LOST
My son, riding on his favorite horse Rocket, was first in line going up the trail to our hunting camp.
“Just let Rocket go, he knows the way.” I called as we started up the familiar trail. Behind Stephen was his buddy, Jeremy riding Blue, then came a friend of ours, *Kevin. I was on Sunny, leading a couple of pack horses. We were short one horse, so John had elected to walk with another hunter, *Tim who preferred not to ride. (*names are changed)

I was excited. Stephen and Jeremy were coming into camp to hunt for the weekend. How fun was that! A whole weekend to show my son the wonders of our hunting area, the joys of hunting camp, and hopefully an elk or deer along the way.

I watched Stephen ride up the trail; he sat sure and confident on the quick stepping Rocket. He had a natural seat, for not having ridden a lot, he rode very well. Since we had acquired the Morgan spitfire, Rocket, who lived up to his name, Stephen had been riding a lot more, bringing out Jeremy and other friends and putting them on our other horses, even though they had little experience at riding. They rode and raced all over our ridge at home. This was his first experience riding mountain trails and going to hunting camp.

“When we get to camp, I’ll have ridden 36 miles today,” I called to the guys ahead of me.

Stephen twisted in the saddle so he could look back, “Oh wow! Why that far? I thought camp was only 9 miles.”

“We made another trip today when we brought out the Smiths, then took a load of hay back in. Don’t worry it is only 9 miles, we should be there before dark.”

We rode into camp in twilight, unsaddled horses, watered them, tied them to high lines, fed hay and grain, then I lit the lanterns and the guys carried their gear into the hunter’s tent just as John and Tim arrived to help unload the panyards.

I had a quick meal planned of hamburgers grilled over the fire, so I asked Stephen to get a fire going, which he did quickly and proficiently, having practiced many times when we were camping or hunting. I prepared the rest of the simple meal, baked beans, fried potatoes, canned green beans, while the guys relaxed around the fire on stumps or the ground and John grilled burgers on a grate over the fire.

I believe the boys did the dishes, then there was more visiting and joking around the fire since the November night was balmy. Everyone was anticipating the next day’s hunt.

Honestly, I can’t remember what the hunting plans were exactly. Usually I stayed in camp while John took hunters out, unless I was guiding, but this was different. These were my boys! I’m sure, before dawn, we rode up the canyon to the fork, where it became two canyons, and left the horses, then John took two guys up one fork and I took two up another. Maybe Jeremy can help me on this, but I’m thinking John took the boys. But I do know that no one shot game.

When we met back at the fork and ate some lunch, it was decided that I should take the horses back and the guys would split up and hunt back to camp. Two on one side of the creek and three on the other, it was easy, follow the creek to camp.

About dusk as I was putting the finishing touches on dinner, John, Stephen and Jeremy trudged into camp. Soon after Tim showed up looking tired but happy. No legal game was spotted although Stephen and Jeremy had seen a monster moose, making their day.

Expecting Kevin to come soon, we waited supper. However, after awhile when he didn’t show up, the hungry crew dug in. John hung a lantern on a tree near the creek so Kevin could see it from the other side, where Tim said he last saw him. We finished eating and I started dishes, still no Kevin. We were beginning to get concerned.

It seemed it would be hard to get lost in the narrow canyon with the creek running by camp, but in the dark things can be very confusing. John yelled and shot a gun. We heard no answer. They built up the outside fire and yelled and shot some more.

“Okay,” I said a couple hours after dark, “I think it’s time to put Gabe on the trail.” Gabe was my bloodhound, a trained search dog. “The problem is we have to find the last place where you know he was. Can you find where you split up, Tim?”

Tim thought he could back track through the timber and find it, but in the dark with no snow, it would be tough. The night was chilly so we dressed to be out all night. John would stay in camp in case Kevin came back and would shoot twice in the air, so we would know. If we found him and needed horses we would shoot and head for the main trail.

Tim gave me a t-shirt Kevin had worn the day before and I put it in a plastic bag inside my backpack. Gabe wore the tracking harness, but I snapped the long lead to his collar. I would not snap it to the harness until the search was started, that was one of his cues to start tracking. He looked at me with big brown eyes, funny quirky Gabe, suddenly very serious and intent. He knew he was going to work.

