finding God in sheep

I find myself driving a stretch of road just about everyday that I never would have driven under any other circumstances. For the most part, it's just a normal drive through normal suburban USA. But for the briefest of moments, suburbia disappears and gives way to country. There's a huge red barn, which right now is laced in snow and looks magnificently black-faced-sheepphotographable. There's a curvy river with snow-laden trees leaning over it, looking for their reflection in the icy water. There's a field where black-faced sheep hunker down in their own sweaters.

Since I first lay eyes on them (in one of my earliest years in Africa), I fell in love with black-faced sheep. Seeing an entire field of them, smack dab in the middle of Columbus, Ohio, feels like God's smiling down on me. And I can't help but smile back.

What makes you feel like God's smiling on you?


Nothing feels quite like coming home.

Even after seeing gemsbok (my favorite African antelope), watching a hippo watch us, and spending an evening with a herd of elephants, nothing feels quite like coming home.

Even after a pedicure, a back massage, and the professional hair removal of my, um, nether-regions, nothing feels quite like coming home.

Even after a road trip complete with good music, great conversation, and lots of laughter over an emergency on-the-side-of-the-road pee break, nothing feels quite like coming home.

Nothing, at all, feels quite like coming home.

(I didn't take very many pictures on safari, but here's the best of the best.)