The Little Shepherd
It was early in the morning and the sun crept through the crack in the window shade. It was just enough to wake him up. He didn’t want to get out of bed, though. He turned over and pull the covers up hoping that it would make things more comfortable, therefore the sleep would return to him. It didn’t work. Maybe if he fluffed up his pillow. That didn’t work either. Frustrated, he gave up and slowly climbed out of bed. He headed into the bathroom to shave. As he looked into the mirror, he began mumbling to himself. He knew many people depended on him, but what was the real purpose of it all. Depression brings thoughts like that. You don’t get real excited about anything. Even the flowers are a dull shade of gloom.
There was a knock at the door. It was a very dear friend. The friend asked if he would like to go play a round of golf. He loved golf and there were very few who played more than he did. Today, however, he didn’t feel up to it. The Admiral, his friend, pleaded with him, because he knew he needed to get out. It was enough encouragement to get him to grab his clubs and go.
A long, long time ago there was a young lad named Bo. Like most young kids, Bo had dreams of what he wanted to be when he grew up and it wasn’t the job that was passed from one generation to another throughout his family’s history. He wanted to get out of this small town. He dreamed of a life in the big city. His dad had other ideas.
His dad was a shepherd. Sheep had to be moved from one pasture to another until it was time to take them for their shearing. That was where most of the profit came from. Some money also came when they sold the sheep to be slaughtered for the dinner table. The job that little Bo hated the most, though, was milking the sheep. A lot of that milk went into making cheese. He loved the cheese but it still didn’t seem to be worth all the trouble.
The ruler of the land did bring some excitement to their little town. This ruler decreed that citizens needed to return to their descendent’s hometowns and be taxed. There were people everywhere. It was packed. Little Bo loved it, but his father couldn’t wait for all the people to go away. But for most of their days and nights, Bo and his Dad and some of the fellow shepherds were out in the field, outside of town, away from the crowd, watching the sheep. That just made Bo hate the job even more.
One night, while the crowd covered the little town and the shepherds were out in the field watching the sheep, the most amazing thing happened. It was a dark starlit night. All was calm. The shepherds were all sitting on some rocks where they had a great view of the sheep. One of the shepherds noticed a bright star in the sky and pointed it out to the other shepherds. This started them all talking about old time stories of long ago. Bo had heard them all several times before and just tuned them out. When the stories continued, Bo had enough. He rolled his eyes and walked away to a cluster of trees. He sat down and pouted by himself for a little while.
All of a sudden, Bo noticed a bright light shining all over the field. He then heard music. He bent his head around the tree and noticed a whole host of glowing angelic creatures floating in the sky. Bo looked over to his Dad and all the other shepherds and he noticed that they all had fallen to the ground, scared to death. His Dad then looked up to the sky. He was shaking. In a calm yet roaring voice the leader of the heavenly host assured his Dad that there was no reason to be scared. He continued telling his Dad of this royal birth down in their tiny little town. He was then directed, with some urgency, to rush down to their little town to see this little boy. Bo stayed behind the tree until his father called for him.
Our sleepy headed friend was recently widowed. There were very few days that past that he didn’t think about his deceased wife and the special relationship they had. That was the main cause of his depression. But on this day he had given a speech that was very well received and the depression was starting to lift. His friend, the Admiral, who was also his doctor, was the first to notice this slow recovery.
It had been five months since his wife died. The Admiral decided it was a beautiful day outside and he and his friend decided that going for a drive might be the perfect thing to help the recovery go even quicker. If it didn’t cheer him up, maybe it would at least take his mind off all his troubles for a little while. The Admiral, could tell his depression was starting to lift. Maybe he would get back to enjoying life.
On this day they were traveling around town. The good doctor saw another one of his friends named Edith Galt. He bowed his head as they passed her. To the doctor’s surprised his widowed friend said, “Wow! Who was that?” It was the first time his recently widowed friend had even acknowledged another woman.
Bo’s father motioned for Bo to come over. “We’re going to see this new born king,” his father said. Bo didn’t know what to think. “Do I keep pouting and throw a tantrum or do I reveal my real excitement?” was the conflict going around in his mind. Before he even had a chance to say anything, they were on their way.
Bo didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to get excited about their visit to town. Bo had never been to the better side of town. It would be nice to see the bigger houses and the fancy ornaments on the tables. He never had a servant open a door for him. He could only imagine the number of those servants who would be doting on this little royal baby.
