Weekend Sheep Chase: A Lesson in Trust and God’s Timing
This past weekend gave me a scare I won’t soon forget.
Early Saturday morning, my sheep managed to break out of their halters and took off on an unexpected adventure—straight through the neighborhood and into the wild unknown. I searched everywhere, but by evening, there was no sign of them. Sunday came and went—still nothing. And by Monday morning, I was exhausted, discouraged, and starting to accept the possibility that they were truly gone.
I remember saying out loud, “God, they’re yours now. I’ve done everything I can. If they’re meant to come home, You’ll have to bring them back.”
I wasn’t the only one praying—my neighbors had joined in too. Dale and June, faithful as ever, had been lifting the situation up all weekend, and I’m so thankful for that. It wasn’t until Monday evening, after three full days of searching and prayer, that our neighbor Tanya spotted one of them from her porch. She called us immediately.
Within minutes, we were mobilized—Tanya, Dale, June, myself, and even Twitch, our ever-eager four-legged farmhand. Quads and ATVs fired up, and off we went. With a bit of coordination and teamwork, we managed to catch the black sheep—over 20 acres from home. It was a small miracle.
The white sheep, however, wasn’t ready to be caught. He bolted again, vanishing into the trees before we could get close. Though disappointed, we were relieved to know they were alive. Dale looked at me and said, “We’ve been praying all weekend—they’ll come back.” I nodded, trying to believe it in my heart.
That night, I went to bed still praying, but with a little more hope than the night before.
Tuesday morning came. I got up early, ate breakfast, prayed and prepared for another day of searching. I stepped outside my yurt, walked about thirty paces, and bent down to tie my laces before heading into the woods.
And when I stood up—there he was.
The white sheep was standing just a few feet from me, staring me in the face like nothing had happened. Calm as could be, he walked past me and right back into the enclosure with his brother.
No struggle. No chase. Just… home.
I stood there in silence, in awe. God really does have a sense of humor sometimes.
In moments like this, I’m reminded of Jesus’ words in Luke 15:4–6:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.”
God cares about the little things—especially the things we entrust to Him in faith. Whether it’s sheep, family, or the burdens we carry in our hearts, He’s faithful to bring restoration in His perfect timing.
This wasn’t just about missing livestock—it was a reminder to trust, to lean on community, and to believe that even when things seem lost, they’re never too far from the Shepherd’s reach.
In light of the recent great escape (and the heart-pounding adventure that followed), I’ve decided to move up the timeline for setting up the permanent pasture fencing. The temporary solutions just aren’t cutting it anymore—not when the safety of the animals and the peace of the neighborhood are at stake.
After reviewing my layout and walking the land, I’ve finalized the design for a secure fenced pasture that measures 177 feet by 235 feet. That works out to just over 41,000 square feet—nearly an acre of grazing space where the sheep can roam freely, safely, and without breaking loose for unapproved field trips.
This space will provide not only room for exercise and healthy forage but also peace of mind for me and the rest of the team. No more chasing sheep through the trees or wondering if a neighbor is going to call about a wooly visitor in their yard.
Next steps: sourcing the materials, setting the posts, and (hopefully) knocking it all out before anyone else decides to test their boundaries—literally.
Stay tuned for build updates, photos, and maybe even a fencing tutorial or two. This homestead never sleeps!
