I grew up on a farm in southwest Ohio. I have many fond memories of riding with my Dad in his pick-up truck as we hitched up the wagons of corn at harvest time. But my favorite thing to do was getting in the back of the corn wagon, stretching out on the golden grain, and burying my arms and legs in its coolness while basking in the autumn sun. Ah! Life for a farm kid was good!
My brother and sisters were in 4-H, a popular rural “club,” where you’d get to take your projects to the county fair and hopefully win a blue ribbon. But mostly it was about hanging out at the fair, having your own place with lawn chairs and a cooler of snacks in the sheep barn, and going to the A&W stand for a daily root beer. I greatly anticipated the day when I could join 4-H and take my own projects to the fair. Finally that day came and my Dad got me a little lamb that I became quite attached to. It would eat right out of my hand and follow me around everywhere. When the week of the county fair finally arrived, I was about to burst with excitement.
But the concept of having a “market” lamb didn’t quite hit me until the last day of the fair, when the animals would be auctioned off, sold, and sent to “market.” So on that day, kneeling with my little lamb in front of the auctioneer’s block, it finally hit me—my lamb was going to die! Up until that point I think I knew in my head what was going to happen, but in my heart, it just dawned on me. So as the auctioneer started rattling off the bidding, my throat started to lump up within me, and although I tried not to cry, tears started streaming down my face. There was nothing I could do to save my lamb. Then, when I thought all hope was gone, I looked up, and I saw my Dad in the back of the room with tears in his eyes. Then he did the most impractical, but loving thing I think he ever did. He started bidding on my lamb. Hope began to swell in my heart. Could it be; would my Dad really buy back my lamb for me? The bidding continued for what seemed like an eternity, yet my Dad held out to the very end until the auctioneer said, “Sold to the gentleman in the back.” Those who didn’t know my Dad would see this big, strong, quiet man and think him a bit gruff—but my Daddy had such a tender heart, moved by his daughter’s hurt and tears.
Years later in 2005, when my Dad was in hospice, I asked him if he remembered that story and he said, “Oh yes, you need to share that.” And each evening we tucked him into bed and prayed that simple childhood prayer that he loved: “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep….” Just a few weeks later, he passed away. I sang this song at his memorial service.
The lamb story made me remember we all need to be bought back. We need a heavenly bidder to save us from certain doom; that’s just what Jesus did. His death as the “Lamb of God” was the price that was paid so we could be the sheep that safely graze in green pastures. I got an early taste of God’s amazing grace on that day when my Daddy bought back my little lamb, a glimpse of the Father’s love for us. Thanks Dad! This song’s for you.
Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, all that’s been lost in this place will be found.
Broken dreams and aching soul will find wings to fly, high over streets of gold.
And eyes that once were blind, now can see. Body, spirit, broken—now free.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, the love that reaches down to find me.
And now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, Lord take me away!
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, all that’s been lost in this place will be found.
Broken dreams and aching soul will find wings to fly, high over streets of gold.
And eyes that once were blind, now can see. Body, spirit, broken—now free.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, the love that reaches down to find me.
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With my tenderhearted Daddy when he was battling cancer in the Spring of 2005 (He passed away that fall)