While outside today, I told the children the following story:
Once upon a time there was a shepherd, a Good Shepherd, who took good care of his sheep. He led them to the greenest grass, the freshest water, through patches of the sweetest clover. When he would cry, “KieeeeYiiieeee KieeYieeYieeeee!!!” his sheep would spring up from wherever they were and run to answer his call. He carried a sling and a pouch with stones just in case a wolf or a bear or a ferocious lion would come, wanting to devour one of his helpless sheep. Each morning as he brought the sheep from the fold, he would count them: “1, 2, 3…97, 98, 99, 100.” When he reached the high pastures where the grass was greenest, he would count them: “…97, 98, 99, 100.” He would count them before he ate his lunch of bread and cheese and after he would count them after his lunch. He would count his sheep before he led them down the mountain and again as they filed into the fold at night. Then, he himself would lie down as the gate so that no enemy could get his precious sheep.
One evening as the sun was setting he was readying to lead his sheep down the mountain. “1, 2, 3, 4...97, 98, 99…” He started again, “1, 2, 3…97, 98, 99…” And once more, “…97, 98 ,99…” One was missing!
Now, what do you think he did? Did he think, “O well! I have the other 99. It is getting late. That naughty sheep shouldn’t have wandered off! Too bad for him! I’ll just go home, now, without him!”
(Both Abbi and Phin answered yes with a sad, resigned nod of the head.)
But, no! He didn’t! He left his 99 sheep and searched and searched for his lost lamby! He looked behind rocks and bushes, over the edges of cliffs, by the stream… everywhere he could! He looked and looked and listened and listened until, finally, he heard the soft bleating of a lost little lamby! Then, he went to it and picked it up and carried it back to the others, rejoicing!
What did this story lead to? Well, a lengthly time of playing Shepherd (or Shepherdess) and the lost little lamby. Either Abbi or Phin would take the curved stick that one of them found on some previous venture into the woods and be the Shepherd and the other would scamper away in search of a good place to hide. Then, the Shepherd would rise up and call to the lost little lamby. Well, Abbi would call.
Phin, when he was the Shepherd, would walk a few steps… then pause, looking around with his hunter eyes, searching, searching for his little sheep. Then he would run a few steps toward the gentle “baahh!” coming from Abbi’s hiding place. Abbi sure played the part of a weakened, scared little lamby.
When Abbi was the Shepherdess, she would immediately call out with her shrill, clear voice, “KieeeeYiiieeee KieeYieeYieeeee!!!” (but about 3 octaves higher than what I had done). She didn’t have to wait long to hear a VERY LOUD, “BBAAAHH!!!” coming from wherever Phin was hiding. Then she would rush over, face filled with care, ready to comfort the once-lost-now-found lamb.
I like this form of hide-and-seek - "Lost Little Lamby"! For some reason, the kids ‘get the point’ better than every time we’ve tried to play real hide-and-seek. They actually stay hidden until they are found!
How fun!
"The preparations of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord." - Proverbs 16:1
"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks." - Matthew 12:34
"OOOHHH!!! That is a dually! Its sides are all puffed out just like a kitty's cheeks!" - Abigail Dawn
Well, I dare say! I never associated kitty cheeks with big trucks! Leave it to imaginative Abigail!
5:30 am - This morning is mild. So mild that, after the Carpenter drove off, I wrapped up in a blanket, took my cup of warming coffee, snagged one of the kiddie-chairs and went to sit in the fading moon and starlight. It was so still. There was a steady breeze, cool, but without a chill. The stars were distant pin pricks of light, dimmed by the light of the moon as she raced to finish her journey across the sky unhindered, for once, by clouds.
The moon – the quiet light that illuminates the night; the quiet light that we would not see, save for her steady gaze at the sun.
If it wasn’t for the sun giving her his radiance, the moon would be dull and dead. The moon is the glory of the sun; when we see her, our thoughts can be rightly drawn to the ruler of the day without diminishing the beauty of the night-orb. The beauty of the moon can remind us of the sun as we eagerly await his dawning.
“…he [man] is the image and glory of God: but woman is the glory of man.” – 1 Corinthians 11:7
I want to be as the moon, ever reflecting the radiance of my lord and king – my husband. For though I have surrendered my life to the Lord and King, He has placed me beside this man that I may respect him, honor him, delight him, respond to him – just like the moon responds to the sun. When I stand beside my man, I want to joyously reflect the light and love that he shines on me; when we are apart and others see me, I want them to be able too see and recognize that I am well loved, well cared for, cherished and adored. I want my countenance to ever be lifted up, shining with Andrew’s light. God forbid that I try to shine on my own, separate and distinct from my man, for we are one; when I assert myself as my own I end up dividing what God has joined together – I am then out of order, standing alone and uncovered.
My relationship with my husband is supposed to be a representation of the relationship between Christ and His bride – what a sobering thought! Can you see Christ’s Bride questioning His decisions, His leadership, His way of doing things? No, this would not be right. Neither is it right for me to demand my own and assert my self. Can you see Christ’s Bride taking honor that belongs to the Lord and claiming it as hers? This too would be out of order. Can you see Christ’s Bride standing up and proclaiming that the light she shines with is from herself or because of her worth? No. When that happened, the Lord turned away from the Bride He had redeemed and left her to her own destruction. (See Ezekiel 16) Can you see the moon shining of her own accord, apart from her lord, the sun? No. And neither do I want to stand and shine apart from my beloved. I have tasted the goodness of this wondrous thing called marriage and never do I want to give it up!
The sky is beginning to glow. The Creator is dabbing His paintbrush in His wells of rose and tangerine and splashing the soft colors across the sky with broad strokes of His arm. The stars have faded behind the growing blue. But the moon, caught by her radiant lover, turns her pale face for one last kiss before she dips behind the solid hills.
