Just after a winter sun rose scarlet across snow white fields, I find a curled newborn lamb shivering, still freshly wet, in the corner of the chilled tiny barn. The narrow way is the only way to life. Sometime in the still dark of the early dawn hours, she’d made her way down the dark and narrowest of passageways – the birth canal – and slipped out into this cold world and she trembles. Since the beginning of time, ours births down the narrow canal testifies to the larger, co...
