A Shepard

Weekly my oldest granddaughter comes to our home and visits. We have a wonderful time doing everything she wants to do. Grandparents will give her undivided attention and lots of love. As we talked this week I told her what it was like to visit my grandmother. She lived on a farm without running water, plumbing, or electricity. I have fond memories of falling asleep in front of the pot belly stove as everyone talked.

My favorite thing to do at the farm was take care of the lambs. Sheep are funny in how they care for their young. If twins are born the ewe will only care for one of the lambs and push the other lamb away. If it rains and newborn lamb gets wet the ewe will not feed the lamb because she doesn’t recognize it as her own. When these things occurred my grandmother would rescue the lambs. They were kept in a safe enclosure and she would feed them twice a day. That was my favorite job, feeding the lambs.

We fed them with large glass bottles with extra large nipples on them. My grandmother would mix the formula and pour it into the bottles. Then we would hold the bottles as the hungry lambs ate. We were given strict instructions to not cuddle the lambs or they would think we were their mother. When that happened the lambs would cry for us and would follow us anywhere we went. We would be their shepherd.

I notice my granddaughters following me. I walk with a limp because of my arthritis. When my granddaughters follow me they walk with a limp too. They love to put on my reading glasses when they work with me. Unlike the doggy lambs I do cuddle with these special little lambs. I want them to follow me in good ways.