Remain calm. The best advice.
Life is fragile. Handle with prayer.
Dancing on the edge of panic.
And a stillness holds me back.
Be still. Be still. Breathe. In. Out.
Running in place doesn’t make miles.
It’s a fast getaway on a rocking horse.
Feed goes in poop comes out.
Life is what goes in during the between.
Mind, body, spirit. Praying. Hoping.
Knowing what has to be done,
just not knowing how to the when.
Wishing I could sleep in the sun
with the cats and the dogs instead.
Hunting down elusive things and
doing work. Wondering at the
view ahead. Snowy roads.
Rainy days. Stormy maybe.
One step. Just one. Left or right?
God doesn’t count the steps
forward or back, He sees the heart.
He counts the tears. Not the fears.
He counts the scars that tell
we survived another bout.
He steps in His own time.
We walk, humbly at best,
and often kicking, screaming
being dragged by our stubborn
hands, heels dug in holding on.
I want place of ‘okay’ because
I know it. I don’t want the risk.
The unknown can be amazing.
But it is unknown and therefore
we are taught to fear it. Only the
reckless or crazy seek it wildly.
We leave limbo behind, boldly.
Dancing down an ice covered
highway, left or right turn?
Go. Just go. Get going.
Remain calm. Be still.
God’s got this. Breathe.
Live. Love. Laugh.
Pray. Pray first. Pray.
He spat a tobacco plug.
Prayin’ oughta be done first girl.
No sense askin’ for savin’ in a hurricane.
I nod. Listening. Knowing more was to come.
Pick yer horse. Saddle up. Give God the reins.
You gotta ride with God, prayerin first, not last.
He nods at a wild mare, she comes running but dashes away.
She’s got the devil in her. Praying won’t save ya from a wreck.
Prayer woulda told ya to ride the sorrel tho, she’s steady and true.
How often, do we grab the pretty bronc, saddle up and pray as we fly?
Gettin’ bucked off don’t mean the end, but why pray after the ground hits?
Prayin is first thing ya do before yer eyes open, an at the last as they close.
Be thankful for whatcha have, whatcha missed and what makes ya stronger.
Even a quiet horse will hop ya around, but that makes ya a better horseman.
I rub the ears of a sweet old mare, kid’s horse, and give her a treat. I nod. I hear.
for Open Link Night