For Lowdy
The gatekeeper opens the gate, calling to her sheep, who come because they know her voice. In the lambing shed, in the dead of the English winter, the expectant ewes are gathered in to give birth. The little apprentice, only five years old, follows the master, her mother, into the shed to hold vigil for those mothers to be. Her parents were shepherds, and she was too, she imagined. She watched carefully all night as her mother worked, following her lead on which mother needed help. In this birthing dance, a young child has utility: When a lamb is breach, only a small hand can go inside of her, turning the lamb so that she can arrive safely.
Watching her mother hurriedly taking lambs to their mother’s teat, a knowing was born within her: There was a more loving way to do this. More tenderness is needed for this introduction. This is what the Great Mother taught her. She held out her stuffed animal, Baa Lamb, up to the noses of the newborn lambs, introducing them and then playing. Not bothered by who was real and who was not, she saw no difference between the realms. This was her apprenticing role. One holy expression of both lamb and shepherd…in a small girl.
When the young rabbi tells the story of the good shepherd, it’s the sound of The Voice that rings so clearly.* As intimate as a kiss and the calling of your name. His voice was, in that moment, meant to convey an eternal covenant, a gentle reminder of whose we are. That’s how the beloved calls. When you hear that tender voice, you’re safe. You’re home.
It is Love that shepherds all of us newborns.
