grandchild.

 

 

I am content

 

I spend time outdoors where I am able to see the mountains, hear the ocean, smell the flowers, and feel the wind. I have discovered, observed, studied - and shared my life with - a great many other creatures. I have experienced sunrises, crystal-clear days, sunsets, star-studded nights, lunar and solar eclipses, thunderstorms, blizzards, gently rains, searing heat, and countless other phenomena that I regularly take for granted. I live in a world too beautiful, awesome, and powerful to fully understand and I cherish each and every day that I am allowed to remain here.

I am appreciative

I have faith in an all-knowing, omnipotent God who is always with me no matter the time, place, or circumstance. I am loved and forgiven.

 

I am richly blessed

For all of these things, I am exceedingly THANKFUL

 

...give thanks in all circumstances.

for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

 1 Thessalonians 5:18

 

SEE ALSO:

Blessings, Wherever You Find Them

Sorting Out the "Needs"

Recipe for Thanks-Giving

Traditional ? Feasting

Squirrelly Thoughts

 

With summer now gone and fall slowly taking over, the squirrels that visit our yard are becoming a bit more numerous and frantic. It's not that I blame them - the fault is entirely ours. For many years, as we fed the birds, we had at least one feeder that was an easy-access one for squirrels. We had not planned this, it's just that squirrels are nearly impossible to outfox outsquirrel. After a few visits by a wandering black bear in the last year or so, we've cut back on the bird feeders and rigged them so they are difficult for land critters to reach. This has frustrated the squirrels to no end and they have quit coming around so frequently, which is probably better or them in the long run. They are not really visitors; the Douglas squirrels, or chickarees, occupied this territory long before any of us were here and they favor native foods, especially seeds of the Douglas fir. Still, who doesn't enjoy an easy, free meal now and then? They continue to venture in to check the ground beneath the feeders. They need to store up some food for later, especially if it is a female who's expecting a second litter.

 

NPS Photo by Sally King

I've always enjoyed watching squirrels. I have no recollection of them being in the town I grew up in on the high plains of Montana, but we always saw them on any trip to the conifer-cloaked mountains. After we married and moved to the woods of Colorado, we enjoyed watching the Tassel-eared or Abert's squirrels which are found in ponderosa pine forests in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and the Colorado plateau. The longer tufts of dark hair covering the tops of each ear make them stand out from other squirrels and definitely up the cuteness factor. They mainly feed off of the seeds, tender buds, and inner bark of the ponderosa pines there, but they also came to our feeders. 

We lived for a time in the hill country of Texas where there are Eastern Gray Squirrels. Active year-round, they live primarily in trees and feed on a great variety of foods; they regularly pilfered all the seed in our bird feeder. My husband kept trying to out-smart them and once mounted the feeder at the top of a tall, narrow pipe in the middle of the yard away from trees. One squirrel learned to climb the pole so I greased it with Vaseline. I still can picture him running up about half way, and then sliding back down like a miniature, furry fireman. After a number of failed attempts, he got even by blatantly grabbing and eating the ripe peaches on the tree next to our kitchen window. I do believe he smiled the whole time...

 

There is much we can learn from squirrels. They teach us to plan ahead, to store our energy for times of need, to help us get through the bad times and to prepare for the future. Prepare for seasonal changes; in periods of plenty save a little something. The squirrel's stash is no guarantee, however, because sometimes others rob the goods or they forget where they hid them. And squirrels sometimes go way overboard with their saving; reasonable saving and hoarding are not the same thing. For anyone who, like a squirrel, has been hoarding things - be prepared to release and let go.

 

Go to the ant, you sluggard;

consider its ways and be wise!

It has no commander,

no overseer or ruler,

yet it stores its provision in summer

and gathers its food at harvest.

Proverbs 6:6-8

Then he said to them, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." - Luke 12: 15

 

For Previous Posts on Squirrels,

click on the following:

Guilty By Association

Circus Admission: Sunflower Seeds

Entertaining Strangers
So Go Sow!

Odd Man Out

Odd Man Out noun:  a person who differs from the other members of a group.

I only noticed it recently, looking out our second-floor bedroom window as I do first thing every morning. I enjoy looking out, checking on the current weather, the temperature, the subtle change of seasons reflected in the surrounding vegetation. That morning, well beyond what we consider summer, it stood out like a bright pink sore thumb. A lone kousa dogwood bloom, at the tiptop of a delicate branch, blooming away like it was the most natural thing in the world - never mind that it was surrounded by leaves gradually turning color and bright red fruits poking straight up as they do. What!? Certainly this bloom was terribly confused...

 

 

We planted this tree some years ago after seeking one that would provide blooms, fall color, something to attract birds, and not grow too tall. It has met all of our expectations and more, especially the bright pink blooms that begin appearing in late spring/early summer and last a good month or more. But this is the first time it has ever had a bloom in the fall, at least that we have ever noticed.

Weather-wise, it has been an unusual year many places so that might account for this anomaly somewhat. There was one other similar incident this year when our magnolia bloomed a second time in late summer. I don't know for sure, but I assumed the blooming was in response to a rather severe pruning I had given it. But now with this single dogwood bloom, I have to wonder.

As we all know, there are always exceptions to any rule, and nature is full of anomalies. Indeed, there are times we each can feel like the odd man out. From the time we are small, most of us are told that we don't need to always follow the crowd; that we should think for ourselves and become our own person is often drilled into our heads. We all learn, however, that going against the flow can be a difficult and challenging route. Young children want to be liked and accepted; going against the majority can result in uncomfortable comments and behaviors towards those who are different. Many just find it easier to give in and go along. For teens, it's all about fitting in and finding out who they are. A mean-spirited dig or being shunned can feel like the ultimate rejection. Young adults are still trying to find their niche and the work of finding their adult role in life can seem overwhelming at times. Often, they last thing they want is to stick out as being very different - even the "different" ones hang out together. This insecurity with not falling in line is not something we necessarily out-grow as adults, either. Politicians and businesses pander to the masses for a very good reason - more often than not, it works.

 

 

As I consider this lone dogwood bloom, still blushing rosily against the backdrop of dark trees, I see what an extraordinary statement it makes. It attracts my attention because it is different, standing alone when the others have all gone. It boldly takes a stand against the season and serves a purpose of providing food for the late-season insects. Are there risks for this late-bloomer that stands alone? Yes, I suppose there are, but in the greater scheme of things I believe it is well worth it - for each of us.
 

 

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is--his good, pleasing and perfect will.   - Romans 12:2