The Voice Of Love Is Calling Part Ii: The ‘one’ Sheep, The Two Wolves… And The Two-Spirit Series

The Voice of Love is Calling Part II:

The ‘One’ Sheep, the Two Wolves… and the Two-spirit

The ‘One’ sheep was lost. Feeling ostracized, he fled from the flock, becoming more easily targeted prey. Instinctually knowing there was always a killer on the loose, the sheep was fearful. Darkness loomed. The evil wolf hunted, stalked his prey, and began tinkering with his new toy. Afraid the sheep ran, fearing death. However, the evil wolf exploited the kid’s weaknesses and continued to victimize the shunned sheep. First nipping at his wool, then scratching at the surface, reopening wounds created from the flock. The tantalizing taste of blood tempted the wolf to move to the more tender, untouched, sensitive skin. It would not be long before the evil wolf huffed, and he puffed, and he would scarf the poor sheep down. He was menacing and persistent in his pursuit. He worked to create new wounds, breaking the weakened lamb down. The sheep dodged in and out of the brush, hiding from the evil one. There was much weeping, there was gnawing at the sheep’s flesh, there was a ‘gnashing of teeth’, blood was spilled, the evil wolf was making his mark-- the mark of the beast.

The bloodied sheep recalled the ‘Good Shepherd’ often used the term ‘gnashing of teeth’ to tell tales of past wanderers, many who still suffered. The sheep now understood this to be him—he, too, was suffering. He had found the pains of injustice and inequality which were reinforced by the big-bad-wolf. The wolf who howled, ‘You are not worthy’, “You are not wanted’, ‘You are not good enough,' and ‘Nobody cares about You.’ Without any help, escape would be impossible for the heavily wounded sheep. The big-bad-wolf was too powerful.

Beat up, beat down, and beat every-which-way, an empty soullessness had settled in and taken over this marred and mangled sheep. Right as the sheep was certain life was ending and he would be consumed, for some unbeknownst reason, the evil wolf backed away from his blood-soaked prey. Somewhere, out in the distance, the sheep caught glimpse of what appeared to be a Pure Wolf. She appeared as Hope. She appeared as Love. She appeared as Power. She appeared as all things Good. She was Truth—She was Way—She was Life. She was so many things. She was undefinable. In his evilness, the battered sheep felt Her light. She, too, came as light! Her power seemed to draw the evil wolf away. Blood was shed by Him for him. The sheep wondered if he would survive.

In his forced retreat, howling almost as a hyena would, but in a much heavier hellish tone, the enemy continued taunting and ridiculing the lost sheep in his brokenness. Trying with all his might to lure that black sheep into certain death. But there She was, the Pure Wolf, Untouchable to the evil wolf—standing in his Way.

Devastated from a lengthy battle that seemed to last an eternity, the sheep were filled with indescribable hopelessness. There was a lingering thick, dense, suffocating air about, which cruelly complemented the empty void felt by the sheep. The enemy, the evil wolf, had been so masculine, so self-serving, such an overwhelming presence. He represented anger, hate, jealousy, cruelty, greed, shame, lies, false pride, arrogance, ego, envy, sorrow, regret, and all that was wrong in nature. Then, there was the Pure Wolf. Although he only had caught a glimpse of Her, at that moment, he felt Her LOVE, he saw Her Power, he now hoped in the Goodness of Her Being. She represented all things lovely and good; joy, peace, empathy, generosity, humility, kindness, serenity, hope… the sheep had felt the power from the Two-wolves.

The lost sheep didn’t quite know what to do, or where else to turn, so he began knocking on heaven’s door; he was tired, he was hurt, and he didn’t know if he could go on. How could life hurt so bad? How did he go so wrong? Unhealed wounds continued to bleed, and as he laid there feeling the closeness of death, once again he thought of life and the Energy and Love that was the Glorious Pure Wolf. Oh, how the kid wished there was an escape from the poor choices he made, from his aimlessly wandering, from wasted time, but the damage that was done. Or was it? Was it too late? He wondered. He was dying to himself. As the evilness continued to howl, somewhere off in the distance, the distressed and wounded sheep began to pass, thinking to himself, “I am done”. Begging the God he now believed might exist, to ‘take him’ from this cruel world.

In his final moments, his thoughts had shifted towards God. But, why God? For most of his life, he was taught God would consider his ‘type’ disgusting, an abomination, abhorrent, or worse-- if there is such a word. An unworthy, unwelcomed, black sheep-- the worst kind of sinner. A soulless murderer. A murderer of souls. And, on some level, he must have believed himself to be that type of disgrace. He believed those lies told to him by the world. The outcast sheep had unintentionally succumbed to darkness. And as the ousted sheep sat alone in his brokenness, he felt SO ALONE! If you have ever felt the pains of ‘alone’—YOU FEEL SO EXCRUSIATINGLY EMPTY. DAMAGED TO THE CORE OF YOUR BEING. Imagine being left to die in the loneliness of that dark. Feeling nobody was there. And, why should the world care? He was a black sheep… He was a wanderer… He was nobody… WHO CARED!?