By B.T. Schweitzer

Dearest Sister,

I write to you to tell this most jubilant news, I have given birth to my first begotten son only this morning! Such a kind and loving parent to so many, Ezekiel insisted that I write to you before sundown and tell you of this miracle of conception in my barren womb.

Born on this Sabbath Day our son is fair, and wise, and good in every way taking to the nature of his Father and his many siblings. He will grow to be a leader of men as our folk have already accepted him to be, we prepare for his entrance into the flock, and his introduction to the Shepherd. As the sun descends beyond the flatness of the fields Ezekiel will hold him before our congregation and I will bathe him in my life love for all to see.

Spinster Allen, even with her troubled eyes of late, has crafted me a dress of the first white cotton this season and our town smith has forged a beautiful knife for tonight that my son will use in the harvest until his dying day.

As familiar with our customs you are dearest sister I understand this news must be bittersweet. But as the last flowers of autumn know winter comes but choose to grow, and be more beautiful because of it, this is my decision. One that will be irrevocable by the receipt of this letter. Ezekiel will hold my son to the fields bestride the night and the Shepherd will descend from the sky to surely claim him as part of our flock and he will be bathed in every drop of love my life can give.

I know he will be chosen among the flock because he has the Shepherd’s eyes. And his teeth.

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