Bo was a little puzzled when his father moved toward a stable. They didn’t have any horses or livestock to leave there. Besides, they weren’t even anywhere close to the rich side of town. As they moved closer inside the stable, Bo noticed a newborn baby laying in the hay of a small trough. Bo looked up at his father with a “what is this look” in his eyes. This was no royal birth, this was the birth of two poor peasants who couldn’t even afford a room in an inn. Bo stormed out of the stable.
The Admiral, Cary Grayson, decided he needed to help his friend by playing match maker. He went to his female friend, the widowed Mrs. Galt, and asked if she might be willing to go to the White House and meet his friend, the President. Mrs. Galt refused, saying that she was no social butterfly and did not want to be one either. Admiral Grayson was not about to give up. He got with the President’s daughter, Nell McAdoo, and the President’s cousin, Helen Bones. They went for a ride and met up with Mrs. Galt, the first woman to own her own car and drive in Washington. They all became very good friends. And the plot thickened.
As the cat and mouse game between the President and Mrs. Galt continued, eventually love caught both of them by surprise. The President, who thought love had left him forever, was now dancing around like a teenage boy. Often the President could now be heard whistling his favorite tune, “Oh, you beautiful doll!”
As Bo’s father and the other shepherds gathered around the young baby that was lying in the manger, Bo went outside and around the corner of the stable. He couldn’t believe his father dragged him all this way on the false pretense of a royal birth. He was so mad. As he turned the corner a bright, tiny glow came into his view. The glow grew larger and larger. Then, right there in front of him, was an angel. His jaw dropped and he had no idea what to do. The angel said, “Why are you not witnessing the first days of the King of kings who lies in the manger just a few feet inside?” “What do you mean? That is just some baby of some visiting peasants,” replied Bo. “Most revolutionaries are not born in palaces. No, most revolutionaries are born and grow up among the everyday people. They personally experience the pain. They love the people and their heart’s desire beats trying to make life better for those people. Their royalty is a gift of God for that love,” the angel continued. “But how do I know this little baby is such a revolutionary?” Bo asked.
The angel stood there a minute as though he was giving Bo a few moments to think about what he just asked. The angel continued, “If you walk inside and really desire to see a new born king, you will notice a glowing halo around His head.” “I already went in there and looked and there was no halo around that baby’s head,” Bo protested. “Were you trying to witness something you could brag about or were you looking for someone who can actually make your life better?” was the next question of the angel. Bo was a little embarrassed and bowed his head in shame. “Go my child. Go back in with a different heart. You will find the royal king you are really looking for,” commanded the angel. Slowly Bo returned to the stable entrance. The other shepherds were blocking his view. Bo nudged his way between the shepherds. As he lifted his head to look at the child, his eyes beamed and his mouth opened wide. There was a glow around the little baby, just like the angel told him. Bo’s life and attitude would change for the better on that day. He would never be the same when he found the real truth of the King of kings’ birth.
On December 18, 1915, Woodrow Wilson was nearly fifty-nine-years-old as he sat in the sitting room of Edith Bolling Galt’s house in Washington DC. They would descend the stairs together as the Marine Band played the wedding march from Lohengrin. Family and friends waited downstairs. Clergy, a pastor from his Central Presbyterian Church and an Episcopalian Bishop, representing her religion, were waiting for them to be presented for marriage. Of course, Admiral Grayson was there. And for the second time they both left loneliness for the arms of a new spouse.
The honeymoon train was kept secret with only the secret service knowing about its departure. Agent Starling was assigned the watch inside the car. Without Wilson knowing it, Starling spotted the President as he left his room and as he headed down the aisle dancing a “jig.” Wilson then jumped in the air and clicked his heals together. Then the President started singing, “Oh, you beautiful doll! You great big beautiful doll….”
Sometimes life offers us nothing but heartbreak and depression. Hope seems to be the far off dream of other people. Our life seems to be that storm cloud that never runs out of rain. It affects our attitude and our outlook. But there seems to be a magical antidote that helps us through those times and it is love. When love seemed to have left Woodrow Wilson, his path was crossed by Edith Galt. When we sense a loss of love, all we need to do is turn toward the stable and push a few shepherds out of our way and look inside the cradle. Then we too can dance a gig and sing a song knowing that God loved us so much that he sent His very own Son to have the same kind of royal birth and life most of us have had.
Prayer: Dear Heavenly Father, Thank You so much for sending Jesus, not to stand in royal snobbery, but to live a life so He could understand what I go through. Thank You for loving me so much that You make it easy for someone like me to walk right up to His cradle. Amen!
