Five lambs were orphaned around the same time when their mothers died at the farm.

They had to be bottle fed or die – there was no choice.

The farmers wife took on the task, awkwardly juggling bottles and lambs until, eventually, she was able to feed all five at once, bottles in each hand, and between her knock knees, fore and aft.

When the lambs no longer needed the bottle, they were placed on the grassy hill, but every time the farmers wife walked past the electric fence that penned them in, they would run after her as soon as they spotted her. “Ma! Ma!” they would bleat.

At one time, they threaded their way through the electric wires, and all got a mild zap as they escaped the pen, running after the farmers wife. Patiently she put them all back into the grassy pen.

The next time she passed, the little brown lamb had learned his lesson. One zap and he was not willing to chance the pain for the gain for a potential meal.

Two of the lambs would run along the fence, yelling at the farmers wife, as if their insistent bleats would cause her to stop and feed them where they were, in the comfort of their grassy hill.

One lamb didn’t care. He saw her, he remembered the nourishment he got from her, and he flung himself through the fence. Over and over again, he would escape what held him back, and chase down the one who had kept him alive.

I want to be like that little lamb.

I want to have that determination to chase down what the Shepherd has for me. I want to be insistent that He carry me when I need it, tell me what I need to hear, put me where I need to be…when I need to be there.

Don’t let me be the lamb that comes against a little pain and holds back from my potential. Worse still, I don’t want to be like the lambs making all the noise, wanting to be catered to in my comfort zone.

Let me recognize my Shepherd…know His voice, and follow hard after Him.