It’s interesting, on a Sunday afternoon errand, I discovered two sheep that moved into the area. “They are Dorper sheep”, their ninety-year-old owner informed me. He’d wanted a pair of Dorper sheep since he was a little boy. The sheep keeper leaned heavily into the saddle of his field-weary four wheeler and adjusted the cannula that fed oxygen to his failing heart. “Sheep are born looking for a place to die.” It was a startling sentence, especially as I considered the myriad of scriptural implications.