The Good Shepherd

The soft evening sun washed gently over the rippling, golden, grassy fields, casting a peaceful aura over the content flock of sheep. Lambs bounced through the meadow, each under their selective ewe’s chary eye. A lone shepherd, accompanied by a faithful sheepdog, stood on a hill to overlook his beloved sheep.

 A scrawny lamb, less energetic than his frisky peers, looked on as the others played in the grass. Unlike his companions, he preferred to stay out of the more thick areas of weeds, due to his more easily tangled woolen coat. Instead, he slowly grazed over the shorter, more stubby grass that, in his expert opinion, was much more juicy than the thistles the others ate.

 As he nuzzled at a more stubborn tuber that refused to surrender to his teeth, a slight disturbance in the cool breeze caught his attention. The small lamb lifted his head curiously to see a beautiful orange butterfly flittering by his ear. The golden-brown background of the pasture extracted flaxen-colored veins from the insect’s wings that seemed to glow in the diminishing daylight.

 Entranced, the young lamb abandoned his snack and flounced after the insect, intent on watching its flight for as long as possible. He followed blindly through the waves of grass, even trailing along when the grain gave way to weeds and young saplings.

 The daylight began to lessen by the minute, but the lamb paid no heed. The butterfly grabbed his attention away from whatever hesitance the youthful sheep should have felt. Finally, the sun slid behind the horizon, leaving the lamb and his playmate in utter darkness.

 Quickly, the lamb realized the situation he was in. In his haste to follow the beguiling butterfly, he had wandered far away from the rest of the flock, and had absolutely no idea how to get back.

 The lamb watched the insect flit around his head, but the mesmerized feeling that had been so prominent when the daylight complimented its orange wings had disappeared, leaving the poor sheep with only a dead, scared feeling inside. He barely noticed when the butterfly drifted away, leaving the other stranded, alone, and frightened.

 Suddenly, a hostile cry through the night made the lamb’s heart leap. Terrified into a desperate action, he bolted away without paying heed to direction or logic.

 A branch cracked to the lamb’s left, and he promptly darted in the opposite bearing. Blood pounding in his ears, the scared sheep attempted to ignore the scratching of thistles at his legs and the screeches of malicious creatures from everywhere around him.

 A glimpse of light caught the lamb’s attention. There was a break in the seemingly endless trees, perhaps a place where he would be able to see…He raced in that direction as fast as possible.

 Suddenly, there was no ground below him.

 The lamb’s widened eyes caught fleeting glimpses of a stony, sheer cliff behind him as he fell through the air. He desperately scrabbled at the rocky face, but to no avail.

 Just as instantaneously as it had began, the petrified lamb’s fall ended. He looked below to see a turbulent, gushing river thundering below him, then up to stare at a two-cubit-span between him and the edge of the precipice.

 Horrified, the lamb looked at his surroundings. He had miraculously landed on a dead, creaking branch, swaying in the breeze over the roaring flow of water below him. There appeared to be no easy path to reach the forest again, which now seemed so safe and secure in the terror-stricken lamb’s mind.

 Panting with nerves, the sheep built up his courage and shakily got to his feet. His lifeline, the overhanging branch, groaned and rasped with every movement, but held.

 The lamb, somewhat sure that his life was safe for the moment, tried not to look down at the rapids raging below him and braced his hind legs securely on the wooden limb. He then placed his front two legs on the cliff’s face in front of him, and attempted to scramble up.

 His breath caught when the dry bough started to creak again.

 The wood suddenly splintered under his hooves, and he was thrown into a frantic plunge toward the river below again. Before he could panic, however, even almost before he could fall, his plummet was stopped abruptly.

 Shocked, the sheep gaped upward, and was able to discern through the dim moonlight a long, slender wooden staff that extended towards him, and was hooked underneath his front legs to support him.

 At the other end of the staff, his face aglow with a delighted smile, was the lamb’s shepherd.

 Suddenly tired, the lamb rested his head against the shepherd’s shoulder, which in turn jounced with each rhythmic step onward. Once it had been determined that the young sheep wasn’t going to slip out of his grasp, the loyal shepherd had carefully hauled him back to ground level, and then securely grasped him to his chest. The weary lamb doubted that he would be released from his shepherd’s embrace anytime soon, but that suited him fine.

 Now, as they plodded together through the brush and undergrowth, the sheep couldn’t help but wonder at the change in atmosphere the forest seemed to cast, now that his shepherd was here. In replacement of terror and irrationality, the lamb now felt a warm combination of peace and contentment, and a new, stronger love for his rescuer.

 The sheep didn’t plan on leaving his savior’s company for a while, maybe never. His deliverer was too kind and wonderful to be ignored, and the lamb knew that he would do anything to make his shepherd happy.

 A new dawn danced at the horizon, promising peace and safety for the oncoming day. The lamb couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be to watch the glorious sunrise than in his shepherd’s loving arms.