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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Sparrow on the Fence Rail, inspired by the Gospel of Matthew ten twenty four to thirty three. Tonight's gospel gives us one of the softest promises in the whole Bible. Nothing, not even the smallest bird, falls out of God's sight, and that means nothing about you goes unnoticed either, not one hair, not one quiet hope. Because we are loved that completely, we never need to be afraid, and we never have to keep our love for Jesus tucked away like a secret. It's joyful news, worth saying right out loud. And so tonight we're back on Shepherd's Hill, where the stars are just beginning to prick through the blue dark, and Clover is about to learn how closely she is known. The whole flock had settled for the night, all except Clover, who lay curled in the cool grass just outside the fold, watching the sky turn from blue to black one star at a time. Biscuit had fallen asleep mid laugh, her golden tuft still bouncing with the joke. Old Wooly's breathing had gone slow and steady by the fire. But Clover's mind kept turning the way it always did. She was thinking about the meadow games that afternoon, how biscuit had been picked first, as always, laughing loud enough that three hills over could hear her, while Clover had stood quietly near the back, the way she often did. I'm not loud like biscuit. I don't stand out, she thought. If I just wasn't here one day, would anyone even notice? That's when she saw it, a small brown sparrow hopping along the fence rail, so plain and quick that if she'd blinked, she'd have missed it. It didn't sing. It didn't have bright feathers. It was just a small, ordinary bird in the dark, the kind a hundred lambs could walk past without a second look. They're easy to miss, aren't they? said a warm voice beside her. Clover startled, but it was only Jesus settling into the grass watching the same little bird. I was just thinking that, Clover admitted. It's so small. I bet nobody even knows it's there. I know it's there, Jesus said gently. That little sparrow could be sold for almost nothing. Most wouldn't look at it twice, but it never falls to the ground without my father knowing exactly where it is. He looked at her, his eyes so full of warmth she had to glance down at her hooves. And you, Clover, matter to him far more than any sparrow. Do you know he's counted every piece of wool on you? Not roughly, exactly. Clover almost laughed. That's an awful lot of counting for something so small. Nothing about you is too small for him to notice, Jesus said. So when the night feels big and you feel like you could slip into the back of the flock and nobody would know. Don't be afraid. You are not overlooked. Not by him, not ever. Clover let that settle into her like warmth soaking into cold wool. Then why do I always whisper it? she asked slowly. When we go around the fire and everyone says one thing they're glad about, I say mine, so quiet nobody can hear. I say I love you, but hardly out loud at all. Jesus smiled. Because it can feel safer to keep something precious, folded up small. But loving me isn't something to hide away in the dark, like it's fragile. It's good news, meant to be said where the light can reach it, meant to be heard. He nudged her gently with his shoulder. Try it tomorrow. Say it loud enough for biscuit to hear. The next evening, when the flock gathered by the fire and it came around to Clover's turn, she felt her voice want to shrink small the way it always did. But she thought of the little sparrow on the fence rail, so completely known even in the dark. And she found her voice real and clear. I love Jesus. That's what I'm glad for tonight. Biskit's head popped up, delighted. Say it again, she laughed, and old Woolly's silver face broke into the softest smile, and Clover's little clover sprig stood up straight and glad behind her ear. And so tonight we learned that nothing about you is too small for God to notice, not one hair, not one quiet hope. So you never have to be afraid of being overlooked, and you never have to keep your love for Jesus a secret because it's good news meant to be said out loud. Is there something you could say a little louder tomorrow, a thank you or an I love you, Jesus, that you usually only whisper. Dear Jesus, thank you for seeing me, even the small, quiet parts of me. Thank you for counting every hair, every hope, every tiny thing about me. Help me not be afraid, because I am never overlooked by you. And help me say out loud and glad that I love you. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.