Originally written for Nevada Rancher (June 2020)
My mother-in-law was raised on a sheep ranch. Her dad and three sisters tended, gathered, lambed, marked and raised thousands of sheep. By time I met her though, thirty odd years ago, she had around 300 of the gals in her flock. I always thought they were “cute”, like pets. Back then, I didn’t realize how deep her roots ran in the sheep industry. Her great, great uncle had brought some of the first sheep into far west Texas. At the time, it was frowned on by this establishment, namely cattle ranchers and he quickly ended up in jail. Cattle ranchers, in fact thought of sheep ranchers as a lowly sort. “They’ll ruin the country!”, is what they’d say. Regardless, he had one of the first sheep ranches in this part of Texas. They managed hundreds of sections, and had thousands of sheep. Quite an accomplishment for a newbie to cattle country.
As I learned more about sheep from my mother-in-law, I could see her love for her lambies (that’s what she called them), and I began to see what was involved in being a Shepherdess. Her sheep knew her voice and within a seconds notice, would cock their heads in her direction and run towards her. She had a name for most everyone of them. She knew each of their stories. Which lamb was born the morning it was ten degrees. The twins, that nearly took the life of their mom. The one that wouldn’t nurse.
It doesn’t end their though, she would looked for them if they didn’t come into the pens at night. Flashlights, spotlights, and her pickup truck driving through the pasture as she called until they were found.
During lambing season she would often mix up bottles for midnight and 3 a.m. feedings for her lambs. Heating lamps and plywood sheets to block the wind and bedding, made a warm environment on cold Winter mornings. And she’d cry if even one didn’t make it.
I still remember one she named Shaky, that was born with some defects that made her legs weak and wobbly…hence the name. My mother-in-law also known as Grammy, would pay special attention to her. Feeding her extra when out doing chores or gathering eggs. She’d gather her up and talk to her, reassuring her she was valued in her eyes. Shaky, like some of her other bottle lambs stayed on the bottle much longer then they should have. They were her babies, no matter how big they got.
In January, my mother-in-law died and at her service, so many had gathered to remember her..so many in fact, it was standing room only and those who couldn’t fit in the sanctuary stood in the hall. I could see the couple she helped financially last year, when he couldn’t work due to health reasons. Amongst the crowd, many college kids who had worked for them at the ranch,she fed and counselled them on living right. I saw friends she had made meals for when their love ones had died or were sick. I saw the single man who needed someone to watch his daughter so he could work, Grammy did so and refused to take a dime. I saw her friends that she faithfully prayed for. The special attention she had paid to others was the same attention and care she gave to her sheep. I saw a Shepherdess in my mother-in-law and I felt proud to be under her care.
My husband, a cowboy pastor, did his mother’s service. It was probably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. I squeezed his hand tightly before stepping out of the pickup. We prayed he’d be able to make it through. I was not surprised to see God faithfully answer like many times before….he delivered one of the most passionate, heart felt messages I had ever heard him preach.
It came as no surprise that my husband, her youngest son would deliver a message about Rachel, a Shepherdess from the Bible found in Gen. 29:9. She was tending to her father’s sheep when she met her future husband Jacob. The description fit her perfectly. I also learned that in Biblical times young girls start tending sheep when they were eight to ten years old. She learns to take on her responsibilities for the family livestock, like many ranch kids do today, and like my mother-in-law did back then. Shepherding is not an easy task and some are good at it while others are not.
We often forget that the Lord is our Good Shepherd. We forget the care He shows to each of us. We forget He knows each of our stories and we also forget that He’s the one that leaves the ninety nine to come and look for the one (Matt. 18:12) because of the value He places on each of us. A shepherd cares for His sheep and they know His voice (John 10:27-28). A voice that brings comfort, because we are found. A voice that reminds us that He really knows us personally, down to the number of hairs on our head (Luke 12:7). A shepherd that keeps watch for our well being, feeds us richly from His Word and physically as well. “I shall provide all your needs according to my riches in glory..” Phil. 4:19
Lately, there has been such discouragement in our Country. There has been job loss and sickness. There has been confusion and lies. We like sheep go astray and panic. However, no matter what is happening today as you read this, we know one thing we can count on for sure…we can tune our ear to that of our Good Shepherd. If we would quickly caulk our head His direction and run to Him, we will have everything we need.
I will leave you with this, just in case you are wondering. “Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you”. Joshua 1:5
Thank you for reading…the cowboy pastor’s wife
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