Even on a sad day, Saints is a good place to be.
Jean · Oct. 3, 2006
I went over to SAINTS for a few minutes today, and the dark shadow that Carol mentioned was palpable - you could feel it, you could see it. And yet I came home feeling calm and content.
I was thinking about this feeling as I took Charley and Isaac for their evening walk in the fields. I thought about all the critters that make SAINTS so special - the comedic donkey duo, the woodeling beagle, the incredibly graceful Phoebe who leaps like a gazelle through the meadow, curious Carl sticking his head through the barn window, "Limber Lips" Gideon who can open the barn doors and let the troops in to create havoc, petulant Petunia Piggy who gently took cookies from Carol's fingers and said thankyou with almost gleeful grunts and snuffles.
I've been at SAINTS for less than a year, and watched the animal population shift and change. I've laughed more than I would have thought possible over the antics of the dogs and donkeys, cats and chickens and other critters. And I've shed many tears there, especially on days when I've said goodbye to an animal whose time on earth has come to an end.
Mo asked today "Do we run out of tears -ever?" No, we never run out of tears but that is the miracle of SAINTS - there is always more love to give to the animals, always more animals in need of love, and therefore always more tears to be shed when they pass on. Love isn't finite and so tears aren't finite.
Days like today, when we lose not one but two of our dear animals, are the hardest of all. But days like this are also the days when I am most grateful to be a part of SAINTS, for it reaffirms that even in times of sorrow there is the promise of laughter and joy and celebration, there is the awe that comes from observing all of life including death, and there is the certainty of friends with whom to share all that we experience at SAINTS. It is a good place, even on a sad day.