Identity: Goatherd

     From the time I was three years old, I knew I wanted goats in my life.  I felt drawn to them.  Perhaps it was from a memory I savored: as a young girl, a great uncle obtained a goat for my brothers and me to "play" with on a summer visit.  Oh... he was a mean little buck--with horns and a temperament that went with those horns.  We named him Jim Jeffcoats!  I cannot recall why that was his name.  And upon reflection, that wasn't the best introduction to goats! He was a bit much for my brothers and me!

    Later in my journey, there was a visit to a Santa's Village.  Perhaps it was there that my love of goats began to be nurtured!  Feeding baby goats with a bottle is a joyous things. Little goats frolic and play and seem so joyous!

And there there was my (almost) obsession with Tasha Tudor; an artist and author.I have always admired her lifestyle.  Tasha milked goats--Nubians!  I was hooked.

I had to wait almost 60 years to realize my own dream of owning goats.  What absolute joy they bring into my life.  Who needs TV when you can be entertained by the antics of goats in the backyard.  To witness birth of kids is one of my greatest delights.  And the milk! Oh fresh milk!  And the cheese we make is a part of our simple lifestyle.  We're not milking now, but we will freshen our goats this year and be back in the milking business next year.

For nearly 20 years, I served the Good Shepherd in active ministry.  This journey took me to many places to tend the sheep.  It was a privilege and delight to serve, and of course, in retirement, I find ways to serve quietly now.

As I reclaim my identity, I am proud to claim being a Goatherd as part of that identity.  Daisy, Lovey, Fiona and Blossom are my sweet herd.  As a Goatherd, I must care for the goats no matter what the weather or my mood-Neither snow or rain nor heat nor gloom of night, our goats must be fed, given fresh water and hay, hooves must be trimmed and coats must be brushed.  Not to mention mucking out the barn from time to time. In the winter and spring of 2018, we found goat friendly folks who aided us in a difficult season of health issues.  I have to admit, I've met the nicest people as my interest in goats grew over the years. Goats seem to bring out the best in folks!

Yes, a Goatherd--that's part of my identity.   

Reclaiming Identity

You have likely heard that old saying, "Of all the things I've lost, I  miss my mind the most!"  Yes!  My mind has been very scattered these last few years.  

In the twinkling of an eye, our lives can be rearranged.  An illness can bring on sudden loss; the death of a loved one changes things for us.  And retirement...it can bring on a loss of identity.  Who am I now?

For the past few years, I have deeply wrestled with the question of identity.  I retain some identity as a priest of the Episcopal Church, with the word retired following my named.  But what does that really mean?  It's not as easy to answer as it seems.  One of the myths about retirement is that it is not really a loss, but a gain.  Well...yes and no.  Grief accompanies this stage of life; most folks don't want to talk about that part of letting go.  No one really wants to talk about the loss of identity that comes with retirement.  Maybe we should talk about it; and grieve it too.

I am reclaiming some identity this year.  I am me!  Wonderfully and uniquely made--made in the image of God.  As I discover God's new call for me, I am exploring all the ways God draws me out of myself.  It's going to be an exciting year!

Blessings,

Ann+