The big newborn lamb didn't make it. It died this evening lying on a bed of hay in the cardboard box in the mudroom. Our lives would have been easier if the lamb had just been born dead, we could have buried it, attended to the mother, and gone on with our day. But it was alive and we invested the time and effort to try to keep it so. I wonder what God's roll is in this, as the Bible says a sparrow won't fall to the ground without God's concent.
This compassion and nuturing is part of what makes us human. I find this paradox of life intriguing. How a little creature who lived just briefly over 24 hours and never was able to stand on its own or was even strong enough to nurse from a bottle can consume a share of our time and attention enough to affect our life.
Caring for the lamb reminded me of why Ann is so special. How can you not love someone who works hard all week managing a staff of people and making multi-million dollar decisions yet has enough compassion to spend Friday evening holding a dying lamb on her lap for 45 minutes to ensure it experienced some tender care and comfort during its short life?
If something as simple as a little lamb can have this effect on people maybe we all need to realize how meaningful and impactful we can be to others, even in what may seem to be meaningless routine interactions. It makes me feel grateful for all those in the health care industry, pandemic or not, who devote their career to make the lives of others a little more comfortable.
Photo: storm clouds pass through tranquil skies over the farm this evening.
