Little Lamb

We had registered, somewhat reluctantly, to the family reunion. We couldn’t take the constant nagging from other family members and decided to keep the peace and just go. Our argument was we wouldn’t know anyone and would be bored.

We had never attended a reunion before so really we had nothing to compare it to. The day came and we arrived at the conference centre where it was being held and immediately recognised some cousins and uncles.

The conversation flowed and we forgot that we had not wanted to come.

Displayed around the walls were many photos of present and distant relatives and upon closer inspection family resemblances were apparent. I saw a great grandfather that could have passed for my eldest son, minus the moustache. Even he found it remarkable.

There was a prearranged bus tour taking the members around the local countryside to visit pertinent places relating to family history. As we hadn’t intended on staying we didn’t purchase tickets, but decided to follow the bus in our car. Our interest had been aroused.

The bus lurched down a narrow country road with us a close behind, but we got stuck at the end of the road as the bus attempted to turn around, forcing us off the road and onto the grass. While we were waiting for the road to clear, one of the children in the back seat spotted a tiny lamb on our side of the fence, crying with all that its little lungs could muster. My heart broke and I just knew I had to try to get it back to its mother.

I summoned the help of the youngest son, he went one way and I the other until we had it cornered sufficiently to pick it up and place it gently over the fence where it ran frantically back to its braying mother.

I must have looked a real treat with my Sunday dress tucked up into my knickers elastic to try and keep it clean.

We returned to the car feeling triumphant with our heroic deed. The bus had moved on so we travelled on down the road a little. To our surprise we once again spotted a lamb in similar distress, this one a little older but none the less, young. Once again I hoisted my skirt and we left the confines of the car and mustered the lamb to a point where we could save it and put it back on the correct side of the wire, this lamb taking a little longer to catch as it moved a lot faster, but we were concerned for its safety so we persevered, laughing and running, cornering and conquering.

We had long forgotten the reason for being there and when we realised, the bus was long gone, we gave up trying to catch up, piled in the car and headed towards home.

You’ll never guess. Yes! a short way further on we saw a full-grown sheep trying to force its head through the fence from our side. My son and I looked at each other and burst into laughter amidst comments of “No way!” “It’s too big!” and “We’ll never catch it!” and guiltily drove off leaving it to find it’s own way home.

We may not have participated in the whole weekend event but we did have fun and adventure that day.

In the early hours of the next morning I was awaked by the sound of scuffling near the back door and when I looked through the window I saw my 24-year-old son propped up against the door in an inebriated state.

I opened the door carefully and half dragged, half carried him to his bed where he fell to sleep immediately in his clothes. He was so ‘under the weather’ that he couldn’t even speak

As I drifted off to sleep it suddenly occurred to me that I had not heard the gate chain rattling. I always close the gate last thing at night and put the chain across, anyone entering and leaving the property has to use this gate and since I am such a light sleeper, I always hear the chain. I again began to drift back to sleep but was startled by a voice in my ear say “ I saw your little lamb wandering and confused on the street so I lifted him over to safety”.

It was one of those times when there is no logical explanation and you can only wonder if something divine had just occurred. The gate had remained closed and latched, and even if he had have managed to open it he would never have been able to latch it again as its tricky to handle sober.

My son was home. Many times he had fallen in a drunken state (as he battled his addiction with alcohol) and passed out in gutters and roadsides and had woken in the morning to the realization he had been in great danger, and yet survived. I had received recompense.

One good turn deserved another. The Good Shepherd had found my lost and sick sheep and had returned him to the fold safe and sound. I had refused, this afternoon, to lift the fully-grown sheep over the fence but God had gone the extra mile and done it for me.