Lentangle...

Lentangle…

I always loved the stories Jesus told that had to do with farming.  As the child of a farmer, I understood those stories because I saw my daddy go looking for a lost sheep…well, not really. It was a lost sow and the neighbor had called to say if he didn’t come get her out of the cornfield, his family would be eating pork next year.  But, daddy and mama both cared for their cows just like the good shepherd in the Bible cared for his sheep.

 Twice a day at least, daddy would check his cows, feed them, watch over the birthing mothers and if he heard the coyotes call at night, he got up and went to them. Mama tells the story of daddy waking up at midnight, grabbing his rifle, running out the door in his underwear, calling her to drive the truck. As she drove the truck to the barn in the back pasture, he loaded his rifle and rolled down the window (there were no electric windows in our farm truck). They drove towards the barn and coyotes began piling out like clowns in a car. Daddy began firing into the pile and managed to miss every one. Good shepherds do what they have to do to protect their sheep.

Last night was a good shepherd night for us. When we went to bed, we heard a cow bawling. She stopped for awhile so I went to sleep. At midnight, the magic hour, Michael woke me and said the cow was still bawling. He was going to check on her. I turned on the light as he left and waited, listening to the Kubota crawl through the mud, all the cows bawling for a midnight snack, and the plaintive cry of a calf. Michael called saying he needed help. One of the calves was caught behind the fence unable to join his mama Noel. So I threw on a coat over my pajamas, pulled on my muck boots (did I mention it has rained for the past two days?) and drove down to meet Michael at the leaning barn. I drove the Kubota keeping Michael and Noel in the light while he drove her down the fence line. The baby followed mama to an open gate and a joyful reunion ensued, full of milk sucking and nuzzling and licking. What had been an irritating interruption was transformed into a beautiful night.

I forget sometimes as I wade through the muck and mire and darkness of Lent, that I am both the good shepherd and the lost sheep. Not only am I tended to but I am called to tend to others. The darkness I carry within is a part of everyone I meet. When I wade into my dark side, I can choose to have compassion for others who bear the same burden or I can choose to be judge and jury. Like the men who drug that woman caught in adultery to Jesus, stones in hand, ready to kill her, I can rise up in righteous indignation with the best of them. By the way, where was the man? Or, I can choose to be a good shepherd, gentle with myself and others as we all stumble towards the lights of Home.

Dear One, I need your tender care during this season of darkness. Everywhere I turn, I see my shortcomings, my failures, my sins. The mirror of Lent shows every wrinkle and spot on my soul. Don’t let me be too hard on myself or others, Lord. When I get wound up, remind me to bend down and write in the sand, to take time to see the whole picture of me, not just the parts I keep hidden in the dark. I am a Zentangle, great beauty in the midst of tangled shapes, a small part of your wonderful creation. Could you give me a glimpse now and then, Lord, of who I am becoming? It would help.  Love you…

·         Zentangle… a method of meditative drawing on a small card that provides a visual way to enter the quiet space within.