Last evening I was really tired and not feeling the best, so I was afraid I’d fall asleep too early. I told Jerry I was going out for a little while, maybe to my friend’s She Shed to pray. ( I usually use my walker and get a little exercise or take the wheel chair for a spin, but I felt a nudge to take my van.) I asked God about going to the She Shed to think and pray, but instead I felt led to go to the sheep pasture despite the foreboding dark clouds and a few sprinkles. When I got there, I heard the urgent cries of a ewe and her lamb who lingered nearby, looking very distressed. The ewe had stuck her head through the wire fence near the big metal gate, and she couldn’t get out. She might have been there for hours already. She was on her front knees, and she looked like she could barely sustain this position any longer. A big pile of sheep pellets (manure) sat immediately behind her, indicating maybe she’d been there way too long. Stuck. Panicky.
Knowing I could try to free her myself, I called DeDe who lives on the property to see if she could alert the owner. I could try to set her free, but didn’t want to injure her in the process. Dede and her son came out to try to help. I went through the gate to the other side of the fence after talking to her in soothing tones. As soon as I got directly in front of the ewe’s face (standing back a few feet), she panicked and bolted backwards. She was able to free herself with this sudden motion. I hoped she wasn’t wounded in the process. After watching her run to the flock with her relieved lamb right behind her, I gave thanks that the Holy Spirit had prompted me to come this evening. This ewe had already grown exhausted by the time I arrived and might have died if no one had discovered her predicament. Although she didn’t know it, she had the power to break free, but didn’t realize this until I stood in front of her and her adrenaline kicked in, allowing her to bolt straight back and rejoin the herd with a huge sigh of relief. As I unlatched the gate to let myself out of the corral, I heard Him whisper to me, “I am going to use your life to help set other women free, too.” I didn’t slip my feet out of my boots, but I felt as though I stood on holy ground in that moment.
I thought back on our conversation around the picnic table at Lake Charles earlier in the day. After two hours of quiet time with our Bibles, journals, and our beloved Savior, we usually gather and share from our hearts, and then pray for each woman after she tells us how God used this time. I shared with those women what I’d been through this past winter, and other women shared that they too had felt despair and trapped at times in their lives. We gave thanks that God has healed me emotionally and continues to bring freedom. They prayed that God would redeem my dark winter in powerful ways as I write about it. We prayed that the church will learn to talk about mental health and also abusive situations in healthy, constructive ways. The other women shared their stories, and God’s Spirit moved powerfully among us as we sat under the oaks of righteousness at Lake Charles. Isaiah 61 kept coming to my mind. He sets the captives free, and brings beauty for ashes. After I shared, a lovely older woman shared her situation and we prayed for her. She decried the lack of equipping in the church to deal with abusive situations and mental health. She mentioned that her pastor’s wife committed suicide. This didn’t have to happen. Why didn’t the body of Christ recognize this woman’s pain and help? The stigma around mental health and also domestic violence has to end. I know that God allowed me to go through this tough time in my life so that He can use my story and new found empathy to help others who feel desperate and trapped, like this ewe. After leaving the sheep pasture, I stopped by the She Shed to record a video about how God spoke to my heart today before heading home to Sweetie. I pray that God will give me the courage to write about my experiences with honesty and power as He anoints my word for His redemptive purposes.