Author: Catherine Lawton

Writer, poet, blogger, Christ-follower.

God’s Love Present in Our World

Reposting this timeless piece first published 9 years ago:

“God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him.” (I John 4:7)

As a publisher, I seek books that demonstrate the love of God … stories ever fresh, personal and creative … stories of a love that has power to change lives and change history. Many Cladach books tell of lives changed by this love.

  • In Come, Stay, Celebrate! we read of John and Judith Galblum Pex loving people in Israel—all kinds of people—into the kingdom of God and his Son.

  • In On Kitten Creek, we read how God came into the midst of a people devoted to him in a place consecrated to him, and he worked in unexpected ways to make his love tangible.

  • In Journeys to Mother Love we read how love and forgiveness can overcome and heal the wounds and conflicts in mother-child relationships.

  • In All We Like Sheep, we read how God used flocks of sheep to teach two shepherdesses about his shepherd-heart of love.

  • In Remembering Softly, we read poetic expressions of moments when God’s love seeped, rushed, jolted, flashed, and poured into a searching heart.

  • In Creation of Calm, we read how God’s love transformed pain and loss into beautiful art that brings calm to others caught in life’s storms.

  • In Hostage In Taipei, we read a true, extreme account of God’s love working through believers literally caught in the crossfire, eventually overcoming violence and hate.

  • In Face to Face, we read of Love personified who, unlike everyone else, looked at a woman broken and spiritually oppressed, saw her heart, and released her with his words of love.


Photo credit: Canstock Photo/ © paktaotik

Poetry is for Sharing

This is me and a grandchild who also enjoys and writes some poetry … and who contributed art to three of my poetry books.

Poetry is for sharing. It brings people together in community to sing, listen, illustrate, recite together. Poetry that comes from the heart also touches hearts. Poetry reminds us of our common humanity. Scripture Psalms are poetry. Song lyrics and hymns are poetry. Nursery rhymes gave us some of our first experiences of rhyme and meter. As our society becomes more mechanized and tech-centered, a hunger and appreciation for poetry is growing. Really, I can’t imagine the human experience without poetry.

I started writing poems in fifth grade. Proud of my first real poem (It was about Jesus as my friend) I showed it to my Sunday School teacher. She said, “You should send this to the Junior Joys!” My parents, though, cautioned me, “Don’t get your hopes up. They receive lots of submissions.”

Well, I took courage and sent my poem to the publication’s masthead address. Then waited. About six months later, it appeared in print! To think that Sunday School kids and their parents across the country were reading verses of my words and feelings. Those verses  expressed something others could relate to—and maybe be encouraged by. Perhaps my little poem helped them put words to their own experience, or the experience they wanted to have.

As I grew up, composing poems in my journals to express childhood wonder—or teenage angst—was mostly private outlet. But the verses stepped out of my personal reveries and the locked pages of my diary when I contributed a piece to my high school poetry journal. Then a teacher asked me to read another of my poems to the class. And later, my college creative writing teacher read a poem of mine to her class.

In those situations I realized how the rhythm and rhyme, the sound and sense of a poem can connect writer, reader, and hearers in a shared experience, shape a shared vision.

As a young adult, when a friend moved away, I was asked to write a poem and read it at her going-away party. Later, for my sister’s birthday party, I composed and read a poem.

When I had a family of my own, our Thanksgiving tradition became one where each family member brought something creative to the dinner table to share: a Thanksgiving or Fall themed poem, a scripture or psalm, a picture colored for the occasion.

Through the years I got busy with church work, music ministry, freelance writing, and family. But poetry was a gift that stayed in the background and came to the fore to help me express my emotions during times of loss and grief, as well as times of wonder and joy. I sometimes shared them with friends. Then I began submitting poems to publications. Here’s an example of one that was published:

There came a time when it dawned on me I had a pile of poems produced in all stages of my life (up to then). I had published a novel and more than one nonfiction book of my own—and numerous book for other authors. Why not publish a collection of my poetry? I arranged the poems in reverse chronological order, from the most recent all the way back to that 5th grade poem from Junior Joys. So many memories!—some easier than others to recall. I titled it Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems. It included colorful art by two creative young granddaughters.

