She hiked up the overalls that dragged over the boots and tightened the rope she found to use as a belt. Even with the straps of the overalls as tight as they would go, they would still be tripping her up. “If there was ever somebody totally out of their element, it’s me right now. How am I ever going to do all this?” she muttered to herself that first day. She trudged toward the barn, dragging the thick walking stick that refused to fit the small hand sheathed in a 2XL glove.

She was a city girl. She loved visiting her brother on his sheep farm and watching the sheep graze peacefully, but she had no desire to get to know them up close and personal. To be honest, they scared her. Occasionally her brother Jim could get her to pat a little lamb, but that was as far as it went. Jane had abandoned their small hometown for the big city as soon as her young adult self had saved enough money for her first month’s rent. But Jim had fallen in love with farm where he had worked as a teenager, and eventually it became his own.

She smiled as she thought about their differences. He was big and brawny; she was smaller and more delicate. He was a man of the earth, with callused hands and strong arms. She loved her books and Spotify and the coffee shop down the street from her apartment. He was a solitary man, quiet and reserved, while she craved excitement and conversation. Still, the bond between them was steel strong.

Neither had a spouse now. They had both known the grief of a loss–Jim, in the divorce that devastated him and Jane in the cancer that stole the sparkling life she and her husband had planned when it claimed him. In those dark years, the siblings clung together.

Now, they shared a love of laughter, a history, and a deep and abiding faith. So, from time to time, Jim came to the city for an afternoon with Jane. The spindly chairs in the coffee shop creaked under his weight, and he was so visibly awkward that more often she retreated to the farm for a few quiet days of walks and writing while Jim tended the sheep.

Then it happened.

Jim ended up in hospital and it was quickly clear that he would be there for months. What would happen to his flock? Jane felt her stomach churn as he worried. Her knuckles grew white in the heavy silence of the hospital room. ”Are you asking ME to look after them?” she asked.

“Wow, thank you!” he said with obvious relief. “I can tell you everything you’ll need to do.”

“I was just asking, I wasn’t offering!” she thought, but she didn’t have the heart to back out now. She knew it had to be done but, really? She knew nothing about caring for sheep except that it was smelly, and physical and time consuming. But there was no-one else. She loved Jim and he loved his sheep, so she was in for it.

Where to start? “Well,” said Jim, “I know it will feel a little funny, but you’ll need to wear my clothes. Sheep don’t see that well but they have a good sense of smell. If you pull the hat down and wear my clothes, they won’t see the difference. The important thing is that you will smell like me. Oh, and be sure not to talk – they know my voice. If they hear your voice, they will know you are a stranger and run away. They will need to learn to trust you to take care of them, before they will trust your voice.” There were lots of other instructions as well, about food and water, and which field they were to be in and, and…

“Well,” she thought, “No point in procrastinating.” Grasping her courage and her brother’s knobby staff, she hobbled out into the pasture. Clearly, the animals were confused at first. This creature smelled like their shepherd, but something was off. They huddled in a corner of the pasture, obviously wary. Silently, she filled the feed bin and brought fresh water to the trough, then moved away. There was little else she could do at first. The animals refused to come near, so she stood quietly and watched them. The routine of the days grew into weeks. It was funny – she had always thought they all looked pretty much alike, but she was learning that each had a distinct personality and soon she could distinguish one from the other.

Then, one day, a small lamb ventured over to her knee as she rested on a hay bale. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it and the little guy leaned into her. Over the next few days, others joined him until they obviously began to expect her arrival in the field each morning. Without thinking, she began to speak to them softly. At first, they skittered off but they had grown used to her presence, and they knew she cared for their needs, so they didn’t go far. Before long, she found herself calling them each by some silly name, and they began to come when she did.

The clothes were still too big, and the boots gave her blisters. The manicure was a forgotten luxury, and early morning coffee shop hours of writing had become a late night replacement for the TV she no longer watched. She found her heart bonding to the sheep that had fallen into her care, and she knew she was growing to love a life she never would have imagined for herself. What would happen when Jim recovered and returned, she wondered. She reminded herself that she was loving this flock – for him. They belonged to him, not her. Ultimately, he was their shepherd.

The day arrived, and it was Jim who filled the bulky coat. He needed no socks to stuff the boots and the thick staff fit comfortably in his massive hands. With Jane in her own jeans and sweater, they ventured out together to the pasture.

It took only a couple of words- a hearty “Hello guys!” – and the sheep ran to their shepherd, pushing and shoving to get close to him. Some of them trembled with excitement, others almost tripped him up in a jamboree of joy.

Jane looked on, remembering her first stumbling efforts, and all the mistakes she, in her ignorance, had made. She thought of the long process of building trust, of learning the ways of each individual sheep. She thought of the daily calls to her brother, sometimes just to hear his voice and sometimes to ask how she should proceed. She looked up into the cloudless sky and gave thanks for the richness of the bond these days had crafted between her and Jim. She had loved his creatures well–for him, and then for themselves. Presenting a healthy flock to her brother was joy. There was a poignancy, as well, to releasing these sheep back to him. She had loved them well. Yet, her care of them had not been one of an ownership but of a trust. She loved them, but they belonged to their shepherd, not to her. She had been a faithful helper along the way, but in the end, when they heard his voice, they rushed to be near HIM. And that was as it should be.

And we, called to be carers of the sheep for whom the Good Shepherd gave his life, may be as reluctant as Jane. We are told to “put on Christ” - but the garments are clearly too big for our fragile frames. Still, if those garments carry the scent of grace, if we will love and tend and faithfully care for those placed in our pastures, eventually we will earn the trust that allows us to speak the words of the Shepherd. Always, though, we remember that we are temporary caregivers, called to love the ones the Shepherd loves because we love the Shepherd. Always and ever, the sheep are his, and it is his voice that will call them. And, we pray - they will run to greet him, in a jamboree of joy.