Tim led us, winding through the trees awhile, and then walked to the creek, “I’m sure I crossed on this log, it wasn’t too far on the other side that we decided to split up. He wanted to stay closer to the canyon side, maybe go a bit up on it so he could see a ways down stream.” So we crossed the creek on the log, Gabe a bit wobbly but making it, then we walked up stream for a bit.

Flashing the light around, Tim stopped, “I’m not sure exactly where we separated,” he said, “but he was with me here, at this stump. I remember we sat down for awhile, then we decided to split, but we walked together for a short ways.”

“Okay, this will do,” Opening my backpack, I pulled out the t-shirt, “just come over here, Tim so Gabe can get a good whiff of you, so he won’t follow your scent.”

Tim rubbed Gabe’s ears as the big hound sniffed him. Then I held the t-shirt in front of Gabe and said, “smell”. The hound buried his nose in it, then flipped his long ears and whirled around. He was ready.

I snapped the long line onto his harness and said, “Go find”. Gabe’s head went down, his nose to the ground and he snuffled loudly from side to side. He smelled the stump all over, and then circled around a couple of times. Soon he straightened out and after a few steps, he shook all over. “Ok, Mom, I’ve got it!” was what he was saying.

Head down, nose skimming the ground, he zigzagged slightly to catch the edges of the scent path. The scent was fairly fresh so he moved at a good pace, pulling me along by the leash, Tim and the boys following. Suddenly he stopped, moved back and forth, then circled back. He had lost the trail, but it took only a minute or so to find where the turn had been made, then he lined out again. I knew that must have been where the two men split.

We were only on the trail for a little while when we heard the gun shots. Two of them, Kevin had made his way back to camp. Sure enough after we splashed across the ice cold creek, Gabe suddenly took off running right into the tent.

When I ducked under the flap, I saw Gabe leaning against Kevin, wagging his tail wildly, mouth open in a big grin he looked at me as if to say, “the lost is found, Mom!”

NEVER FORSAKEN
“Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep, which was lost!
I say to you that likewise there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance.” Luke 15:6-7

Lost maybe but never forsaken. Jesus the Good Shepherd finds His lost sheep. Always. Even when those sheep wonder astray, even when they leave the shepherd’s fold and His care. Jesus will find them and rescue them, but never will He forsake them. Sometimes He has to carry them Home to Heaven, but they are not forsaken, they are not forgotten, they are found. They are rescued.

Stephen, my son, got lost in life. Somehow, he wondered off God’s path. He knew he was on the wrong trail, he knew he needed to come back to God’s way. And he tried, but somehow that downhill trail winding to the valley floor seemed far better than the uphill climb to God’s side. The song of a flowing stream and the allure of cool shade pulled him downward. So he spiraled down hill until he became entangled in the brambles.

I believe Stephen called his Savior’s name, that night two years ago. Jesus, the Shepherd, went searching for His lost sheep. Jesus did not forsake my son! The loving Shepherd wrapped his arms around Stephen and lifted him from the thorns. For some reason unknown to us here on earth, the Mighty Prince of Heaven carried my son Home.

It matters not why or what, it only matters that Stephen, though he may have been lost, is now found. He was never forsaken.

Two years to Stephen is not even a drop in Eternity. Right now, he runs in those green pastures of Heaven and walks beside the still, peaceful waters. He lives and breathes in a land where there is no more trouble, no trials or pain, surrounded by many loved ones, ever close to the Shepherds side. He is loved. He is free. He is perfect.

Are you lost? Caught in brambles, with no way out? Maybe you don’t know Jesus. Call on His name right now, ask Him to be your Savior, to forgive your sins, to lift you from the brambles and help you find your way on His path.

Maybe you know Jesus but you have lost your way. Like Stephen, you have taken the downhill path. Are you trapped by the thorns? Lost in the darkness? Cry out to your Shepherd. He will hear you. He always comes. He will lift you from the thickets and set you on your feet and help you climb.

Jesus never forsakes his own. Though we walk in the midst of trouble, He will revive us. He will stretch out His hand against that which holds us, fear, anger, bitterness, worry, sin. His right hand will save us. He perfects our lives. He knows us. His love endures forever! We are never forsaken. (from Ps. 138:3, 7, 8)

“The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. And those who know Your name will put their trust in You. For You Lord have not forsaken those who seek You.” Ps. 9:1-10
Read Luke 15:1-10