The Hog Island Sheep Part 1

Three weeks ago I responded to a general Farm and Garden CraigsList posting asking about six sheep. "Good home needed, price negotiable." I described our home - 4-H family dedicated to rebuilding a rare breed,large pasture, caring shepherds. The person who owned the sheep called me shortly thereafter, describing the six animals he needed to find a good home for...a near-extinct breed of sheep called "Hog Island." We would be, he thought, the perfect family.

My Japanese friend Yuko thought that this was a very practical way to find the right home for such valuable animals. I'd compare it to the method used by Willie Wonka in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Focus first on integrity rather than the value of the gift. Focus on logistics later. (She also guessed that maybe I was chosen because of my lineage back to the Mayflower." Probably not.) :)

I'm still in a state of shock, quite frankly, over the "burden" (the privilege, really) we now have to care for these creatures. They arrived just in time for W, who is now 8 (the official coming-of-shepherd-age in these parts), to take ownership.

All seven (yes, seven, the final count after unloading the truck into our pens) were given to us "free of charge" and free of conditions regarding selling, butchering, breeding or housing.

They just spent a year at a research facility, being tested and harvested, in preparation for the possible reality of their extinction. I'm fascinated by the details in their lab reports - how many embryos were frozen, what diseases they are resistant to, what was discovered in their blood draws, etc.

They are surprisingly docile and affectionate for having run "hog wild" for hundreds of years. Yet, their personalities (and their appearances) are vastly different from the other breed we care for.

Their survival and their peaceful, trusting nature (along with "no strings attached" gift from the Dempsey family) has me thinking about Jesus, our Good Shepherd, in brand new ways.

Welcome "Betsy" "Martha," "Patrick," "Fraggle," "Belle," "Eva," and "Paris."

Changed for Good

(Glinda):
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

Songs from the Broadway musical "Wicked" were very popular this year, appearing on students' Ipods and in the set lists for year-end performances. Our own High School Choir performed both a "Wicked" medley and this song, "Changed for Good."

I've been thinking on the lyrics lately, reminiscing about people who have influenced my own life (for better or worse).

I posed the question at the dinner table. It was interesting to hear my husband mention an 8th grade teacher who, in guy speech, "kicked him in the butt" (this being a good thing.)

Who will these people be for my children, I wonder. Who were the history makers in your life?

You're Never Fully Dressed Without A...

I use my IPad at work to listen to music on Saturdays, when my staff is off and the office is quiet.

It's loaded with the boys' music right now, as they "owned" the IPad for the last year or so.

I just let it play, listening to their playlists.

Then suddenly I have earworms that I don't recognize, like songs from "Annie." I'm dressing for church on Sunday, trying to place, and finish the line from a song,"You're Never Fully Dressed Without A ______."

A bowtie? A pinky toe ring?

As I'm drying my hair, wrapped in a towel, my  little boy throws open the bathroom door to show me a smooshed black ant.

Really?! I grumble inside but say, "oh. Cool." And then urge him back out through the door.

My toenail polish smudges when I put on my sandals. I truly feel there's nothing to wear in my clothes closet. I'm headed to a bridal shower after church...I'd like to look clean and pressed.

Instead, I'm simply, as a Boy Mom, Never Fully Dressed.

Later at the shower Sara, the bride to be, agrees to wear a crown of fruit to go with the theme of the party. We battle strong winds to keep the garden tent in place. Our paper plates and napkins blow away; drinks spill.

But still we smile. That's it!  The word to the song! "You're Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile."

You can hear our Pastor's Sunday School Lesson on "Encouraging Words" (It's a really good one!) At www.eastshelbychurch.com

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This Summer...The Sweet Life

Song, I'll Stay With You
By Cadia
(I can't seem to make links work, today. I can't copy or paste. And I'd planned on writing about things being "simpler and easier these days. Maybe not technology)

Life seems a little bit easier this summer.
We are getting more done around the farm. Not a lot, but more.

Yesterday we expanded the pasture and I ripped wallpaper off of the dining room walls. Today I picked out a color for the paint!

Last year I was on my feet at work and my shifts varied. There wasn't much left of me once I arrived home. It was difficult to make plans.

