ElizabethEsther.com

the lost sheep: a parable retold

ocean fog creeping over the Buelton hills, 75-300mm

She had been gone for several days. Yes, she had strayed. And there was talk, of course.

"It's her own fault for getting lost," somebody mumbled.

"She made bad choices," another pointed out.

"What does she expect?" asked a third. "You reap what you sow."

But the Shepherd had other words.

"She's mine," He said. "I will go and find her."

"But Master," protested a well-meaning ewe, "we need You here! Does one rebellious sheep matter more to you than ninety-nine obedient ones?"

The Shepherd shook His head, sadly. "No. She doesn't matter more. But she doesn't matter less, either."

But the old ewe wasn't done. "Master," she bleated, "shouldn't she suffer the consequences for her bad choices?"

The Shepherd turned and gazed intently at the old ewe. "Which consequences would you have her suffer?" He asked.

The old ewe shrugged, "Well, she needs to learn the price of disobedience. How else will she learn?"

"Would you have her die bloodied and broken at the bottom of a cliff?" the Shepherd asked. "Would that teach her a good lesson?"

The old ewe looked away, saying nothing.

"I'm not willing for that happen," said the Shepherd. "I love her too much to abandon her."

The Shepherd started on His way. But another sheep scampered after Him and in a low voice asked, "Master, isn't this sheep an embarrassment to you? Doesn't she reflect poorly on Your Shepherding skills? Are you sure you want her back?"

"You don't understand," the Shepherd said, "I would give my life for her. I promised never to leave or forsake her. I will pursue her because I love her."

"B-but," stammered the sheep, "she's not worthy of Your love!"

The Shepherd stopped walking and patted the worried head of his little sheep.

"Don't worry, precious one," He said. "Nothing can separate you from my love. Not height, nor depth. Not your accomplishments. Not even my lost sheep's failures."

Then the Shepherd wrapped his cloak around Himself and hurried into the hills.

He called for his lost sheep many times. For many hours there was no answer. It was cold and began raining. Still, the Shepherd searched.

Finally, in the darkest hour before dawn, He found his lost sheep. She was trapped on a steep cliff, clinging desperately to a crumbling ledge.

The Shepherd climbed toward her, calling her name and reassuring her. Using his Shepherd's hook, He pulled her to safety.

And then He took her in his arms. He didn't scold or punish her. He simply carried her all the way home.

As the morning sunshine poured across the green pasture, the Shepherd arrived home to His flock.

"Come celebrate with me!" He called to His friends and neighbors. "I have found my sheep that was lost!"

That day, even the angels in Heaven rejoiced.

For once she was lost. But now she was found.

: : inspired by today's reading @ Pray As You Go : :

don't forget to join me this Saturday for THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST plus a special giveaway!

An Easy Mistake To Make......(another dress story)

[ Anthropologie Big Sky Sweater here and Vintner's Landscape Dress here]

An Easy Mistake To Make

As if sitting next to a vulgar old man for three hours wasn't enough, when Penelope arrived at the station, Marcus was not there. She stood for a long while on the platform, scanning faces--all strangers.

"The dress was perfect until you threw Granny's afghan over it," her brother had said before she boarded the train.

"It's not a blanket!" she'd protested, "it's a sweater!"

"Fine. It's a blanket with arm-holes," he said, laughing. "Good luck. You'll need it."

His words echoed in her mind now. She felt increasingly embarrassed, standing alone in her big sweater, clutching her train-case.

What did she and Marcus have, anyway? A few hours in a Colorado bookstore, a handful of passionate emails, one long distance call. The sweater wasn't the true mistake, she realized. Being silly and impulsive was.

"You don't go rushing headlong into love," her mother had tsk-tsk'd. "But it's an easy mistake to make."

And, Penelope added to herself as she purchased a return ticket home, you obviously don't throw an afghan over it.

A Small Price To Pay For True Love.....(a dress story)

Oh, I love dresses! I try to wear a dress or a skirt everyday. They are so much prettier than pants. Here's the story of a dress I would never buy for myself (waaaay out of the budget), but I think it's so lovely that when I flipped through the catalog, I couldn't help but jot down the story that came to mind as I looked at it (yes, that's my writing on the catalog---I like to flip through with a pencil, circling things I'll never buy and writing stories about dresses I'll never wear! LOL!):

A Small Price To Pay For True Love

She had purchased the dress especially for him, had seen it in a store window and although it was much, much too expensive and quite unlike her to be impulsive---she had bought it anyway.

"This dress gave me your father," she would later tell their children. "It was a difficult time, so much was uncertain. But this dress was the most certain thing I've ever done."

"What did he say when he saw you?" their daughter asked.

"Oh," said the mother with a small sigh, "he didn't say a word. When I walked through that door, his face said everything I longed to hear."

Two hundred dollars, she thought, was a lot to pay for a dress. But in the end, a small price to pay for true love.