The miracle of life unfolding...

Quietly in the corner of the shed she licks her new-born lambs. Three healthy babies stumble to their feet, bleating for their first suckle. The mother stands patiently as they try to find the teat. The miracle of life unfolding in front of me for the third time this morning. In the quiet shelter of the lambing shed I am reminded of how privileged I am to be here in this place.

It's very easy amid this pandemic to feel enclosed and trapped. We have lost the routines we know and love. We can't see our friends and family. Our children can't go to school. We can't even nip out for a quick coffee at the local cafe. Shopping for groceries is a chore and most other shops are closed. We just have to stay at home. It's emotionally tough on everyone. But we must remind ourselves that it's necessary. It's not difficult. It might not be that nice, but it's not impossible for most people.

None the less it's emotionally tough.

I'm not a teacher, yet I'm forced to home school my children. And let's admit it, I don't like doing it. I'm not very good at it and half the time I have no idea what I am doing . I just glory on, hoping not to let my 10-year old know how bad I am at maths. I mean, do we really need fractions?

My house looks as if it's been inhabited by a small army. I had not idea we had so many blankets in the house until they started constructing dens and tents. Then when I try to fold them up just to hoover, it's like I've murdered a living thing. If I step on one more piece of lego I will cry. Robbie the robot hoover and I have a deal going on, if he eats the lego pieces I wont put him in my teenage sons bedroom. We won't mention said bedroom or I will actually cry. I decided just to buy another air freshener and battle that war once the pandemic is over.

I knew my children ate a lot of food, but I didn't realise just how much they ate until now. I didn't think it was possible to eat a whole box of cereal a day. I'm not even joking. I went for a bowl of cereal on Sunday evening, a box I purchased form myself the evening before, to discover there was a mere handful left in the packet. Really? Was it worth saving? That's not to mention the two bowls of fruit that get polished off weekly as well as gallons of milk, numerous crackers, biscuits, crisps, cereal bars, cheese, yoghurts and whatever else they can get their hands on. It's like locusts come in when I am working and I come back to an empty fridge.

That's just it, I am still working. The farm is demanding work. It's physically demanding. I walk miles in a day and don't even notice it. It's the time of year when you build up muscles you'd forgotten you had. As more lambs and calves are born, I am now putting out about 400 kg of feed a day. Who needs a gym?

​All of that aside, I find comfort in the peace and endurance of the farm. Regardless of the outside world, the farm is my constant. There is no lull in the activity that comes with this time of year. The barley has germinated. Little sprouts have pushed their way through the earth. The grass is greening up for the first cut of silage. The bulls have gone back outside to enjoy it. The calves are being born. One of our two Highland cows gave birth two weeks ago. The lambing is almost finished. In another week or so I hope to get some outside. Oblivious to everything else, life endures.

​Our lives may have been forced to halt or alter for a few short months, but the world God created for us is still going strong. Feeling blessed by the three small bundles in front of me, I step back outside and remind myself that yes, it's difficult but in the end, He's got us in his hands.

Sarah, your Children and Family worker.