“To Know the Pain of Too Much Tenderness”*

They say when a sheep goes down they are usually gone in a couple of days. That has not been my experience. My ewes are over ten years old now and I am letting them live out their lives on the farm. I have found that sheep, as with many ruminant animals, enjoy the company of their offspring and stay close together throughout their lives, if given the chance.

So it has been with Madonna and her lamb, MissTery who was born on the hillside one sunny spring day twelve years ago. The two were inseparable. So when Madonna, so named because of her singing voice, went down early in the winter, we made an area exclusively for them. 

Through the bitter cold, they shared the space and hay and corn. Both ate ravenously. And while I knew Madonna’s legs would never hold her upright again, I made a promise to care for her to the end. Warm water with a bit of molasses was a special treat on frigid days. It took two of us to move her to cleaner hay and then as she grew lighter, only one. 

Apparently she was waiting for spring to take her leave, confident that her offspring could carry on without her. I marveled at the wonder of being able to witness their closeness to one another. And I was grateful for my own compassion that grew as the days wore on. Tenderness and kindness are incredible human gifts and like all living things they grow stronger with use and care.

We always have a choice. What we will do in times of hardship. What we will do for others in need. We are being driven to be kind and to help one another, if we so choose. Choose love.

*The title of this piece comes from a line in Kahlil Gibran’s “On Love” from The Prophet