- Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6
Once upon a time, in a busy city full of tall buildings, honking cars, and bright lights, there lived a
kind Shepherd named Trayvon. Trayvon wasn’t like the shepherds from long ago who watched
over fluffy sheep in green fields. Instead, he took care of a special flock of little toy sheep that he
kept in his downtown apartment. Each one was precious to him, with tiny painted faces and soft
wool he had sewn himself.
One sunny morning, Trayvon lined up his toy sheep on the windowsill to count them, just as he did every day. “One, two, three, four…” he said, smiling at their little faces. But when he got to
the end, he gasped. “Oh no! Only nine! Where’s my tenth sheep, Little Bella?”
Little Bella was his favorite—a tiny sheep with a red ribbon around her neck. Trayvon looked
under the couch, behind the TV, and even in the kitchen sink, but she was nowhere to be found. “She’s lost somewhere in this big city!” he cried. “I have to find her—she’s too precious to leave behind.”
So, Trayvon grabbed his backpack, locked his apartment door, and headed out into the bustling
downtown streets. He searched everywhere. He peeked into the coffee shop where people sipped their drinks—maybe Little Bella had rolled under a table? Nope, not there. He checked the park where pigeons pecked at crumbs—maybe she’d gotten stuck in the grass? Not there either. He even asked the street musician playing a guitar, “Have you seen a tiny sheep with a red ribbon?” The musician shook his head and kept strumming.
The city was so big, and Trayvon’s legs grew tired. The nine other sheep were safe at home, but
Trayvon couldn’t stop thinking about Little Bella. “She’s worth finding,” he said to himself. “Even
if I have to look all day!”
Finally, as the sun began to set and the streetlights flickered on, Trayvon passed by a little library with a big glass window. He peeked inside, and there, on a shelf next to a stack of books,
was Little Bella! A kid must have found her and left her there. Trayvon rushed in, scooped her up, and hugged her tight. “I found you, Little Bella! You’re so precious to me!”
That night, Trayvon threw a little party in his apartment. He invited his neighbors, and they ate cookies and laughed as Trayvon told the story of how he wouldn’t give up until he found his lost sheep. “Even in a huge city,” he said, “what’s precious is worth searching for.”
And from then on, every time Trayvon counted his sheep—one, two, three, all the way to ten—he smiled extra big, knowing Little Bella was safe and sound with the flock again.
Let’s imagine Little Bella’s side of the story—the tiny toy sheep with a red ribbon who got lost in the big, busy city. She wasn’t just a toy to Trayvon; she was special, with her soft wool and
bright ribbon that made her stand out among the flock. But one day, she went on an unexpected adventure.
It all started on that sunny morning when Trayvon was tidying up his apartment. Little Bella sat proudly on the windowsill with her nine brothers and sisters, watching the world outside. The window was cracked open just a little, letting in a warm breeze. Suddenly, a gust of wind whooshed through, and—oops!—Little Bella tumbled off the sill. She rolled across the floor,
bounced against a chair, and landed right by the open door just as Trayvon stepped out to grab
the mail. Before she knew it, she was swept outside by the hustle of his sneakers.
There she was, all alone on the noisy downtown sidewalk. People rushed by with their big feet, and Little Bella felt so small. A pigeon waddled over and pecked at her curiously. “I’m not a crumb!” she wanted to shout, but she was just a toy sheep, so she stayed quiet. The pigeon lost interest and flew off, leaving her in the middle of the street.
Then came a little boy with a bright red backpack. He spotted Little Bella and grinned. “Cool!” he said, picking her up. She felt his warm hands as he turned her over, admiring her ribbon. For a moment, she thought she’d found a new home. The boy carried her along as he skipped down
the street, passing the coffee shop where people laughed and the park where dogs barked. But then, his mom called, “Hurry up, we’re late!” In his rush, the boy dropped Little Bella near a big glass window—the little library downtown.
Little Bella landed with a soft thud on the sidewalk, right where people walked in and out. She felt the rumble of footsteps and heard the chatter of voices. “Where am I?” she wondered. Inside
the library, a girl with pigtails saw her through the window. “A lost toy!” the girl said. She ran outside, scooped Little Bella up, and carried her in. The library smelled like books and glue, and it was quieter than the busy streets. The girl set Little Bella on a shelf next to a stack of picture
books, saying, “Someone will find you here.”
Little Bella sat there, watching kids flip through pages and whisper stories. The sun moved across the sky, and she started to miss Trayvon’s cozy apartment—the way he’d count her
every morning and smile at her ribbon. She felt lonely, even with all the people around. “Will Trayvon find me?” she thought. “I’m just one little sheep in this huge city.”
But then, as the sky turned gold and the streetlights buzzed on, a familiar face appeared at the window. It was Trayvon! His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he rushed inside. “Little Bella!” he cried, lifting her gently. She couldn’t talk, but if she could, she’d have said, “I knew you’d come!”
Trayvon hugged her tight, and she felt safe again, her red ribbon crinkling against his shirt.
Back home, Little Bella listened as Trayvon told the neighbors about his search—how he’d looked all over the city because she was too precious to lose. She sat on the windowsill again,
back with her flock, feeling warm and loved. Her big adventure had been scary, but it taught her something: even when she was lost, Trayvon never stopped looking. And that made her feel like the most special sheep in the world.
