When the Thorn Remains
The garden outside our Welsh cottage is small but lovely. However, interspersed among the beauty are thorns. Nasty, prickly thorns that seem to appear from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
A few days ago, Tess came bounding into the house from her garden adventures, but instead of her usual exuberance, she limped across the floor, frantically licking her front paw. Jason scooped her up immediately, cradling her like a baby to examine the source of her distress.
"There it is," he announced, pointing to an enormous thorn embedded deeply in the pad of her paw. "This is going to hurt, girl."
As if understanding his words, Tess began to squirm and whimper, but Jason held her firmly. With one swift movement, he extracted the thorn. Tess yelped, then immediately relaxed in his arms.
Planting the Seeds of Peace
I have a brown thumb. Actually, that's being generous. It's more like a thumb of death when it comes to plants. I've given up trying to grow anything because no matter how carefully I follow the instructions or how diligently I water and tend, most plants barely last a week before keeling over. My friends and family have learned not to gift me plants anymore, having witnessed too many botanical tragedies. Even my attempt at growing a supposedly unkillable miniature rosebush ended in disaster. (Who knew they could actually shrivel up and die from too much attention?)
Yet, despite my gardening failures, James 3:18 has been lingering in my thoughts lately: "And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace."
The imagery here is powerful. Peace isn't described as something we manufacture in a crisis.
Are You a Bummer Lamb?
I was watching an interview with Christian author Sheila Walsh the other day when she began talking about "bummer lambs." Having lived in rural Wales for a few years, I've learned quite a bit about sheep farming, but this particular term was new to me.
A bummer lamb, as it turns out, is a lamb that has been rejected by its mother. Sometimes, the ewe has twins and can only feed one. Sometimes, the mother dies during birth. And sometimes, for reasons only the sheep know, a mother simply refuses to accept her baby.
When this happens, the shepherd steps in. He takes the rejected lamb into his home and hand-feeds it. He keeps it warm by the fire, wraps it in blankets, and tends to its every need. The shepherd essentially becomes the lamb's parent, giving extraordinary care and attention to this tiny creature.