Part of our Sunday School lesson was on the lost sheep, the one that we’re supposed to go looking for when it gets lost. There was some participation from class members and a wonderful story told from a grandparent’s perspective. One of his grandchildren managed to slip out of the house during a visit to downtown Salt Lake City. The whole family was in a panic looking for him when the grandfather happened to notice the young man standing under a tree on the other side of a busy intersection; how the boy got there without getting run over was a miracle in itself.
The grandfather was happy to find the young man unharmed as he crossed the street; but he noticed the look on the boy’s face, wondering how much trouble he was in for having wandered off. The grandfather had only gratitude in his heart for having found his grandson safe and sound. If you haven’t read the original version I have it here ( also linked via title bar):
What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
5 And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.
6 And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.
7 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.
I resisted raising my hand, even though I had a matching story from my youth. I must have been about 5 years old when my mother decided to take me to the grocery store, the A & P about a mile from our house in Levittown, New York. I got bored following her down each isle and went home without so much as a “by your leave”.
I’m only guessing, this having happened when time meant next to nothing; but I figure mom spent some time looking for me by wildly wandering around the grocery store, then raised her level of panic to having each and every employee of the store doing an all out search of every nook and cranny to include the garbage bins prior to blowing a gasket.
Mom, being a cool cucumber in most situations, must have grasped at some straws as she drove home to check on the improbability of my being there, all the while wondering if my body was already floating in some creek, mutilated and shredded by a pack of wild dogs or sold to a wandering band of gypsies. I was home relaxing, that’s a long walk for a young boy with short legs, when mom came huffing and puffing in the door.
I’m not sure how the lost sheep felt when “he layeth it on his shoulders”; mine was more like “she layeth me over her knee”. I should explain that I often found myself in such an awkward and painful position as I learned about obedience. I often heard words to the effect, “I hope he’s/she's safe”, referring to my brother or sister, “because when I find him/her. . .(fill in the blank with appropriate lightning bolts and thunder)”; loving words from a caring mother with one more frazzled nerve, or would that be Frasered nerve?.
The grandfather was happy to find the young man unharmed as he crossed the street; but he noticed the look on the boy’s face, wondering how much trouble he was in for having wandered off. The grandfather had only gratitude in his heart for having found his grandson safe and sound. If you haven’t read the original version I have it here ( also linked via title bar):
What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?
5 And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.
6 And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.
7 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.
I resisted raising my hand, even though I had a matching story from my youth. I must have been about 5 years old when my mother decided to take me to the grocery store, the A & P about a mile from our house in Levittown, New York. I got bored following her down each isle and went home without so much as a “by your leave”.
I’m only guessing, this having happened when time meant next to nothing; but I figure mom spent some time looking for me by wildly wandering around the grocery store, then raised her level of panic to having each and every employee of the store doing an all out search of every nook and cranny to include the garbage bins prior to blowing a gasket.
Mom, being a cool cucumber in most situations, must have grasped at some straws as she drove home to check on the improbability of my being there, all the while wondering if my body was already floating in some creek, mutilated and shredded by a pack of wild dogs or sold to a wandering band of gypsies. I was home relaxing, that’s a long walk for a young boy with short legs, when mom came huffing and puffing in the door.
I’m not sure how the lost sheep felt when “he layeth it on his shoulders”; mine was more like “she layeth me over her knee”. I should explain that I often found myself in such an awkward and painful position as I learned about obedience. I often heard words to the effect, “I hope he’s/she's safe”, referring to my brother or sister, “because when I find him/her. . .(fill in the blank with appropriate lightning bolts and thunder)”; loving words from a caring mother with one more frazzled nerve, or would that be Frasered nerve?.
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