Grief and Gratitude

Today is another beautiful day in paradise.  The sun is shining and it is bright against the snow.

All is peaceful; the guardian dogs are quietly laying amongst the sheep and goats.  Then, I hear the sound of a tractor coming down the drive.  One of my neighbours has stopped by in his John Deere.  I have previously learned that in Farmington, one should always be dressed  appropriately to do your morning chores, as you never know when someone should just pop by for a chat...I cheerfully greeted my neighbour and anticipated some interesting community news.  However, his face told me that he came for another reason: he told me that he had come to give me bad news.  My first thought was that a neighbour had fallen sick or had been hurt on the farm.  No, it was more personal than that...was it my son working on a gas site?  Or my husband in a highway accident?  Finally, he told me that we had a dead horse in the field.  It didn't register, because only 15 minutes ago, I had seen our horse herd travelling the pasture fence line.  He told me that the horse was laying dead next to the feeder. We have not been spared the tragedy of losing a horse (and the bigger the animal the bigger the heart break!).  My heart skipped a beat.  As I looked out onto our field, I could see that the horses had moved back to the hay and the feeders...I booked it across the field to see who was laying at the feeder.  I could see a chestnut down with stiff legs off the ground....Ace!  All I could think about was how was I going to tell my youngest daughter that her little prized boy was dead? I called to him, but he laid still..no movement.   As I touched him warm in the sun, he stirred.  He was alive!  I burst into grateful tears. Thank the Lord for his mercy and grace!  Then laughter filled my heart.  It has happened before that we have mistaken sleeping horses for illness.  Ace had been laying on a mound of hay that propped his legs up...it truly looked like rigor had set in.  It was so funny, I wish I could have taken a picture of it.  But once he was stirred, he was up.

My neighbour was sorry that he had scared me...and I am grateful that he thought enough to take time to pull up with his tractor (to move the dead body?) and bring me the bad news.  I am grateful that I was spared having to tell my daughter bad news today.  I am grateful that our animals are alive and well.  I am grateful that I am alive and well.  I won't be one of the 10 lepers who forget to be thankful and worship Him who gave them a new life. (Luke 17:11-19). When one considers all the grief and sad things that happen in a life time; we can be all the more grateful for all the good things that we have the privilege to experience.
And here I am grateful.

"Giving thanks always for all things to God and the Father in the name of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." ! Thess 5:18

Wayward Sheep!

It was a Saturday afternoon early in September, 2012,  that I decided it was time to turn our flock of sheep out on the hay stubble of one of our unfenced pastures.  It had been six weeks that our 6 new mature ewes had bonded with our small flock which consisted of 5 Cashmere goats, 2 milking sheep (Ida and Ewenice), an old white faced sheep named Frost and a crooked legged wether sheep named Shellen.

The sheep were happy to be turned out on fresh grass and kicked up their heels as they ran out onto the pasture.  I returned to my kitchen to start preparations for supper, and I could see the little flock slowly mowing down the stubble.

About half hour later, I peeked out my window to check up on the flock and couldn’t see them from my viewpoint.  So I slipped my boots on to get a better look and realized a wind had come up.  The flock was nowhere in sight!  I quickly grabbed a halter and hopped on the first horse I could find.  We booted it across the field, me bareback on a fat red horse of my daughter’s (it was like riding a table—as wide as she was tall!).  We got clear across 30 acres and the sheep droppings left our field and down the road headed west with the wind.  I turned around home in need of more help.  As I just got in to the driveway, a neighbour pulled up in his pickup to tell me the flock was 2 miles down in our neighbour’s pasture still running with the wind.  I enlisted the help of my two girls: one drove me out to the pasture and the other followed on horseback with her best shepherding dog.  My son drove out in the opposite direction to try to cut the flock off and drive them back to us.  Once I got close enough to the flock they turned their heads to me and I called out to Shellen; he heard my voice and turned back to me.  Soon, the rest of the flock followed.    Out on the open field the flock were scattered and distracted, but I was able to find a drainage ditch and drove them quickly back down to our fields.  It made me think of Psalm 23 He guides me along paths of righteousness. Once on our fields, we all could relax. On the way home, I pondered how Shellen had followed me.  We had spent a lot of time together last winter when I had to mend his broken leg.  I spent hours with him.  Bandaging and applying liniment to his limb and praying over him that we wouldn’t have to put him down.  Back in the OT times, sometimes a shepherd would purposely break the limb of a wayward sheep.  Then in the process of caring for this sheep (carrying it on his back until it could walk again) a special bond would be made with the shepherd.  Shellen, my special wether, has proven this to be fact.  He had heard me call and he led the flock back.  The 6 new ewes, had been so skittish, I could not get close enough to them to read their name tags.  They didn’t know me and I didn’t know them.  That began the process for me to develop that special bond with them.  I started by bringing in grain and little treats like bread to them.  In a couple weeks I was able to read all their names: Abba and Aboo (twins—flock leaders gray speckle faced), Polka (white sweet faced), Banjo, Jeannie and Vanessa (black faced and quiet).  Now months later, I call them and they come running.  Aren’t we all like sheep?  Do we listen to the voice of our good shepherd who looks after all our needs? He makes me lie down in green pastures…and He knows me by name.

