Dolly Parton

It has happened several times since we've lived here on the farm. I awaken to find myself running down the hall or sitting up in bed terrified and repeating, "Help me, Jesus!" Once when this happened, my youngest stood there beside the bed whispering, "Mom...we don't have any animals that are penned up and not fed. Are you okay?" 

Funny how your worst fears play out in your dreams. One of my worst farming fears - completely unfounded as it has never happened - is that I will forget to water and feed an animal being kept in a stall in the barn. I couldn't tell you what the psychoanalysis of these nightmares could possibly mean, I just know that I've never had dreams cause me to run down the hall or sit up in bed with my heart racing, except for these. 

The feeling of relief that washes over me, once I realize all of the animals have indeed been fed and watered, is as strong as the fear. The relief that follows is like a drug. I think relief is the feeling everyone longs for when we find ourselves in the liminal space between mountain tops where bad things happen. That huge sigh of relief when the hard is over, the kind that invites you to take a deep breath because you made it through the Valley in one piece and that maybe this time you actually climbed up onto a plateau...kind of relief. No more valleys. Relief.

"Jesus answered them, “Do you finally believe? In fact, you’re about to make a run for it—saving your own skins and abandoning me. But I’m not abandoned. The Father is with me. 

I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.”          John 16:33

You know, I had never once heard the hard promises of Jesus in my growing up in the church...or even as a forty something woman. What a relief to hear it from the pulpit that Sunday morning. I wanted to say, "You are KIDDING me." I had read John 16:33 many times but hearing this scripture as a promise shifted things for me. He promises hard. We aren't just screwing up and getting punished for it. He is working Good out in our hearts and lives through the perceived hard. Very Good things. 

I do not want any of our animals to experience pain or fear. Ever. I want all of them to be so happy and free from discomfort. That is until the sheep need shearing or the donkey needs her hooves trimmed or my goats need to be bred. All necessary fear producing and sometimes painful parts of being an animal on our farm. Not the mountain top - skies are blue, the sun is warm, but not hot and the grass is at its greenest - kind of day for an animal being raised on our pastures. Some days bring fear and pain to every creature under heaven, its promised.

We have a female donkey we've named, Dolly Parton. She is the furthest things from the legend she is named after, but we chose the name because she's a girl, we live in Tennessee and our donkey "sings". You can hear her song all over the farm as she calls out for us to bring her grain every morning. The thing about Dolly is that she doesn't like people, except for one of our daughters in law, and she is fierce when it comes to protecting her sheep. Nobody is getting past Dolly to hurt her flock, nobody and no-thing.

In fact, she killed a billy goat who shared her pasture - the one we have down by the creek where four doe goats and a herd of sheep live with her. God bless Jeb's heart; Dolly had singled him out as the one she didn't like the most and made her plans. Chris found him lifeless one morning on his side with equine hoof marks on his belly. What felt intentional is that Jeb had been partially buried under the bale of hay in the pasture. Like any good hit man, Dolly killed him and tried to hide the body. She seemed relieved and yet guilty, it felt like she knew we knew.

Dolly's been wounded somewhere in her life, possibly abused. Animals are taught fear or learn it on their own from trauma. Fear has done a thorough work on our donkey. Food aggression toward other animals and her hate for tractors and her hidden desire to be loved by humans is palpable. But what she hates most of all in all the world is the farrier. 

Our farrier is a quiet man who has experienced more loss than anyone I know. But the loss has made a man that has very little fear. This can be universally true for anyone who has experienced loss. When the valley is so deep, dark and full of despair what else can make you afraid, really? His kind of loss makes my small valleys seem like dips on the trail of life. Perspective. 

Quiet and sure, our farrier, Mr. Loudermilk, is certainly not afraid of Dolly. "She'll need a tranquilizer before I can work on her." he shared with Chris. "That'll cost extra." Of course, we agreed because her hooves were so long that it was beginning to affect her fetlocks. 

It is important to know that one tranquilizer works well enough to get a large, high strung stallion so full of himself, deep into a dream state that a farrier can trim and shoe all four hooves and lead the drowsy equine back to his stall, pack up the anvil and all his tools and leave before the horse knows what happened. Not Dolly. 

 "She had to have two shots, but we got it mostly done." Chris breathed with relief as we ate supper that night. Dolly had proven that fear requires two shots when one will do just fine to treat arrogance. Her hooves were trimmed, but not completely - three shots would have killed her. Have mercy. Fear is a force.

I relate to Dolly. My vice is fear. Fear of loss, fear of not enough, fear of too much, fear of ___________. It can be crippling. Like CS Lewis says, my desires are not too strong, but too weak...

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” CS Lewis

Although, it is nothing like it used to be, I am still too comfortable making mud pies in the soil of fear. I know how to do it, that's why. I know what to expect, how to navigate it and that it won't last even though it always comes back. What would it look like to embrace the stronger desire of Life? The kind that brings Joy and Peace? Unfamiliar, but a holiday at the sea sounds lovely.

Forever it felt like I could avoid hard (fear) if I just broke the code to godly living. What I didn't know was that hard is where He meets me. Hard is where actual, lasting growth happens if I will not resist it. I don't want a partial hoof trim of my heart - I want Him to complete a good work in me. Like our farrier, He has experienced great loss - the kind that makes Him fearless as He works with my crazy, hard to tranquilize heart. 

Maybe you cannot identify your vice as fear, but I bet if you trace it back far enough it has its roots there. Fear of too much hard or not enough good. Maybe there's a desire bigger than the fear that He is offering? Maybe it is time to get that third shot and let the Farrier do a complete work while you practice Resurrection into New Life.