Friday, January 1, 2016
Yesterday I was filling the water trough and a young horse came up to sniff me. He delicately and tentatively breathed me in - my glove, my sleeve, my cheek. I stood still. It would have been more efficient to leave the trough to fill on its own, but in his investigation of the various strange smells of me, a wonder filled me as the water line crept up the side of the trough. I am as mysterious to him as he is to me, this 600-pound creature who is so powerful yet utterly vulnerable.
He stopped sniffing to just stand beside me and breathe and together we watched the trough fill. Then I looked at the sky and wondered why God would give me this job that is so busy with people and tasks and responsibilities and concerns when all I long to do sometimes is look at the sky and listen to a horse breathe.
Then came the whispered answer, which made me lightheaded with that mysterious Presence and Love. "I gave you this job so you can look at the sky and listen to a horse breathe."
December has been so lovely. It's been quiet here at the Ranch. I had writing projects and house projects to do and I have puttered at them a bit, but mostly I've found joy in simple activities like filling troughs and scooping grain and sweeping barn floors. And listening to horses breathe. And talking with my family. And reading. And gazing at the fire in our fireplace.
And I think I feel like me again.
And I'm a little scared. I'm kinda scared of January's to-do lists and budgets and people issues and more things to do in a day than I can do and challenges that are way bigger than me.
But maybe, just maybe, there are more moments than I think in 2016 to just look at the sky and listen to a horse breathe. Maybe He loves those moments as much as I do. Maybe more.