Now to work on the training of the guardian dogs (Mercy and Goodness aka Georgio and Ted).  LOL!

Crippled Little Sheep

Here is a little miracle:   on Boxing Day  Shellen broke his leg as he scooted underneath a round bale when the tractor was dropping feed in the pen. Fortunately, he didn't break his neck or back.  It made me ill to see his leg broken (literally, I had to put my head between my legs), my first thought was that we would have to put him down, but we are emotionally attached to the big fluff ball. So, we quickly researched the success rate of splinting the leg (yay google!).  We discovered that we may have positive results if the leg was broken below the knee.  This gave us encouragement to do our best to set the leg.  One cowboy friend of ours from the Island told us years ago, "there are only two types of stock: live stock and dead stock, there is no in between".  I spoke to another local rancher friend who told me that sheep either have a will to live or not.  So, once bound Shellen had to choose to live or not.  A couple days later, things did not look well with Shellen's broken leg, it swelled to twice the size and his little bicuspid hoof was splitting apart.  So, I took to soaking his leg daily in liniment or Epsom salts.  Also, his lethargy told me he was in pain, so I gave him Aspirin.  We did this for two weeks.  Through much prayer and supplication, the swelling went down.  After the six week mark, it was obvious that Shellen's leg was healing as he was putting weight on it and getting around the pen just as quick as before.  I decided to take the splint off and see how things looked.  Unfortunately, the leg has healed crooked.  It is not a pretty sight and I feel bad for him.  He will always have a bad limp.  It is a physical reminder of my own brokenness and need for a good shepherd...one who will doctor me and heal me...lead me to still waters and green pastures.

Wayward Pony

My youngest daughter decided to purchase a new pony the other day.  After much searching she found a little gelding with similar breeding to the mare she currently rides and successfully competes on.  Her mare is now six and we have toyed with the idea of breeding her in the future, which means that she will be out of competition for at least a year.  Therefore, Kaitlyn is planning ahead to the day when she will need a replacement for her prized mare. 
Ace, the new boy, is a cute red dun gelding which we picked up from a breeder in Montney. He is a yearling and cutting/reining bred.  Not a runner according to his papers, but as with Kaitlyn's mare he could still turn a can and beat the timer faster than the big runners she has gone against in the barrel races.  At this early in the game, we can't say what his future holds, but he is well built and has a kind eye.  Kaitlyn is infatuated with her new boy and I am glad that this is the kind of boy she is pursuing!
So, day 1 we decided to take out Ace, brush him down and give his feet a little trim.  We wanted to see how much sacking out we needed to do and how much (or how little) handling he has had.  The wind was blowing insanely and it was hard to find a safe place to tie him.  We managed to find a spot along our sheep pen to do some grooming.  Ace was really good considering our Billy goat kept being a pest and checking out what we were doing.  It was obvious that Ace had never been around sheep or goats before, but he was trusting and curious.
Next Evan brought out his yearling stud colt out to introduce the pair and to compare builds for curiosity sake.  Israel was quite taken with Ace, and then the squealing began!  When Evan took Israel away to let him run in a small field, Ace kept his eye on him and called for his new friend.  We thought maybe we could let the two boys play for a while in the field so we set them free.  We did leave Israel's halter and lead rope on in case we needed to grab him quickly if he should not play nicely with Ace.  So, the boys quickly broke out into a lope, with their tails blowing behind them.  They ran around a corner and Ace ran right through our electric wire fence, and kept running up into our back field.  He ran and ran until we could not see hin any longer!! The prized new pony simply ran away!  We couldn't believe our eyes! 
So what did we do?  We chased after him, following his prints in the ice and snow.  We ran until we tasted blood in our mouths.  Beyond our fields and neighbours field lies the highway!  We had to find our pony before he hit the highway.  When I reached our neighbour's house, I asked if he had seen our runaway, but he had not.  Before I left his property he yelled out to me that the pony was seen on the highway and had run into another neighbours field a kilometer down the road across from a busy intersection.  We were happy to hear that he was found, but the challenge to catch him was now on!    For two hours we tried to lure that pony in with grain.  We cornered him several times and he would cut out and escape.  Finally, I was able to get a hold of our good neighbours and ask for some extra help.  With another experienced hand around, I was hoping we could get this pony caught as we were burning daylight.  I couldn't imagine what we would do once night set in...
About 20 minutes later we got that stinker pony cornered again and with the help of my steer wrestling son he wrangled that pony in and Kaitlyn haltered him up.  It was done!  With a great sigh of relief, thanks to our neighbour and great thanks to God we had our pony back.

