On this cold, rainy, muddy day, we're foster parents to two knobby-kneed little lambs running about our empty bathtub, their cries heard throughout the house.
Two hours away, our college-aged daughter misses the babies. After all, she's been involved in lambing since she was two and held up the head of lamb resuscitating in a bathtub of warm water. Her snapchats and texts draw a line from Skyemoor Farm to Charlottesville.
We have the white twins in downstairs tub.
Ohhh what happened to them???
Oh nooooo Was she young? What happened?
Are they new babies? Sad
Don’t be sad!!!!!!
But a mommy died!!! They are just so innocent and sweet Poor little babies they have no mommy
But you do
ok I’ll just be sad by myself
Oh honey. R u ok?
yes I am fine
oh dear what did u think?
Just making sure u were not depressed by them
I am slightly more emotionally stable than that
U crack me up
Whether near or far, and in both life and loss, I’m reminded how especially during lambing season we are connected by love for our our extended farm family.