Book Cover: Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems

The book garnered positive reviews. And it fostered togetherness. For instance:

  • One niece told me she was reading the poems to her boyfriend.
  • My father, who was about 90 at the time and experiencing dementia, kept the book on his chair-side table to pick up and read now and then. He was convinced that the picture on the cover was me! I couldn’t change his mind on that, but I decided that was okay if it helped him feel closer to me (since I lived hundreds of miles away).

When you’re a poet and/or a lover of poetry, you talk with friends about poetry. Here’s a pic from a video of me chatting with a friend about her poetry:

When I’ve had opportunity, I have taught others about poetry, to help them appreciate its depths and treasures, and to help those who want to communicate through poetry to learn poetic techniques. This happened mostly at writers conferences.

Poetry readings also bring people together around the sharing of poetry. At this local literary event, I read from Remembering Softly to an audience of all ages. It was a new experience for me to not personally know a single person in the audience:

You just never know where and to whom your poetry will go. Here is a friend and loyal fan, Jim. He lives in Texas where his local B&N store held open mike nights. He took my second published book of poetry, Glimpsing Glory, and read from it to the assembled bookstore cafe crowd!

Glimpsing Glory came out at the same time as the Covid pandemic. One reader, a businessman, frustrated with lockdown and online meetings, shared this poem with a Zoom group:

Screen time in spring is deadening,
though perhaps necessary.
But more needed is the feel
of mountain breezes in your lungs,
a rocky trail under your feet,
the velvet of unfurling leaves
sweet scents of new-mown grass
and just-turned earth,
the taste of first strawberries.

Book signing events happen, too, now and then. My husband, Larry, and I participated in this event in Denver where I signed and sold books, including the illustrated Christmas story-in-verse, Something Is Coming To Our World.

You might even find your dog enjoys your poetry. (We know cowboys sing to their cows.) Here my dog, Jasper, seems to be engrossed in the anthology, The Animals In Our Lives, to which I contributed a poem about taking Jasper for neighborhood walks: “Canine Social Media.”

This humorous poem is the one that won me an award from The Dog Writers Association of America:

Meanwhile, poems keep coming to my heart and mind. And as I share them, they bring people together. I invite you to join the reading community of my latest poetry collection:

I wish you happy and meaningful poetry reading and sharing!

Joy and peace,

 


If you appreciate my posts and poetry, I hope you’ll read my books! If you want to send some quick encouragement for me to keep on keeping on, then here’s something else you can do:

Much appreciated!

 

 

 

Waiting, Longing, Hoping (poems for advent)

This post was first shared during (the pandemic) Advent 2020. Waiting, longing, hoping are always part of the life of faith. We take this waiting posture and acknowledge the feelings of longing as well as the constant returning of hope, during this time of year especially. Advent/Christmas blessings to all our readers and listeners!

A few moments a day: read, listen, quiet your heart.

(Click audio files to hear poets read their poems. Enjoy. Reflect. Respond.)

WHEN GOD GAVE US JESUS

The One Who would save us—
Heaven could not contain itself.

Light spilled from a star,
heralding His arrival.

The earth burst into life.
Birds called for revival.

And frightened shepherds
trembled like sheep

When angels awakened
their sleep with song
as light as snowflakes,
as powerful as a
tsunami of harmony
pouring onto earth
at Jesus’ birth.

Oh, praise Him!

~Mary Harwell Sayler

(from PRAISE! Poems)

COME TO ME

Come to me …
An invitation
An invitation
to be free from worry
to take a deep breath
to learn to be humble
to heal hearts with rest

Come to me …
An invitation
An invitation
to release all grudges
to find our purpose
to let Someone guide us
to seek greater Love

Come to me …
An invitation
An invitation
to follow the good path
to ease heavy loads
to discover real joy
to find lasting peace

I think I’ll RSVP

~Donna Marie Merritt

(from Bible Poems for Reflections and Response)

COURAGE IN

Encourage each one,
dear God,
their heart desire
to know.
Distill the cry
of “help”
to nesting purr
of “with”—
so they can face
the day
and all it holds…
the night
and all it hides…
to see
in darkness, treasures,
awake
with second sight.