And as I drove my vehicle home with the emergency lights flashing the picture I saw before me was a vision of when one of God's children come home.  There in front of me was a picture of Greg (father) holding hands with his daughter as they lead the pony home.  What a feeling of complete joy we all had on a job well done to bring the wayward one home again. It is a picture I will never forget.  The father holding his child's hand as he leads them safely home.

Simple Pleasures

Somedays I feel like we are experiencing a chapter from "Little House on the Prairie".  Living in rural Northern BC is always an adventure: extreme weather combined with unpredictable farm animals equals a life of constant suspense. Help isn't always willing to travel 25 minutes out of town, and so we have relied on our neighbours' experience, ingenuity and way of just making do.  
Today was one of those Pioneer experiences, the winds started in the morning and progressed to nasty gusts over 50km/h.  It wasn't long after we got home from school that the power went out.  A certain wave of pleasure rushed over me as my day's chores simply became much shorter without power.  The daylight was waning and so my girls and I gathered up candles and lit the woodstove fire.  We realized that we didn't have much food resources for supper without power to cook it up.  A quick text  to my hubby and I informed him of our dilemma.  He assured me he would bring home take out  which we could enjoy by candlelight.  The girls and I gathered together near the woodstove and read by candlelight. It was a cozy Little House on the Prairie moment.  An hour later, the big truck pulled in and soon the scenario changed to hustle and bustle.  My superhero hubby began wrangling extension cords, bumbled around in the garage, dusted off his virgin generator and fired it up on the front door step.  He was home to save the day! He came dancing into our living room and  quickly plugged in the TV set! 
And so we enjoyed KFC by candlelight and watched a talent show on tv.  Not quite the picture I had envisioned, but a modern simple pleasure nonetheless!

At the Well...

It was a windy, dry, and sunny day.  I was tired, thirsty and the lineup was long at the local watering hole.  Before me were several men waiting their turn to bring water home for their families.  One of the oddities of rural Dawson Creek life, is water hauling.  Most pickups running around town have water tanks, some small about the size of a large dog house (I call it a "why bother") to very large (completely filling up the truck bed).  Now that my husband works out of town, I now have the priveledge of hauling water as I pass the water station on my way home.  We'll see how convenient this new responsibility is  in winter and -40C!
Today, I resigned myself to enjoy the quiet time before embarking the journey home and all that awaited me there. It was good to reflect on  the day's productivity and God's grace to get me through a task that I didn't have the skills to complete. He provided the help that I needed to get the job done.
When it was my turn to get my tank filled, I succesfully remembered all the steps to fill up without giving myself or other unsuspecting people a cold shower.  When I went to get in the truck, I realized I had locked myself out.  Fortunately, I had enough of an opening in my driver's window to stick my arm through and unlock the door.  Hallelujah was I ever happy!  Yes, little things such as an unlocked door, and a full tank of water showed me God still meets people's needs at the water well. 

Priceless!

  Today was a special day as we were celebrating the 10th anniversary of our Pastors service in our church.  That is pretty cool considering that the average tenure for a North American Senior Pastor is 7.7 years according to Ellison Research in Phoenix.  Maybe because we are Canadian the statistics are better, but I like to think that we have some pretty special people in our ministry.  we dearly appreciate all the hard work and dedication our Pastors have put in to our church (and we've only known them for the last year and a half, nearly since we moved to Dawson Creek).  Our Pastors definately have a shepherds heart: hurting when we hurt, joyful in our victories and the roller coaster in between.  But the one thing that is constant is their unwavering support and love of their congregation.  That kind of love is invaluable and priceless.
  I was also reminded today during our communion service, the great love and sacrifice that Christ gave up for us.  It almost made me laugh during scripture reading as my mind compared my previous nights blog about my crazy obsession and "huge" sacrifice I made to have the object of my affection repaired and restored for further acts of service (see blog "My Crazy Little Addiction").  My "love affair" with the green Miele is a rather nudnik comparison.  What was I thinking at 12am this morning!!
  This morning, I have a renewed and contrite heart for all the sacrificial contributions our Pastoral staff have made, both for me personally, the congregation and the long term vision they have for our community.  To have friends like these are truly without value and "Priceless".