Silent Night, Holy Night...

 I wrote this on February 2^nd, 1985 – it wasn’t Christmas Eve but I remember that the visit to the barn and shed gave me a feeling for what it might have been like in the stable on that special night so long ago.  I used the idea for a children’s message I did at our church on December 3^rd, 2003.

2:00AM – Barn Check

Some people would say I’m absolutely crazy and probably I am.  It’s two in the morning, six below zero and I’ve been running around outside, snowmobile suit over pajamas, playing shepherdess.  There’s no way I could go through the night without one barn check.  Big Mama, my 3 year old Columbian ewe, is huge, her bag shows signs of enlargement and I know her time is near.  As usual, I’ve been overanxious and during the last week I’ve been sure that she was ready to give birth at least ten times.  Waiting is very hard.  She looks so uncomfortable and I’m not a patient person.  I want to see those lambs and know all is going well but being a shepherd forces me into patience – slow down – let nature have its way… 

There is something soothing about going into the barn at night.  I don’t enjoy getting out of a warm bed – pulling on my snowmobile suit and boots or facing that first blast of cold air but once out, my mood changes and my spirits lift.  The snow crunches under my boots, shadows from the bright moon are all around.  The dog greets me and begs to be let out to play but not tonight Maxi and I go right into the barn.  The pig is hiding under the straw and the sheep are huddled together.  I make a quick check – one ewe, Patch, will be ready soon but not now.  I scratch my cat, turn off the light and move over to the sheep shed.  The sheep are startled but I talk to them as I enter and they calm down.  Big Mama looks more sunken in the hips – seems to be breathing harder.  I’m sure she’ll deliver soon.  I stand and watch for signs of discomfort, the sound of her breathing and the cud-chewing of the other ewes has a quieting effect on me.  It’s so peaceful – any discomfort or anxiety I had is gone. The sheep will deliver when ready but not tonight. 

I say goodnight to my ewes and walk back to the house.  The glow of the light from our kitchen window welcomes me and when I open the door, I feel the warmth of our woodstove.  I’m wide awake and so I sit down and write this journal entry and my final thought before I go back to bed, is of this old Christmas Carol – “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright…sleep in heavenly peace”.