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Archive for November, 2019

Where sheep may safely graze 2

(My stats page records which of my blog entries have been read on any given day.  This entry from 2012 recently received attention, so I decided to run it again.)

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“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.  He leadeth me beside the still waters.” Psalm 23:1-2

During the 1950s and 1960s, my father had a cattle ranch in Nevada.  When ready to be sent to the fattening yards in Missouri and Iowa, the cattle were loaded into huge trailers.  With my penchant for Western movies, I pictured an old time cattle drive from Texas to St. Louis—or wherever—with a John Wayne type at the rear and cowboys riding alongside to prevent a stampede.

For eighteen years, I raised a small spinner’s flock of sheep.  When it was time for shearing the trick was to lure the critters into their enclosure, quickly shut the gate so they could not escape, and then pray they wouldn’t bust out of their shed before the shearer arrived.

Sheep are reputedly stupid.  Bah!  Or I should say, “Ba-a-a-a-a-a!”  Time and again they proved to be smarter than my husband and I were.  If the sheep got wind of the fact that we really wanted them in their shed, they would be impossible to catch.  There was no way we could chase them into their shed.  There was no way we could drive them, the way cattle are driven.  Although they may be herded by a smart border collie, sheep just don’t drive!

The only possible way we could incarcerate our sheep on their “beauty salon day” was to LEAD them—and then only with the best of grain, with plenty of molasses in it.  Only horse “sweet feed” would do, on shearing day.  Even then, the perceptive creatures seemed to have eyes in the back of their heads, and would nervously skitter back out to the pasture if they sensed that we planned to close a gate behind them.  Stupid?  I don’t think so.  Silly, yes, but very intuitive when intuition is needed.

When we belong to the Lord, we are His sheep.  Life may seem full, but He never drives us.  He makes us lie down in green pastures—and gives us rest.

Life may seem stressful, but He never drives us.  He leads us with the finest food—His Word, the Bread of Life.

Life may seem hectic, but He never drives us.  He leads us beside still waters—the Living Water.

Life may seem terrifying and threatening, but He never drives us.  He leads (and protects) us with His rod and His staff.

Life may seem confusing, but He never drives us.  He leads us home through the fog with goodness and mercy, and we will dwell in His house forever.

Cattle are driven; sheep are LED!

Margaret L. Been

Note: The above photo was taken by our grandson, Tyler Been, during his nine months attendance at Capernwray Bible School, New Zealand.

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We are fast approaching December 7th, and the 78th anniversary of what has been known as “The Day of Infamy.  Although I was only 8 years old on that historic Sunday, I recall it as if it happened recently.  Yes, the radio broadcast, and my Mother’s thoughtful explanation of a violent event to a clueless, sheltered kid.

That Sunday was not anything like most Sundays in our home.  No family games.  No losing myself in my favorite radio broadcast, highlighted each week by the spooky words:, “The Shadow Knows” . . . followed by an ominous cackle, courtesy of The Shadow (Lamont Cranston, who had the ability to make himself invisible due to a secret he’d learned “years ago in the Orient”).

Beyond the horrendous news and my wise Mother’s explanation, what is vividly ensconced in my mental hard drive is the night of Pearl Harbor Day.  My Dad was out of town on business, so Mom drove my 16 year old sister and me to a concert at Lawrence College (now Lawrence University) in Appleton, Wisconsin–about 27 miles from home.

In concert that evening was the beautiful Afro-American contralto, Marion Anderson (1897-1993).  If you are not familiar with Marion Anderson, you can GOOGLE her name, and see for yourself (as well as hear on a U-tube) what a privilege it was to attend her concert.  As if her rich contralto and winsome personality were not enough to snow an audience on December 7th, 1941, Marion ended her program with GOD BLESS AMERICA–so timely as to dissolve her listeners to tears.  For years following that concert, my Mother described it with the words:  “There was not a dry eye in the auditorium!”

On the drive home late that evening, I experienced what may have been angelic intervention–or at least a miracle!  A wet snow (Wisconsin style) had begun while we were attending the concert.  Roads were slick on a just-below-freezing night.  My Mother (very carefully, I’m sure) drove over a small bridge above a culvert, on a slight uphill stretch of the highway.  There were guardrails on each side of the road, and I recall our car spinning, hitting the guardrail on our side of the road, lurching forward past the guardrail, and falling off the road (car on its side) onto the ground beyond the culvert.

I do not recall getting out of the car; we obviously must have had help getting out and home.  But I clearly recall that the three of us were totally unharmed–no bruises, no bumps, no anything, except that my sister’s silk stockings were snagged and running.  Even more wonderful was the fact that my Mom had the presence of mind to turn off the ignition as we careened off the road–thus quite possibly preventing the implicit tragedy of a flaming vehicle containing 3 people.  Not only had Mom turned off the ignition, she had wrenched that key so hard that she broke it in 2 pieces: one piece was stuck in the ignition, and the other was found in our car.  (My Mother was a quiet woman–quiet and strong!)

Where in the world am I going with this?  Simply to emphasize that along with remembering our brave Americans who fought (and are fighting) for our nation (then as well as before and since), the concert and my mother’s fortitude are the main details I want to recall of December 7th, 1941.  I no longer want to look at pictures of our U.S. Navy bursting into flames, or post some of the photos on this blog (as I did a few years ago).  I no longer want to read about the action, blow by blow, as I have so often over the years in WW2 documentaries and fiction.

Every nation on earth is composed of fallen humans.  As in the case of us humans, there is no nation without sin–no not one.  My age propels me forward rather than back.  I may be closer in forward years to that joyous time of the peaceful 1000 year earthly reign of our Lord Jesus Christ, than I am in retro years, to “The Day of Infamy”.

“Yes, many peoples and strong nations shall come to seek the LORD of hosts in Jerusalem, and pray before the LORD.  Thus says the LORD of hosts: ‘In those days ten men from every language of the nations shall grasp the sleeve of a Jewish man, saying “Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.” ‘ ” Zechariah 9:22-23*                 

Margaret L. Been — November 9, 2019

*Note that Scripture says nothing about the notion of “globalism”.  Global peace, global respect–one nation for another.   But not globalism as politically referenced today.

The earth will be ruled by the actual presence of our Lord Jesus in Jerusalem, but national entities will remain, along with all the beauty of specific ethnic cultures, life affirming customs and traditions.  The great difference will be an international (global if you will) seeking after Jehovah God–Yeshua, the Jewish Messiah who died for our sins, and rose to give us Eternal Life.

 

 

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