Our little mate BINGO

 

Final farewell to this old boy today. First time ever he has not run out to greet us as we drove up the driveway.

Bingo has been a faithful and loved companion to mum & dad these past 7 or so years. And the best buddy any visiting grandchildren could have. He’s the kind of dog who never really believed he was a dog and always carried himself with human-like confidence. He took his chook guarding and dropped crumb eating roles seriously.

Bingo you were a good boy and we will miss you.  [Mizz, 4 July 2022]

 

 

Granny and Grandpa (abbreviated to G&G) went to the Ballarat animal shelter to look for a dog.  There were big dogs and little dogs; dogs with long hair and some with short hair; and dogs of all sorts of doggie shapes and colours.

The lady who cared for the dogs put a lead on a tall black dog, a Labrador, and G&G took her for a walk.  The tall black dog did not want to go for a walk with G&G, and she soon went back to her kennel.  They met several other dogs.  It seemed that they would have to go home without a dog.

The lady then pointed to a brown dog with very short legs.  “This may not be what you have in mind,” she said.  “His name is Bingo.”

Bingo had a sad, pleading look in his big grey eyes.  “Please, please,” he seemed to say.  “Please pick me”.

G&G took him for a walk.  Bingo was so excited!  He had no idea of walking on a lead like the Guide Dog puppies that G&G had looked after when their children were young.  He pulled this way and that, and the walk did not last long.

“What do you think?” Grandpa said.

“Let’s ask for his details,” Granny suggested.

There was not much information. 

He was a stray, who had been caught by the dog catcher.  He had no micro chip or tag, and no one came looking for him.  So he was castrated, then sent to the animal shelter, where G&G found him.

 

 

There was a farmer had a dog

and BINGO was his name, oh!

BINGO, BINGO, BINGO

and BINGO was his name, oh!

 

The lamb

The lamb in our story today is called Speckle.  I call him Speckle because he has black speckles and splashes on his white wool coat.

Speckle lives with his mother and other sheep in a paddock.  He likes to explore, and is particularly interested in the fence.  One day he was reaching through the fence to get some delicious grass  -  you know the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence  -  when something happened.

Speckle wriggled and pushed, and found he was at the other side of the fence.  The grass was green, and delicious.  There was lots of room for him to run and jump the way lambs do.  He called out to his mum “baaa”, and she called back “BAAA”.

After a while the sun started to slip down behind the hills in the West, and Speckle felt the cool breeze.  He heard his mother call “BAAA”.  “It’s time for you to come to me.  BAAA”.  Speckle called out to his mother “baaaa”.  He couldn’t find the hole in the fence.  He started to get scared, and called out “baaa-a-a”

At that time the old lady who lived nearby drove past.  She saw Speckle, outside the fence.  She heard his high pitched cry, “baaa”.  She heard the mother sheep call back “BAAA”.  The old lady quickly got help from her husband and they went to help Speckle find his way back into the paddock.  They had a few tries, and eventually he went through the gate which the old lady held open, as she directed him with her stick.  There were a lot of ewes and lambs that had gathered round to see what was happening.

Speckle made a bee line for his mum.  “Baaa” - “I missed you so much mum.  I was scared” he seemed to say.  He put his little head down and head butted his mother’s udder, and sucked her warm nourishing milk.

All this happened a couple of weeks ago.  But Jesus told a story—a parable—very much like the story of Speckle.  Jesus told the people that the shepherd rejoices over one lost sheep that has been found, more than over the 99 that never went astray.  (Matt 18: 12-14).  Jesus said “I am the good shepherd.” (John 10:11)

As we read God’s word the Bible we will find many stories about sheep and lambs and shepherds.  I want you to understand that we all are like sheep and sometimes get lost or go astray, just as Speckle did.  Jesus our shepherd calls us back into his arms where we are safe.

 

Scriptures and prayer for a memorial service

 A few weeks ago I wrote about the death of my friend.  

Today I would like to share the brief scriptures and prayer that I will read at her memorial service.  

 

 

Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.

The souls of the righteous are in the hands of God … They are at peace.

The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life.  The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in Me shall never die.”