The summer before that were working through the process of selling the cottage. We are still managing three properties, but there's somehow less to manage...this year, for a change, there's only one lawn to focus on (for the first time in over 20 years).

I think God knew just how much we could handle then, and now. As I'm mowing and planting these days, I'm enjoying the sweetness of a little bit slower pace.

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"Uncle"

Amid the concerts, practices, and parades, I've had two things on my mind.

1. It's so very sweet to spend time with my cousins. Their father was one of my favorite uncles and, as children, we shared many adventures, mostly by the lake. Now, they are aunts and uncles to my children...fixing their training wheels, listening to their college plans, or setting fire to a pile of old porch wood they had torn down together.

I'm grateful that, despite the fact that we live many miles apart, we are still a family.

2.I lost my Mom two years ago. She was someone who gave me solid parenting advice, who checked in on us during severe weather events, and who always asked if there was something we needed when she was heading to the store.

Perhaps because she used to say, "Good job," I'm struck when I hear this (once in a great while) from an older woman. And it reminds me of how much I miss hearing it from her.

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"I Wanna Be Like You"

I'd like to consider where we are, musically, as a family.

N, who is 15, entered a solo festival this past weekend. He had to travel by bus for a couple of hours, and then sing, accompanied by a piano, in front of a judge. He had chosen a piece that was rated "level 5" in difficulty. The highest difficulty rating is 6, usually reserved for college musicians. He scored a 100%!!! One of his peers, a fellow high school student from our home town (daughter of a Grammy winner), brought the judge to tears with her beautiful voice and flawless performance.

N's Mens Select Ensemble will sing with/for a prestigious Music School that is performing in our town this weekend.

W, who is 8, recently started to take piano lessons from the wife of a local youth pastor. She happens to be the same piano teacher for the children of the above-mentioned Grammy winner also (although I'm not trying to play the 7 steps removed game, I promise).

On the first day she presented W with three lesson books and a rigid practice schedule. Since he is also enamored of athletics, I wasn't sure about that jagged little practice pill. Amazingly, he loves it! And, he has asked his older brother to show him how to compose music on the computer.

His older brother (J, 17) had to create two "fake" emails in order to register a second and a third "Note Flight" account that he uses for composition. He has written pages and pages of scores. Just yesterday J took the AP exam in Music Theory (and just today he announced that he is currently first in his class. Woo hoo!)

W, the 8 year old, has been invited to play in the church orchestra for the first time (his two older brothers already play in the "Band of Renown." W might play the "tangerine," as he has been prone to say. (the tambourine)

This house full of musicians is, well, loud. When I came home this afternoon W was banging on the drums (wearing ear protection, phew!). I could hear the drums as I drove in. Then, when I got out of the car, up the steps, and into the kitchen, he popped out from behind the counter and yelled, "boo," as if I couldn't tell by the drums that he was home.

In the car we listen to show tunes and Disney, which leads me to my last thought.

I've often wondered what other mothers, especially those who have parented famous musicians, have endured. I enjoy imagining the home of The Sherman Brothers, for instance.

I Wanna Be Like You by The Jungle Book

Now I'm the king of the swingers
Oh, the jungle VIP
I've reached the top and had to stop
And that's what botherin' me
I wanna be a man, mancub
And stroll right into town
And be just like the other men
I'm tired of monkeyin' around!

Oh, oobee doo
I wanna be like you
I wanna walk like you
Talk like you, too
You'll see it's true
An ape like me
Can learn to be human too

"He LOves His Life"

At the end of the semester we run oral presentations in class. Many students talk about their families while they show pictures in a slide show.

This year one particularly beautiful young lady (she remindsme of a young Janis Joplan with wild blind hair), showed the class a picture of her siblings.

The slide came up and it was as if a strong wind blew over all of the guys in the class. They all lost their balance.

Lined up were five stunningly attractive sisters.

I asked what life was likefor her father, thinking he must constantly be on guard.

"Oh, " she replied assuredly, "he loves his life."

She said it as if she had heard him say the same. No sarcasm. No pride. Just a genuine adoration and sense of gratitude.

I hope that I reflect, and say, the same. In spite of the messes and the frequent small frustrations, I LOVE my life.

I love my family, my job, and this country. I am truly blessed.

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