~Catherine Lawton

(from Where All Things Meet, Mirror & Mingle)

STAR

Star atop our tree
Spotlight of nativity
Resembles the pitch black sky
The bleakness, but then the sign
For all to see, and no king overthrow
Placed in heaven’s open window
Brilliant, bright, breathtaking sight
On that glorious beautiful night
Emmanuel, God among us
In straw and hay dwelt
Canes of shepherd, shadows cast
Lows of sheep among the grass
Mother’s promised joy
Father’s baby boy
Songs of angels surround
Multitudes in Bethlehem town
The promised Messiah has arrived
Man’s debt, a living sacrifice
Wise men travel from the east
Gifts draped across their beasts
Star, star, brilliantly beaming
Spotlight of nativity
Herald of redemption story

~Sarah Suzanne Noble

(from I Cry Unto You, O Lord: Poems of Lament)

Listen to more poems on our YouTube channel HERE.


 

Where All Things Meet, Mirror & Mingle

Greetings to past, present (and continuing) friends of Cladach Publishing… from beautiful Colorado! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Larry and I are giving thanks for each of you and for all God’s blessings.

I am thankful that lately, as I am doing less editing of our other amazing Cladach authors, I can catch up on my own writing. With joy and gratitude I am announcing …

My new poetry book has just taken wing!

I think my readers will find these 70 poems on nature, the faith life, and love both provocative and encouraging. One pre-reader said these poems helped them “connect their experiences and challenges to meaning and purpose.” Hearing that gives me joy.

Written during the strange, difficult years of 2019-2025, the poems don’t shrink from hard issues. But, as in all my writings, I seek to continually bring us back to hope, wonder, and courage.

Earthy metaphors sprouted up in my heart and mind to paint word pictures of the sacred in everyday moments.

I think you’ll find that the whimsical art and color photos add to the beauty and experience of this book (My thanks to John Timothy Watkin, nature photographer, for the cover photo). And at the back of the book are 12 pages of notes that cast some light on the contexts in which each poem came to be.

FUN FACT:

Dragonflies will wing up the the book’s margin as you flip the pages!

The paperback is available now for $14.00. Click to order (buy one for yourself and one as a gift):

Thankfully,

p.s. As you taste and savor this offering of poetry, may you be renewed in wonder and courage to exclaim with me …

As sapling roots seek communion in intertwined, forested place;
As a smile resolves into laughter, a touch melts in embrace;
As a honeybee homes in on colony after foraging far, alone,
Caught in storms but again re-orienting, hoping against hope—
I flow to You, reach for You, fly into You.

(last stanza of the poem “You In Me and I In You” from WHERE ALL THINGS MEET, MIRROR & MINGLE.)

 

Remembering Those Who Have Gone Before

Today is All Saints Day for those Christian traditions that follow the liturgical church calendar.

As publisher and editor-in-chief at Cladach I am reminded of three of our authors who have passed from this life to the next. We never formally acknowledged these passings. So today I would like to commemorate these three, faithful departed saints.

Candi Adermatt

G.H. Cummings

James Troy Turner

I often think of these lines from the hymn “The Church’s One Foundation”:

O happy ones and holy!
Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with thee;

That is my prayer as we remember these three Cladach authors who have gone before us:

Candi Adermatt (1947-2015)

Candi worked in the Office of the Provost at Azusa Pacific University as a freelance doctoral-dissertation editor. She belonged to East Valley Authors. She found her greatest pleasure in spending time with her sons and their families. Candi authored the contemporary novel Love Rekindled.

George Herbert Cummings (1929-2019)

Herb had three careers in his long life: serving as a local pastor of churches in Colorado, California, and Oregon. Then as a licensed family counselor. And finally, as an author. He had two daughters (one of whom is yours truly). Rev. Dr. Cummings authored the book Making It In Marriage.

James Troy Turner (1949-2022)

Troy was a Vietnam vet who had a gift for writing poetry in which he creatively expressed his disappointments, questions, dogged faith, as well as observation and insights into life. He found metaphors in the grit of everyday life. He lived in Colorado.

**********

I thank God for the faithful lives they lived. May they rest in the peace of Christ.

Both we and those who have gone before us are part of the mystical body of Christ and the communion of saints.

God be with us all and help us to keep our sights on the “really real” but unseen, and bring us into full union with our God forever.