 

Eternal God, our heavenly Father, who loves us with an everlasting love, and can turn the shadow of death into morning; help us now to wait upon you; with reverent and submissive hearts.  In the silence of this hour speak to us of eternal things, that through patience and comfort of Scriptures we may have hope, and be lifted above our darkness into the light and peace of your presence; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

 

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  

He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul: He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.  (Psalm 23)

 

 [This brief excerpt is based on the reading in the Book of Common Order of the Presbyterian Church of Australia, Second Edition 1965.]

My friend Teresa

My friend Teresa has passed from this life to the next.  

"As for mortals, their days are like grass.
They flourish like the flower of the field;
for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place knows it no more.

But the steadfast love of the Lord
is from everlasting to everlasting
on those who fear him,
and his righteousness to children's children."  [Psalm 103:15-17]

My thoughts today have been mixed: the sadness that comes with the loss of a friend, and the gladness that she is now beyond suffering, and safe in the arms of her Lord Jesus.  

I have opened the ancient, somewhat tattered copy of The Pilgrim's Progress, an allegory written by John Bunyan in the 1600s, and gone to the last chapter, where Christiana and other pilgrims cross over the Jordan River, and into the promised land.  Here are some brief excerpts:

 

    When Christiana saw that her time was come, and that she was the first of this company to go over, she called for Mr Great-heart her guide, and told him how matters were.  So he told her he was heartily glad of the news, and could have been glad had the post come for him.  Then she bid that he should give advice on how things should be prepared for her journey.  So he told her, saying, thus and thus it must be; and we that survive will accompany you to the river side.
    Then she called for her children and gave them her blessing, and told them, that she yet read with comfort the mark that was set on their foreheads, and was glad to see them with her there, and that they had kept their garments so white.
...

[then she called for and spoke to Mr Valiant-for-truth, Mr Stand-fast, old Mr Honest, Mr Ready-to-halt, Mr Despondency and his daughter Much-afraid, Mr Feeble-mind ...]

    Now the day drew on, that Christiana must be gone.  So the road  was full of people to see her take her journey.  But, behold, all the banks beyond the river were full of horses and chariots, which were come down from above to accompany her to the city gate.  So she came forth, entered the river, with a beckon of farewell to those that followed her to the river side.  The last words that she was heard to say here, were, I come, Lord, to be with thee, and bless thee.
    

{page 240-241} 

 

Loved Ones

I have recently returned home after visiting loved ones in 'sunny Queensland'.  This pic was taken in Brisbane.  Four of my five sisters, Jane, Chris, Barb and Anna, were present, and our brother Frank.  Marion was not able to make the trip this time.

As I move on in the ranks of senior members in the family, 'loved ones' have become more special, more precious.  I don't want to pretend that the love we share is without failings.  It's not.  I would say rather that it's the awareness of each other's unique personality, remembering our past, and not having to explain why, that enables a strong bond between loved ones.

I am not going to wander too far down memory lane, but today's second pic (taken in 1959) has the 'seven little Australians', as we were sometimes referred to, playing in the Pine River, near our home at Bald Hills.

In my visit it wasn't just the loved ones who made the time memorable.  We drove from Brisbane, West to Roma.  Places brought memories of crowded car trips - all of us like sardines in a can, no seatbelts, one sitting forward, the next back, and the ones most likely to get car sick having the window seats.  I think I learnt how to zone out, into my own quiet world,  watching what I could see of the distant horizon, the big sky, the constantly changing landscape. 

As I ponder the bond that has been maintained with my loved ones over the decades, I wonder how the next generation, and the next, will do.   I wonder if new generations of parents will value attachment - that physiological phenomenon that forms strong bonds between a newborn baby and the mother in the first instance, then the father, other family members, and the child's community.  Mothers today are expected to return to work quickly after childbirth.  In accepting this plan, they have to override their natural, hormonally guided instincts to nurture their young. It is worth remembering that the Judeo-Christian Scripture tells us that when God the creator saw everything that he had made, "indeed, it was very good".  My experience in midwifery, and in mothering, has convinced me that it IS very good.