My maternal grandparents owned and operated a small dairy farm. They raised ten children on that farm, my mother and her nine brothers. The farm was near to the home where I was raised which allowed me to spend many days of my youth on the farm. When I was very young my grandfather in addition to a menagerie of other animals had a small herd of sheep. Observ-ing his interactions with the sheep has made the image of Jesus the Good Shepherd vivid and real for me.
By the sound of his voice and his call both the dairy cattle and the sheep would respond. One day as it was time for the evening milking, grandpa asked me if I would call the cows. I was about 6 or 7 years old. I stood exactly where he always stood and bellowed his exact chant which I had come to know. The cows continued grazing and did not budge. After about ten long minutes I was losing my voice. Grandpa came out, with a big grin on his face, and with one loud call with his deep voice the cows began their way to the barn.
The sheep responded to his voice in the same way. They knew his voice and they had come to learn that to follow his voice meant greener pastures and fresh water and safety. At times in the spring during lambing season the flock would be harassed by coyotes. He had a coral for the sheep next to the barn. He would coral them at night to keep them safe. Late in the evening he would go out into the pasture singing some silly song and they would follow him through the gate into the coral. My job was to close the narrow gate when they were all safely inside. At times I was allowed to camp out with him near the coral so that we could chase off the coyotes when they came calling.
One day in early spring the grass was starting to green near the riverbank. As this was the first of the green grass the sheep were happily grazing. I was with my grandpa as we led them to the river. As they were struggling for position a newborn lamb was accidentally nudged into the river. The river was swift and cold, ice was breaking up and floating down steam. Grandpa instinctively ran down the riverbank and plunged in ahead of the drowning frighted lamb. He waded chest deep in the freezing water to save the little lamb. He wrapped the lamb in his coat, and we started the mile walk to the farmhouse. When we arrived, he wrapped the little lamb in an old blanket and placed it in front of the woodstove. I remember my grandmother chastising him, screaming at him to get out of his wet clothes. She reminded him how foolish he was to risk his own life, the chance of catching pneumonia, to save one little lamb.
I am certain that grandpa did not think that one through. He reacted and did what came natu-ral to him, protecting the life of his sheep. Without his care, the defenseless sheep could not have survived very long. They needed a shepherd to protect them from predators, to lead them to green pastures to eat and to restful waters to drink. Their lives depended on the care of their shepherd. The shepherd in turn has one purpose, the life of his sheep.
I will always cherish the memories of my grandfather on the farm and the lessons learned about life and about God. For the gift of these experiences, I am eternally grateful.