 

A Tale of Two Creeks

(I first wrote and published this post 7 years ago. But the subjects treated here provide needed reminders in these troubled times.)

The two creeks I have in mind don’t surge or produce whitewater. In fact, much of the year, they trickle…through prairie and grassland, over rises and around bends…ever moving, ever adjusting, fed by waters originating in the heights of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains, bringing life and sustenance to more remote, insignificant places.

Neither of these creeks flows through prime real estate attracting big-name land speculators and developers. Yet each has a story to tell of life and death, and of refuge seekers. Each has reflected the faces of generations as they laughed and cried, worked and prayed. And each of these creeks has received the blood, sweat, and tears shed there.

What stories these creeks could—and do—tell:  of community…of clashing and contrasting worldviews, lifestyles, and civilizations…of promises and lies, of seeking and finding, of celebrating and mourning.

Big Sandy Creek is noted for being the location of the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 in southeastern Colorado. These days, long stretches of this creek appear dry on the surface, but water still flows underground. (A good reminder to us that some things may seem lost or forgotten, but their presence and effects still linger.) John Buzzard’s novel, That Day by the Creek, portrays the hopes and dreams, clashes and conflicts that culminated in the Sand Creek Massacre. There, the tragic, wrongful deaths of a remnant of oppressed human beings surely caused the life-giving Spirit of God to weep. One can imagine that God’s tears mingled with Cheyenne and Arapaho blood flowing into the shores and waters of Sand Creek.

Little Kitten Creek, which flows near Manhattan Kansas, is the namesake of the country road on which Nancy Swihart and her husband, Judd, settled and founded a life-affirming, loving community. Nancy’s memoir, On Kitten Creek, paints the picture of their migration from L.A. “in search of the sacred” in their daily lives, guided by the desire to live simply and Christ-centered. They creatively consecrated and used the land, the farm animals, and the buildings, including a big barn that hosted concerts, conferences and a dramatized Nativity. There, on what had been a dilapidated old farm straddling Kitten Creek, life-giving waters have flowed from the Spirit of God and touched thousands of lives through the years.

A tale of two creeks, two stories of the land, the people, the times—reminding us that God is with us, working in seen and unseen ways to bring good out of rocks and ruins.

Even though the Waters of Life seem at times to flow only in a trickle, or hidden underground, they will never stop until the day finally comes when all things are made new.

 

Photo by Nashwan guherzi on Pexels.com


A Summer Path of Devotion

When all our honeybees died one winter, my husband and I decided our beekeeping days were over. The time had come to take out the hives in the corner flower garden and use the extra space to add a foot path through flowers, grasses, and shrubs. During the summer months, this simple, curving garden path became my early morning prayer walk.

In the cool of the day, I stand and gaze at the flower faces glistening and opening petals to morning sun, and my heart opens to Creator God, the same one who walked in the garden with Adam and Eve. It seems God is still dwelling, revealing, and walking in gardens.

What I experience is an awareness that God is walking the path with me, helping me start each morning in fellowship with his ever-creative, self-giving, empowering presence.

After breakfast and coffee, and just before I step onto the path, I wait, in a moment of listening, for today’s focus of prayer. One day it is thankfulness. With each two steps I say (and mean) “Thank you” (stepping with left foot) “for family” (with right). Left always the same. Right includes: fresh new mornings, God’s mercies, colors of flowers, people to love and serve, a faithful dog staying close, gentle breezes giving relief from heat, hope continually rising.

Another day, loved ones come distinctly to mind, and I picture them each in their places, facing their particular challenges. With each two steps I intercede for individual family members and friends. I often feel a real sense of participating in God’s purposes, asking in his will, that God’s heart is hearing my heart as I seek to hear his.

One morning, as the first rays of the rising sun shimmered through translucent petals, leaves glowed and dew drops sparkled, my heart lifted in praise. I felt God’s smile through the newness and beauty of life around me. With each set of left-right steps (taken slowly, savoringly) I spoke the praise I felt for God’s beauty, mercy, constancy, and for the way he offers new possibilities amidst the unfolding of each day.

Some morning prayer walks have included confession, as well as release and surrender.

I miss having a garden beehive with its fresh honey; but we enjoy observing the wide variety of native pollinators that visit our garden flowers. It has also become a welcoming prayer garden where faith and hope are pollinated. And starting my day with a few moments of prayerful communion in nature, is as sweet as honey.

