little brown sheep-a modern day parable of sorts

[the Sovereign Lord 
is my strength, 

he makes my feet 
like the feet of a deer, 

He enables me tread on the heights.

-habakkuk 3.19]

Mt. Timna loomed before us, standing proudly, his back to the sun, quite undaunted by the heat that blanketed everything. 

the rhythmic crunch of rocks and dried thorns beneath our feet, we followed our shepherd into the valley. 

i trust the shepherd in white, his plastic water bottles attached at his hip, his strong fingers gripping his black leather staff, with bits of etched gold.  I trust him with my heart and feeble body, because i love him. he is good. he is wise. i understand that the way may not be safe, but he promised he would never leave us, or not know where our feet would land. 

quietly, we climb and climb, we find our footing, as loose stones chip off the boulders and plummet beneath us. i say to myself, 'don't be a loose stone.'.. we are just sheep. in search of high ground, in search of shade, in search of rest. the path is not smooth or well trod, but we follow our shepherd, and know we will meet the sky soon enough. 

my little sheep legs are wobbly, but they are strong. i command them to put one foot in front of the other and to keep climbing, keep climbing, despite the heat clawing at my back, and the fear that nips at my ankles. 

the shepherd has brought us to the top and we have all made it.  it is beautiful and vast up there and the sun has to make at least some room for cheerful vibrant blue.  we imagine as the shepherd teaches, the time of our patriarch Moses, climbing up a mountain similar to ours, overlooking the land below, at the tents of the Israelites, about to be given the ten commandments. 

i am having difficulty focusing on his teachings, i have grown weary and weak, and i haven't found the shade. my thoughtful and caring sheep husband, stands guard over me, offering the shade of his sinewy lean frame. i am just trying to grasp for breaths, my heart inside me scrambling for something, i don't know what. my husband gently urges me to drink drink drink, my water sac has gone dry. i begin to panic a little, but my husband calmly, methodically, replaces my empty water skin, for one of his that still holds a bit of water. 

our shepherd speaks with authority and warns us we will need to make our way back down, and it oftentimes is much harder than the way up. my heart fills with dread, but i want to obey and go where he goes. he will lead us to shade and solid ground, of this i am sure. 

we make our way to the precipice and begin the descent. my feet, my legs, my whole body quakes beneath me, but i focus on the firm, yet gentle directions of my husband, as he helps me make my way down. he goes before me, finds the places to plant the feet, and then i follow. we all trickle our way, helping each other, amidst the hot stones spread out beneath and around us. i slip once or twice, i feel my legs disobeying my commands at times, delaying in what they've been told, and i grow more discouraged with each step, but i continue forward, my eyes stinging with salty tears, and as quickly as they fall, they dry up.

my husband sheep keeps a hawk eye on my movements, he doesn't want to trust what he sees unfolding, his brown wife sheep, beginning to fade. he calls to his friend, jeremy sheep, can you please help me? just in time too, because before i even know what has happened, my little frail body crumples beneath me, and the heat begins to cackle, and i no longer can stand.

jeremy catches me and lowers me to the fiery red tinted quarry beneath our feet. there it is, that constant hot, everywhere. hitting our faces, scratching at our legs, throwing its weight wherever it can, slipping into all the crevices.

my little sheep body has grown limp and i cannot go ahead.  my breathing is quiet and sparse. i am afraid, but also too tired to even be afraid. i am just numb and blank space.

a commotion rises up around me. the other sheep realize i am down and busy themselves to help. there are nurse sheep, strong and able bodied sheep, and there is my husband sheep, at the edge of weeping. for once he is helpless, he does not know what to do, and his heart aches for his little lamb.

our great shepherd comes forward. there is concern and rapt attention in his voice. he circles and formulates a plan. the sheep look to him for direction.

he leans down, one strong gentle hand upon my lifeless leg, he whispers to me, "rest precious one. rest.'' i know i must surrender to the care.

there is scurrying about. they hold my heavy head in their palms, and pour living water down my throat, there are bits of food and sustenance placed in my mouth to try and help me come back to life.  shepherd calls commands and they are obeyed. they remove my shoes and rotate my ankles.  there are cold cloths applied to my neck and for a few moments the angry heat is held at bay. I am still so weak. so helpless. so sad that my body has failed me. i feel stupid and small and asking too much of everyone, when we should be moving out of the valley of the shadows and onto solid ground.

shepherd tells us that i will be carried. we will take take turns importing my dry and crusty body, we will travel her to safety, he says.  i am dismayed and horrified. i do my best to all the sudden get my body to work, but instead my legs stare at me in defiance.

the stronger sheep flock around me and offer their strength. my body is slung beneath two men at a time, and they are guided by shouts of where to place their feet, and watch out for that steep step there. i dangle there ashamed and embarrassed. i am made so low to be fastened between two pillars of men, a caravan cloaking us-but i feel more like a circus.  my heart is downcast within me, all i can think about is disspointing my wonderful shepherd, not being able to follow through with his commands, not able to walk behind him. is he displeased with me? would he rather have 60 strong sheep and rid himself of the weakest?

the slinging of my body is replaced with each able and agile man taking turns handling me like a baby, cradled against their chest as we make the trek outward. i am so humbled and lowly, i can hear each man's heart beat, thudding inside their ribs, and i know it is a strain to hoist my limbs and bones and black fur across the desert floor.

and the shepherd. strong and kind shepherd. he steps in and commands, "let me have a turn." and i am tumbled into his powerful stalwart frame and he clutches me close to him. i try my hardest to hold in my tears, i can't believe he, the great shepherd would leave the 59 sheep for me, the weakest of all. of what use am i to the flock? i am holding everyone back, and they are all thirsty and tired. he is like a father, so full of gentleness and great strength, again i am made low, but so so thankful he would take the time to bear my weight.

i am heaved again, from arms to arms, sometimes being transferred on the back of a mule man, i do all i can to cling to their necks, my lower limbs flapping against their strong ones. 

we make our way out of the valley and extra help comes in the form of a park ranger and i am wheeled to cold air and a mat to rest my recovering body. 

i lay there on the cot, my kind husband squeezing my hand, i am reminded i was never left alone or abandoned, for which i am thankful. so thankful. i am so undeserving of all the help that was given to me, all the care and support, all the strength offered. who am i, but a lowly sheep, to be given so much at such a place of complete uselessness.

the shepherd makes his way over to me and i can barely look at him. how ashamed and completely fallen short i feel. here is my shepherd whom i love greatly, whom i honor and hold in the highest regard above many others, my desire was to please and obey him, to follow him where ever he led, and here i was, nowhere even close to that, in fact i had been a hindrance, a set back, rather than a compliable sheep. 

there was no lecture from his lips, no condemning tone, but still i had to ask. did i disappoint you, sir?

and his eyes, swimming with tenderness and a holy flame, met mine with the same smallness i had been cloaked in all day, my whole life really, and he made himself low with me, he said with such humility, "i am no greater than you." and all the lessons floated in and out in that one instant. so many  parallels to my Great Shepherd, who humbled himself, made himself a servant. but i do not for a second forget his Greatness. His power. How great is His love for me, that he would take the time to scoop me up in my weakness, my nothingness, my lowliness, and embrace me so close? 

i am nothing but a little tiny little brown sheep. a walking weakness. a lowly little who is never far from the desert floor. i desire to follow my Shepherd, for i trust His voice filled with hessed-loving kindness, i trust where He will lead me, to mayim chayim-Living Water.