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Good evening, little lambs. Tonight's story is called The Lamb Who Stopped, inspired by the Gospel of Luke ten twenty five to thirty seven. Being a good neighbor isn't about how long you've known someone or how big and brave you are, it's about who actually stops. Tonight on Shepherd's Hill, a race for the best seat by the fire is about to show Biscuit and the whole flock exactly what that means. Three lambs were almost to the top of Shepherd's Hill, running so fast their hooves barely touched the grass, when Biskit glanced over her shoulder and saw she was in the lead. Tonight old Woolley was telling the best story he knew, the one about the star that moved, and whoever reached the fire circle first got the warm flat stone closest to the flames. Biskit loved that stone. She loved winning even more. Down at the lower path where the little creek crossed over a line of flat stepping stones, Pebble's hoof slipped between two rocks and wedged there tight as a cork in a jug. He pulled, he twisted. He could not get it free, and the creek water was cold around his leg. Help, he called. But the lambs thundering past were all looking up the hill, not down at the creek, and his voice got lost in the sound of hooves. Biscuit heard something. She slowed for half a second, looked toward the creek, saw a shape down there, and then looked back up at the fire circle, already filling with lambs. Someone else will stop, she thought, and kept running. She told herself that twice all the way to the top, as if saying it twice made it truer. But one lamb had not been running at all. Mallow usually walked the far edge of the path, a little behind everyone else, the way she always did, knew enough to the flock that she still wasn't sure which games she was allowed to join. She was the one who heard Pebble clearly, because she was close enough and slow enough to hear him. She did not know Pebble well. They had never sat together at the fire. None of that mattered once she saw his legs shaking in the cold water. She climbed down, braced her front hooves against the bigger stone, and pushed until the rock gave way just enough for Pebble to pull free. Then she did not leave. She stayed in the creek with him while he caught his breath, draped her own wool wrap over his shoulders, and listened to him talk until his teeth stopped chattering. Up at the fire circle, Jesus sat down among the lambs, looked around at all the bright, breathless faces, and asked a simple question. Where are Mallow and Pebble? Nobody answered right away. Bisket felt something small and uncomfortable turn over inside her, like a stone she hadn't noticed she'd been carrying. She had seen Pebble, she had kept running anyway. Jesus led the flock back down the hill himself. They found Mallow still sitting beside Pebble at the creek's edge, her wrap around his shoulders, telling him a story of her own to keep his mind off the cold. She stayed with him, Jesus said, looking at the two of them. She didn't ask if she knew him well enough, or if it was her turn to help, or whether someone more important should do it instead. She just stopped. He looked around at the others. A good neighbor is anyone who stops to help. It doesn't matter how long you've been part of the flock or how well you already know each other. It only matters that you stop. Biskit found she could not stay quiet. But Mallow is the newest lamb here, she said. She barely sits with us at the fire most nights. How did she know what to do when I didn't even stop to find out? It was Pebble who answered, his voice still a little shaky from the cold. She didn't know the way to fix it any better than anyone else would have, he said, slowly, working it out as he said it. She just didn't leave. Biskit looked at her own hooves, dusty from running. She wasn't sure yet that she would stop the next time she heard a small sound she could ignore. But she wanted to be the kind of lamb who did, and that wanting felt like the first real step toward it. Old Woolly had followed them all the way down, his story still tucked inside him, unspoken. Well, he said, settling onto a low rock by the creek instead of the warm flat stone at the top of the hill. I suppose I'll tell it right here by the water, where everyone actually is. And so he did. The whole flock gathered close around the little creek fire that night. Pebble wrapped snug between mallow and biscuit, and nobody missed a single word. Being a good neighbor was never about whether you'd stop some day. It was about stopping today for whoever needed you, whether or not you'd ever sat together by the fire before. Mallow didn't wait to be asked twice, and that was the whole of it. As you close your eyes tonight, think of Mallow stopping in the cold water without a second thought, and biscuit learning that the best seat by the fire is never as good as the seat beside someone who needs you. Jesus is always glad when we notice who is hurting nearby, and he is always ready to help us be braver about stopping than we think we can be. Dear Jesus, help me notice when someone near me needs help, even if I don't know them very well. Give me the courage to stop, even when I want to keep running towards something good. Thank you for always stopping for me. Amen. Good night, little lamb. God loves you so much. Sweet dreams.