~Catherine

If you enjoyed this post, I think you’ll enjoy reading my books:

Write & Publish Organically: Dig Deep, Tend the Soil, Help Newness Emerge

Glimpsing Glory: Poems of Living & Dying, Praying & Playing, Belonging & Longing

Remembering Softly: A Life In Poems

~

Note: I am re-posting this meditation, a slightly edited version of the post that first appeared in 2019 at: Godspace and then here.

Everything I Need to Know About Publishing I Learned from my Preacher Father

My father, G.H. Cummings, preaching on the radio as a young man

Practically being raised on a church pew helped set me on a literary path. We sang with gusto the gospel song, “Publish glad tidings, tidings of peace; tidings of Jesus, redemption and release.” During my growing-up years as my father’s daughter, watching him and my mother minister in many churches, I learned:

The potency and potential of words in a book.

We were people of two books: the Bible and the hymnal. Every church service we opened that wondrous, heavy book, often holding it so the person next to us could share it. The hymnal united us as we joined our voices in lilting melodies and straightforward harmonies accompanied by my mother’s lively piano playing. All the symbols to help us make music together resided on the pages of that book, and resulted in heart-stirring, mind-engaging, and soul-satisfying rhythm, melody, harmony, rhyme and meaning. One hymn declared:

Publish glad tidings, tidings of peace,

Tidings of Jesus, redemption and release!

In every meeting the Bible was also opened—and revered. The congregation stood for “the reading of the Word.” With a reverent, sonorous voice, the preacher read a passage from the Bible, then exhorted from its inexhaustible storehouse of truth, wisdom, and life application. I saw evangelists hold their big, black, leather Bibles aloft in one large hand while exclaiming something like, “The Word of God is alive! It is sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing enough to reveal your sin.” And I quaked. But I also learned, quite young, that real comfort could be experienced from those pages. No mere words on paper. But alive! Jumping off the page and into the mind and heart of the reader or the listener. Quickening!

The joy of writing, printing, and disseminating words on paper.

I watched my preacher father as he typed the church bulletin—and perhaps a newsletter—during the week on his old black typewriter (I loved the click clack of the keys and how the little hammers hit the paper, resulting in words appearing and forming themselves into sentences that said something and that people would read and use to plan their week). On Saturday Daddy would crank out copies with his mimeograph machine. I can still smell the ink and hear the sheets of paper swoosh round the rollers and shoot out onto the pile of materials ready to be folded and stacked, then handed out and read—to inform, unite, and influence—to be published!

The importance of getting the word out.

Twice a year our churches held extended revival services with an itinerant evangelist, and, in preparation, Daddy would mimeograph a flyer about the upcoming week of meetings. One time he paid my sister and me per city block to take the flyers door-to-door and invite people to the services (though “city block” doesn’t quite describe neighborhoods in these rural towns surrounded by farms). My sister and I learned the importance of overcoming our trepidation, knocking on doors, and creating buzz (much like the publicity side of book publishing).

The value of reading and sharing books.

We had few toys, and TV (which we acquired when I was 11) was our only “tech” entertainment. But always there were books. Books lined the shelves in my father’s study. He took my sister and me to the public library regularly, encouraging us to browse and check out books that interested us. My sister read every horse book she could find, especially those by Walter Farley. I read all the Louisa May Alcott books. And when we brought books home from school or library, our mother often read them, too, and we all enjoyed discussing together the stories. In fact, my sister and I always told each other the stories we read. As a result, I felt I’d read the Black Stallion books even though I never did. And she knew the characters and plots in Little Women, Joe’s Boys, and Under the Lilacs even though she didn’t read them. She didn’t have to. That ability to vicariously experience the stories really helped, because there were so many more books to discover! (A side note: As a girl I’d hear people argue their point in conversation by saying, “I know it’s true. I read it in a book!” Whether people were readers or not, most had a sort of reverential awe of books.)

The importance of knowing your readers, your audience, your market.

My father made it a practice to call on his flock in their homes regularly and also to be there whenever trouble hit a family. He would stop by their businesses, farms, and work places for a friendly chat. When he stood in the pulpit to preach on Sunday, he knew those people. He knew their families, their joys and sorrows, the challenges they faced. He also knew their interests, their hobbies, what made them laugh or cry.

