This is our son's favorite sheep. It was lost yesterday (this is a true story) along with about three others that might not have made it to the new house when we moved.
Since it was his baptismal birthday, John wanted to be sure to include his favorite sheep on our little altar space so we could mark the day properly. But he couldn't find it.
I PANICKED. I had no clue he had a favorite sheep. Honestly, no one has worked with the Shepherd and sheep in years. I DID know that there was no hidden stash of sheep anywhere. If the special one was gone, it was gone for good.
While I tried desperately to find a way to recover from the devastating symbolism of a truly lost sheep, I remembered seeing one in our library a few days earlier, wondering briefly what it was doing there, and moving on with my life. With about zero hope that it was the right one, I suggested he go check there.
He came back with a sheep with a broken stand and no face on the back, an unfinished sheep that can't stand on its own feet. But the serenity on John's face formed a halo I could touch. He had found The Sheep.
Because there's no stand, the only way to get it upright is by leaning it against the Good Shepherd for support. John says this sheep is probably the safest and the strongest one of all. I think he's on to something.
