Redemption

Without the stress of managing an untrustworthy ram and the burden of two escape-artist ewes lifted, came a resurgence of breathing room. And with that margin came clarity, creativity, and solutions. I could now see a myriad of ways we might have addressed the challenges we faced without selling the girls. I stand by selling Vlad—having an unsafe animal on the property was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

But the girls had found a wonderful new home with our friends. The question that remained was: how did I move forward? What would having sheep again look like?

With two big family vacations planned for April and May, and fences to replace or repair, it was clear that we probably wouldn’t have sheep this year. More likely, we’d be looking at next year’s lambing season—a whole year away. How disappointing.

So, I began to plan. What would it actually take? How much would it cost? What exactly would having sheep demand of us?

I realized I didn’t need to fix the entire five-acre perimeter right away—just the two sides where the girls had been escaping. That was only half the work and half the cost. I also knew we’d need temporary, emergency solutions for unexpected situations: collars and leads for each sheep, so they could be contained on our property if necessary.

Another thought occurred to me: it had taken our first flock almost a year to find the weak spots in our fences. If we got a lamb today, we’d likely have about a year before fences became a problem again. In other words, we could pace ourselves, focusing on the most critical sides and spreading the work—and cost—over time.

Then an idea sparked a flicker of hope. What if Cho or Luna had a boy? My friend was only keeping the girls, and we had agreed that if they ever decided they didn’t want Cho or Luna anymore, we’d have the first option to buy them back. I also requested that if either ewe were pregnant, we could have first choice of any lambs they didn’t want. Suddenly, it clicked: what if I could have one of Luna’s or Cho’s sons? That would create a bridge between our first flock and our next—a tangible fruit of all our hard work from the first year.

I asked my husband and my friend, and both agreed. Now it was just a matter of chance: between the two ewes, would we get a ram lamb? I expected each to have one lamb for their first pregnancy, and we didn’t yet know whether Luna was pregnant, so the odds were about fifty-fifty.

Then, on March 3, I received a text: “Twins!”

I continued reading: “…this little guy…”

A boy! And then I wondered: “…and a ____??”

I couldn’t believe it.

We were about to meet the lambs on their birthday when a text came through: “Both babies are rams!” Once we arrived, my friend smiled and said, “You can have your pick!”

I was in awe. Two boys. One choice.

That morning, as I listened to The Bible Recap while reading Numbers 21–22, I found myself relating strongly to Balaam. God had told him to go with Balak, who wanted him to curse the Israelites. Along the way, his donkey repeatedly refused to move. Each time, Balaam struck her—until, on the third time, God opened the donkey’s mouth to speak: “What have I done to you, that you have struck me these three times?” The donkey had been protecting him from the Angel of the Lord, who was standing in the way, blocking his path. It was perplexing: God had told Balaam to go, yet He had also blocked his path.

As Tara-Leigh Cobble points out, God may have been less concerned with Balaam’s actions than with his heart. “It’s possible that the offer of more money could have swayed him and led him to curse Israel instead of bless them as God had commanded; this experience was all part of God’s plan to bless Israel.”

Now here’s the kicker, as TLC goes on to say:

“[God] didn’t change the course of the journey…
Balaam just needed rebuking along the way.
He needed his heart to be aligned with God’s mission.”

Oof…as I scribbled in my TBR journal: “Oh Lord, that hits home today. Are you not changing the course of my journey? Do I just need some rebuking along the way?”

That night at church, a teaching on Jonah reinforced this thought.

The key question was: “What if we don’t obey God’s calling?”

The teacher offered several possible outcomes:

God might let us go astray. We might involve others in our sin.
God might use others to correct us. He might let us suffer.
Or… He might redeem us and lead us back to our calling, just as He had with Jonah.

As I sat in church, anticipating the conversation with my husband about which of Cho’s boys we would choose to restart our flock, these thoughts resonated in my heart: What if God wasn’t changing my course? What if He did want me to continue on with Potter’s Sheep? What if, like Balaam, I just needed some rebuking along the way? What if—even though I hadn’t obeyed in waiting for His timing—like Jonah, He was redeeming me and leading me back to my calling?

As Easter approaches, I’m reminded once again that God is in the business of resurrecting what has died, redeeming what has been broken, and restoring what has been lost.