Sometimes I have heretical thoughts. Ninety nine hit me walking through the fields the other day. The kids have been at each other’s throats lately. Everybody picking at everybody else, no longer willing to endure another second of the many faults glaring at them in capital letters. I’ve got one who can’t stand if siblings chew too loudly, or touch the edges of anything, or fail to follow any number of eating rules that REALLY matter. I’ve got another who can’t stand anyone else’s singing. Or reading out loud in the car. I’ve stopped the car multiple times on the way home from school. It’s supposed to be this major event where they realize they are no longer progressing towards home and they immediately quiet in hushed tones so as to get me driving on the road again. Except they really don’t care if the car is moving while they argue or not. They don’t feel that motion is relevant to their case for moral superiority.
Walking through the fields occasioned me to gaze at sheep and stumble upon a very new conclusion. I have always thought the parable of the good Shepherd lovely; him lovingly leaving his flock and going out into the far, far away mountains to search for the one tiny little lost lamb. Then there in the field it came to me (heretical thought). Getting away from 99 sheep is not as terrible as it might seem, in fact it sounds pretty good. If there was a sign-up sheet today to stay with the 99 or go get the lost one, I’m going lost one every time.