All through the night I thought about lambs.
Or lambing to be specific.
Every time I woke up to roll over or check the clock or to scoot over for a kid climbing in beside me.
Maybe I should have gotten up and walked to the barn to check.
Instead I was just grateful for the warmer weather, and lay in bed wondering who would go next.
It's been almost two weeks since our first farm babies were born. That left eight ewes to go.
Eight is a lot.
Before bed I asked Pete to check on the girls and see if anyone seemed close.
And Sage? He was adamant that he didn't want to go to town today.
He needed today to be a "quiet day on the farm".
Sage was the first out the door this morning, heading down to the barn to feed the bottle lamb from the first lambing.
"If you find any lambs -," I began,
"I'll run full speed to the house!" he said.
And he did.
Three lambs were born last night to one ewe.
One was stillborn, the other two were weak by the time we got to the barn.
It seems adrenaline is the new coffee over here.
So the morning was spent doing all that we could to help them get strong.
Something reminiscent of prayer.
Truly, we don't know if they'll make it.
We can't know.
And I'm thankful to be finding some peace within the uncertainty.
A soft, zen inner voice saying, "What is, is."
That's new for me.
A little Rescue Remedy, a couple of phone calls, and a heap of allowing.
Yeah. And lot less worry.
And so it's easier today.
Easier to let go of the one that didn't live.
Easier to think of what will happen if the weaker one also lets go.
Because the nature of life is death.
Some will make it.
And some won't.
Because I'm realizing that all the Rescue Remedy in the world won't change the outcome of this day.
As long as we keep doing our best, worry will only pull us down.
We have seven ewes to go.
Plus one goat.
And gosh, that's still a lot.
But today it feels a little different.
Today I'm starting to think that maybe we can do it after all.
And yes. What will be will be.
And with that, I'm off to the barn.