I was around 8 years old. We were visiting our cousins at their farm. Two things stand out from that trip. It was my first time seeing a flying squirrel in action. I thought it was an impossibility, but then I saw it and my imagination went in all kinds of directions. The other event was my first encounter with a horse, upfront and personal. The initial introduction went well, carrots are always fun treats. However, the caution about being careful around a skittish house went right by me. No consideration on my part, no questions, and, as one might predict, no comprehension.
As my younger brothers fed the horse, I drifted to the side admiring his height, wondering what it would be like to ride this animal. As I disappeared behind the animal, I accidentally knocked something over, startling everyone, the horse included. His reaction was to kick out at the noise, which resulted in two hooves planting themselves in my stomach and launching me to the back wall of the barn. As much as I have wanted to, I have never completely trusted a horse since.
Learning to trust is rarely easy. It takes time. It usually comes with experience. It can start with a decision and build from there.
The sculpture took me back to my childhood. I had forgotten the story and the pain, only to remember it vividly decades later.
As I reflect, I find myself reaching for ideals, principles, and values I trust. I know every day will be a trip into the unknown. I want to consider the day ahead. I want to ask myself questions with the goal of comprehending and trusting. As today unfolds, I reach for Paul’s reminders of how I can approach today by “trusting God to shape the right living in us is a different story – no precarious climb up to heaven to recruit the Messiah, no dangerous descent into hell to rescue the Messiah.” (Romans 10.6, 7) I can embrace Divinity, defined by love, kindness, and compassion. She is living within us.
