Parable of the Lost Steers

I was flipping pancakes on the griddle Tuesday morning when Jay rushed inside requesting everyone’s immediate help. “The steers are missing! I need help finding them!” Still clad in my pajamas, I immediately stuffed my bare feet into some boots, threw on a coat and went to look.
Once outside, I felt full of dread. This was Jay’s nightmare. It was really cold that morning, around 10 degrees, and those cows could have gone anywhere. Because we are not really ranchers, our property doesn’t have the safeguards and setup real ranchers use to contain livestock, namely cattle guards and fences. Jay has always stressed the importance of checking and double checking the gate of the corral where they are penned because if they got out, there really is nothing to stop them from wandering away. And wander they did.

Because it had snowed the night before, we at least had hoof prints to track. Considering the lack of snow this winter, it felt like a tender mercy to have some clues to use in our search. Of course, those “clues” went everywhere in every direction. The steers had been out of their corral for probably 18-20 hours and they had plenty of time to scatter. Following their trails felt like one of those Family Circus cartoons, with a dotted line meandering around only to end up 10 feet away. We were circling trees. Ducking under branches. Criss crossing paths. Without a coat, Seth went north. Without gloves or boots, Sam went west. Without a clue, I went east. With a bucket of grain and halters to put on their heads and neck when he found them, Jay went south. One of us was actually prepared to search and rescue.

While searching, I kept thinking, “What will I do if I even find these cows? Get on and ride them back? Sing to them? Flap my arms and shout, “Hey cow!” (which is all I ever do on the annual cattle drive). Even though I own a pair of cowboy boots AND a steer necklace I don once a year at the county fair, I do not actually possess any real cowgirl skills. Seth and Sam have a lot more experience than I do but they were still ill equipped to do anything with the cows should they be the ones to find them. An hour passed and both boys had red skin and teeth chattering from the cold. Thankfully, for all of us, after about an hour and a half of searching, Jay called and told me he had found them. They were over a mile away from our property.

Of course, I can’t spend a morning looking for lost steers without thinking about the Parable of the Lost Sheep. These are some of my thoughts following our own personal Parable of the Lost Steers.

• You look for things that have value to you. These steers are investments and income for our boys and not having them anymore was a potential loss of thousands of dollars. Monetary loss is easy to quantify but the Lord tells us in D&C 18:10, “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.” My human and flawed heart immediately recognized and reacted to the loss of money but it is much slower and conflicted about the potential loss of souls when friends, family and ward members wander off.  The Lord must know this about me, and perhaps the rest of mankind, because he often compares our worth to earthly treasures and riches as if trying to make our worth easier to understand. Do we believe Him? Do we value each other like we value our possessions of great monetary worth?

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• Everything that is usually essential, important and a priority for each of us in the morning took a back seat when Jay's urgent request to help search for the lost steers came. Our help was needed right then. Not in an hour. Not tomorrow. Not when we could schedule time that worked best for us. The pancake batter stayed in the bowl. Daniel missed his bus. Seth and Sam missed Seminary. All the boys were late to school. Jay missed his marathon training run. I didn’t go work out. Jay was late for work and I postponed a scheduled Relief Society presidency meeting. We all searched still wearing pajamas (Jay was actually already in his running clothes). My point is that all of the important things that we must do every day…valuable, worthy, righteous things…that day…they became the “ninety and nine.” I have always struggled to understand the Lord’s tone in this scripture, “What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? (Luke 15:4). His, “well…duh, it’s obvious everyone would” redundant question always confused me because, to me, the obvious thing is to stay with the 99 because there are more of them! And they didn’t wander off! Doesn’t their obedience and righteousness earn them the constant presence of the shepherd? But, thanks to our lost steers, I can see this now a little differently. That morning, my “99” other things were left because they could be. They weren’t going anywhere. I knew I wasn’t leaving them forever or that by going to help search for the steers, I was forever choosing to look for steers over all the other important things in my day. But, that day…for those steers…because I was asked and because I recognized the urgency of the search…I went. 