How to recruit, train, and encourage workers.

The work and mission of the church needed people of all abilities and ages (and still does). I saw discernment in operation, encouragement expressed, and responsibilities entrusted. Organizing, scheduling, holding meetings were necessary. But loving God and loving people mattered most. Whether or not I heard that expressed in so many words, I definitely “caught” the mindset. As a publisher I want to see increased sales and distribution. I want well-edited and designed books, I want engaged authors, reliable print providers, and enthusiastic book reviewers. I want readers to be encouraged, enlightened, and entertained by our books. But most of all I want to experience God’s presence in all we do. I want to always remember that, as a Christian publisher, what we publish truly is “glad tidings” for all!

~~~

Note: I am republishing this revised version of the post published 9 years ago. This material is also included in my newest book, Write & Publish Organically: Dig Deep, Tend the Soil, Help Newness Emerge. Let me know if you read the book, enjoy it, and how it helps you in communicating with others within the challenges of our world today!

~Catherine Lawton

“An Earthly Father Who Just Loves Me”

Fathering with faithfulness, courage and hope through pain and uncertainty.

A YOUNG FATHER’S BATTLE

(An excerpt from Mark Fraley‘s Sketchbook story, CREATION OF CALM):

 My body has been invaded.

“Dear God, comfort them! I can’t right now.”

“The hardest part… is not being able to pick up my son when he is close to tears.

My heavenly Father says, “I love you and I know it hurts. Put your faith in me.”

Moments together turn into hope, a hope that is reachable and lasting.

My children provide me with strength needed to move forward. I can forget my condition when they are with me.

“So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17 MSG)

A lot of who I am today comes from who my dad has been for years. I thank the Lord for the gift of an earthly father who just loved me!

DING

An encouraging book for anyone facing trials and challenges.

Me? Like a Sheep?

Lamb-2

I think I hear some of my readers commenting:

“Lambs are cute and woolly, and all that. But aren’t sheep ‘dumb’ and helpless creatures? I’m not sure I want to be like a sheep.”

In answer, I’ll offer a few tantalizing, biblical tidbits:

“I am the Good Shepherd.”

“My sheep hear my voice.”

“Like sheep without a shepherd”

“Beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

“He leads me beside still waters.”

“We are his people, the sheep of his pasture.”

“We all, like sheep, have gone astray.”

“I lay down my life for the sheep.”

“Oh…. Well. When you put it that way … I’ll follow Jesus like a sheep if that’s what it takes to hear God’s voice and enjoy those green pastures and still waters. Of course I want to live the life he made possible by laying down his own. … But, what does that mean in real life? How does this sheep thing work?”

I’m glad you asked. God gave us this picture of sheep and pastures. However, it is hard for us to fathom such love and all the nuances of a lamb-like life of trust. So we look to the example of human shepherds. Those earthy, mucking-in-the-barn and traipsing-in-the-pastures, shepherds know sheep. They can tell us a lot about the woolly creatures the Bible says we are like.

“I’ll bet those shepherds could tell some stories! Even from Jesus’ parables, it sounds like sheep can get into a lot of trouble.”

In fact, I have two friends who are shepherds of sheep. Their names are Marilyn and Millie, two women who have raised thousands of lambs and tended flocks on their farms in Colorado. They have given names to many of their lambs and gotten to know their individual sheep quirks and personalities. They’ve nursed sick sheep, bottle-fed orphan lambs, called flocks in from the pasture, protected them from marauding dogs and hungry coyotes. They’ve laughed at sheep antics and cried over their losses and vulnerabilities.

“I’d like to meet those shepherdesses and visit the sheep farm, but I don’t suppose I ever will.”

Oh, you can! Vicariously! Just read Marilyn and Millie’s book of sheep stories in All We Like Sheep : Lessons from the Sheepfold. They’ll even help you better understand how to follow the Good Shepherd “like a sheep of his pasture.”

“Great! Where can I get this book of sheep stories?”

Glad you asked. Just click: https://cladach.com/all-we-like-sheep/

Remember, keep listening for the gentle voice of our trustworthy Shepherd.