The lost lamb is a story close to my heart, and became even dearer
as I watched the children go looking for a stuffed white sheep. The small boy who found it perched it on his shoulder, and brought it back into the room. We clapped, in response to the part of the story where it says "they rejoiced". Probably some of the mothers present could remember their own joy finding preschoolers who had wandered out of sight, however briefly.
The second hunt involved a lost coin, and I had forgotten, or maybe not noticed, that the woman
looking for it used her broom to sweep. There were multiple shiny dimes waiting for people who went looking. Ben was among those who returned money to the minister. All of us cheered.
The last of the lost treasures was a son. Rather than a full sized person, the minister tucked a wooden figure on the windowsill, and for the third time, we applauded.
He compared them to different things that go missing. A sheep can represent good
feelings, and I could easily bring to mind times that happens. In those foolish moments of amnesia, annoyance with someone I love makes me forget.
"True ideas are like coins," he told us. Surely this dovetails with the idea of storing up treasure in heaven, which cannot be stolen. The image of him sweeping to find the lost coin, struck me as poignant. It can be a chore to gather true thoughts we have ignored. It is a repetitive action, in that once will never be
enough.
The lost son was a symbol for the regrettable actions that can follow when we lose hold of what we love and believe. I have my own examples of regret.
After the service John and I headed to the car, expecting to find Ben waiting for us. But he was not. John offered to look near the refreshment table, but I simply called his phone. It rang for a while.
"Ben? Where are you?" I
asked.
"I am at Cairncrest. I needed a stick," he told me. I smiled, and turned the car toward the hill behind the church where he likes to play out movie scenarios. He climbed into the back seat, and I felt a surge of joy.
