The Good Sheperd

Santiago is old. He is so old, in fact, that the people of the small village in this arid region of high desert and foothills of much larger mountains, cannot remember when he wasn't here. They know him by his name but most of them call him "The Old Sheepherder". He lives just at the edge of the hills a little ways from a village of common people. They are all simple people, if not poor by most people's standards, but because they are all poor to the same degree no one seems to really notice they are poor. Some of them are farmers, some of them are craftsman, from furniture makers to blacksmiths, then there is the local doctor or Curandero, as many of them call him, meaning "healer"and a teacher in the small school where the children go to learn. To them all, Santiago is a local institution.

He is a man of short and portly stature. His face is dark and lined with age and weather that betrays the fact that he lives outside in the wind and sun of a dry and arid land. His face seems even darker because his long beard and bushy eyebrows are as white as snow. He wears cotton pants and shirt that are worn and have been patched over the years showing either his frugality or poverty. On his feet, he wears sandals he crafted himself from leather. He wears a large sombrero to block the sun and the occasional rain, but rain rarely comes. Though it snows from time to time in and around the village, most of the moisture in this land comes from runoff from winter snows on the nearby mountains.

Every morning he wakes before the sun shows its light over the eastern horizon to cook a small breakfast of beans and tortillas, sometimes some fruit. He drinks black coffee boiled in a pot on top of an iron wood burning stove that also serves as heating for the small shack he calls his home. The little adobe dwelling was been built over a natural spring that serves to keep milk cool that he gets from his milk goat kept in a small pen just outside the back door and under a small pergola. He milks her each morning, leaving the milk he doesn't use for breakfast in a clay pot partially submerged in the cool spring water so it will keep until he needs it for his supper. His midday meal will be meat and bread, or tortillas, along with some fruit, if he has it, carried in a nap sack as he herds his sheep to their feeding grounds.

As the sun begins to make the horizon turn a soft gray but is still not high enough to show golden, he opens the gate to the pens made of cedar pickets to let his sheep out for the day. With staff in hand and nap sack thrown over his shoulder, he leads them to their feeding grounds, the ones he has chosen for today. From day to day he leads them. Working their way from just up the hill from his home to the ridge to the north and over into a small valley that is nestled between the ridge and the tall craggy cliffs of granite. Down in the bottom of this little valley is a small stream that trickles and runs with a tinkling sound that is like little bells ringing at Christmas time. Along both sides of the small stream there are long narrow meadows where the sheep can graze on lush green grass. After eating all morning, Santiago will lead them to the shade of the large cottonwood trees that line the banks of the stream where they will rest in the cool shaded area out of the hot midday sun and drink of the cool, clear, mountain water that nourishes the oasis-like valley. There he will eat from his nap sack the fixings he packed before sunrise and take care that none of the sheep wander out of his sight. From time to time they have wandered. When he was younger, he would take a short siesta after eating his meal and while he was asleep, they would rise from lying down in the shade and, beginning to graze again, they would wander off. Though they are not as common in the area as they once were, wolves and even an occasional bear would come a little closer than acceptable to the shepherd's flock and rising to the occasion, nothing like the villagers would ever estimate was in his makeup, Santiago would jump into action and with his large and long staff, he had fought off more than his share of hungry predators. The sheep were always safe under his care. There was always plenty to eat and more than enough to drink. They were so safe, they rarely knew they were in danger even when they were. As the afternoon heat begins to subside and the sun begins to make its descent to the west, he leads them to graze on the move slowly making their way back home.

As the sun sets and the flock follows their shepherd closer and closer to the pens they know as home, they begin to speed up their pace and by the time Santiago opens the gate they are all entering at a run for the night. There have been other shepherds in the nearby country side over the years and at times their sheep have wandered away from them mingling with those owned by Santiago. Santiago never became angry or flustered because he understands that there are many who have sheep but only a few who are really shepherds. He is confident in his ability to protect and take care of his own sheep. He just calmly waits until it is time to go home and he softly speaks to his sheep in a kind voice calling them to his side. "Venir a mí, a mis hijos", he says. Translated in English it means, "Come to me my children." And they do. They separate themselves from the other sheep that do not belong in the flock and do not know the voice of their beloved Santiago, the old sheepherder, and follow him along. Soon they will be safe where he can protect them in the place especially prepared for them. A place called home. Again, like every other day, they will bed down and sleep in a place where there is no danger, pain, or suffering. They have everything they need if they follow and continue to trust Santiago.

As he finishes his meager evening meal, he clasps his hands together and prays. He prays to the one he calls "his shepherd". He thanks God for every blessing of life. For his home, his flock, the stream, the meadow with its lush green grass, protection from harm, bringing them safely home, and most of all for being his shepherd. The Good Shepherd. It is for this simple reason that Santiago is himself a good shepherd. He learned from the best.