Shepherdess

I don't really remember having a so-called hobby growing up. I reckon I did.  I reckon everyone does. I was involved in things I loved. I started twirling baton at age four and continued every year through high school graduation at age 17.  I loved it. I started piano lessons at six years of age, also continuing until I was 17. I began singing in church at four years old and haven't quit yet. My love of music has grown to include flute, string bass, and hammered dulcimer, all of which I still pursue to some extent. I became a competitive dancer at 20, learned to milk a cow in my 30's, and began writing from my heart and soul in my 40's. These are all things I love to spend time doing. 

I think some things can be more of a hobby than other things we love to do. Hobbies don't necessarily take huge amounts of our time or money. Sometimes they do. And sometimes those things we love become more than a hobby. More than just a weekend project every now and then. More than a temptation sitting in the spare bedroom that we might get to some day or one of those things we enjoy for a season but never seem to finish or perfect. 

Over the last decade and a half of my life, I've come to realize one of those loves. Something that moves my very existence. Something that proves my very existence. Something that gives me a future and a hope.  (Jeremiah 29:11)  The rock that keeps me grounded and gives me the desire to do what I do every day.  Every single day.  The one thing that gives me a peace and satisfaction like no other when I lay down at night and think of all I accomplished throughout the day. The one thing that keeps me awake at night when catastrophe or things beyond my control happen.  It's in my blood, it fuels my desires to better myself.  I long to continually learn and teach myself and in return, educate others of what I have learned.  It's not a hobby. It's one of the reasons I believe I was placed where I am today. Why I've experienced the life I have. Why I've met the people that have crossed my path.  Why, even through the curveballs life has thrown at me I am still driven with an even stronger desire to accomplish and share these great things. It's my passion. Maybe even my life's purpose. 

Taylor and I have been dealing with a major issue on the farm. A serious one. We've had a predator issue that we're having trouble getting ahead of.  There are critters of the night that seem to think the flock of sheep is nothing more than an all-night smorgasbord. But before anyone gets all excited about the critters of the night just wanting to eat and feed their babies, too, this post is not about that. Hang with me. 

Because of the issues at hand and because we care about our animals and what happens to them, we've been sacrificing our own comfort and sleep to spend our nights out in the pasture in the middle of the flock. We've spent many a night on the ground, in a lawn chair or in the truck keeping watch over our flocks. Old time shepherding, you might say.  When we're out, our efforts pay off. We're not really good at being extremely quiet and we're definitely not as sly as the fox that's likely watching us, but our presence seems to keep the predators at bay. 

Problems like this that arise on a farm never go unnoticed, but can sometimes escalate quickly before you realize you have a serious issue. The issue can become financially devastating overnight, not to mention the sheer heartache of it all.  Losses can take years to overcome and sometimes can never be regained. 

I've had a handful of folks, mostly city folk, (and I say that lightly. I'm merely referring to those who have no experience or real knowledge of farm life), that have basically asked us when we're quitting. What's it gonna take for us to sell out and move to the city?  How many livestock lost is too many?  Why not let the "big" farmers handle it, cut our losses and continue working a "real" job like everyone else?

To put one of those questions to rest, one livestock animal lost is too many.   To answer the other questions, read on. 

Remember that desire, that purpose, that passion I spoke of earlier?  I have a desire to do what I'm called to do. A desire to do good things.  Big things. Not necessarily by the world's  standards, but big in the eyes of kindness and love. I believe I was put here for a purpose. A purpose of loving and serving and being a rich caretaker of this precious world we were given. No, not monetarily rich. Rich in awe and wonder of the beauty and magnificence of God's creation. Rich in the understanding of a humble calling to be able to be touched by the simple blessings of being a caretaker of the world around me. I have a passion for the wellbeing of the animals and land I am blessed to have charge over. I have a passion to raise and care for these things entrusted to me in a way that brings honor to the God of the universe. I believe God made things to work together in a natural, symbiotic way and it's not only my responsibility but my passion to enrich and encourage those natural relationships. I have a passion to share my experiences and learning with the world. I have a passion to leave things a little better and to help educate the next generation. 

So when I'm asked what the defining moment is that will make me decide to sell out, chuck it all  and move to the city, you have to understand one thing. That question is not even in my thought process. It doesn't exist.  You see, this farming venture is more than a hobby.  More than a weekend project. It's a responsibility that I believe was written in the stars for me long ago. It's my desire.  My purpose.  My passion.  And my prayer is that I will be able to fulfill that purpose with passion and desire and never lose sight of the hope and faith that keeps me doing what I do.