• Jay loves these steers. These steers love Jay. The boys eventually take over most of the duties as the weather gets warmer and school gets out but Jay handles almost all of the feeding and care responsibilities during the winter because, well, honestly, he’s better at it but also because he truly loves doing it. So, I’m not exaggerating when I say those steers really do love Jay. He is the embodiment of all of their comfort. He brings them food every day. He makes sure they have water. He cleans out their living quarters so they don’t have to abide in their own stink and waste. He calms their skittishness and animal instincts to be afraid. He grooms them and supplies everything they need for optimal growth and development. And even with all of that being provided for them, they still wandered off at the first opportunity they had. Why? I think because, like us, they are prone to wander. It is their nature. My first assumption as to how they escaped was that one of the boys didn't secure the gate to the corral after working with them on Monday morning because there was no school. Neither Sam nor Henry had any recollection of leaving the gate unlatched but just because they were unaware of their action or lack of action didn’t mean it didn’t occur. Likewise, sometimes our actions or neglect may contribute to the reasons others may use to leave the church. Blame was thrown around until the evidence told a different story. What actually happened was Sam’s steer, Frank Sinatra, who is pretty curious and smart for a cow, licked and scratched with his head at the back gate’s handle until it must have opened and he was free to wander off. And, wouldn’t you know it, Henry’s steer, Charlie Chaplin, followed him right out. As exciting as the initial thrill of freedom and discovery must have been, they were soon lost and unable to find their way back on their own because pretty smart for a cow doesn’t actually mean smart. Just like the sheep in the hymn “Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd,” these cows were now hungry and helpless and cold. I got a little teary when Jay told me Frank started running toward him when he finally found them. Maybe Frank was running for Jay or maybe he was running towards the bucket of grain in Jay’s hands, but Frank’s reaction showed he remembered Jay and the safety, comfort and security Jay provides. Charlie didn’t run towards Jay but he did stay put, allowed Jay put on his halter and followed Jay and Frank back home. I could symbolize and metaphor for quite awhile about all of this but I’ll let you draw your own comparisons and lessons.

• My boys laughed at me when I started sharing some of my thoughts about this experience, comparing it to the Parable of the Lost Sheep. “Wait,” Seth said, “Are you saying Dad is Jesus?” His funny response came after I explained that all of us had different incentives as to why we went to help. As sons with a healthy dose of fear and worry about what the consequences might be if they didn’t hearken and listen to their father’s command, they went out and looked but because one of them felt like it might have been his fault they were missing in the first place but also because they were a little bit afraid of what the mood in the house would be if they didn’t. A grumpy disappointed dad is not very fun. However, they weren’t prepared to endure for very long in the cold search because they left the house without coats, gloves or boots and I would guess, knowing them like I do, that there probably wasn’t a lot of zeal in their effort either. But…still…they went. My incentive, on the other hand, was not out of fear or stress about being responsible or that Jay would be mad at me if I didn’t go but, rather, because I love Jay and I know those steers are important to him. Personally, I do not have a connection to these cows. In fact, I had never even been to the barn to see them before this week. That is how uninvolved I am. But, I love Jay and his worry and stress is my worry and stress. I gave him my time as well as my best effort not because I care about these cows but because I care about him. Just like the boys, it isn't the perfect or best incentive but…still…I went. Jay’s incentive and reasons for searching were much more pure. He knows these steers. He cares about these steers. He armed himself with the equipment and tools he needed and that would best help him lead the cows safely back to the barn. It makes sense that he was the one that found them. So, were our efforts in vain? Should we have not bothered to go look because we had imperfect motives to do so? When Jay thanked us for helping, each of us responded that we actually didn't really help because none of us did anything except walk around in circles in the snow. But Jay’s response helped me understand the Lord’s perspective in the Parable of the Lost Sheep in a way I have never thought of before. He said, “No. You did help. I felt despondent thinking about losing the steers and it helped me knowing you were out there looking too - knowing I wasn’t out there searching alone. Knowing you guys were out looking made me more confident that they would eventually be found." I have never thought about the Good Shepherd’s feelings as anything besides loving and diligent. But, we must make Him incredibly sad when we wander. Perhaps even despondent with worry. So, even though we are far less pure in our motives and care, the Lord still needs and appreciates our help. Now, as awesome as I think Jay is, I’ll avoid the blasphemy and just say that he is not Jesus, just very Christlike in this story. Seth feels it is very important I make that distinction:-P

The Lord is our shepherd. Our cowboy. Our brother and our friend. His love, care, capacity, tenacity and sacrifice are what makes it possible to safely return to our beloved Heavenly Father and our heavenly home. I know this is true. I’m so grateful for experiences, stressful ones even, that help me better understand our Savior’s love for me and for you. He loves us whether we safely stay within his watchful care or if we wander off.  He loves us wherever we are. He just loves us. And as He loves us…let us also love one another. Wherever we are.

Charlie and Frank