My new tendency is to flit from book to book, pausing to savour a hint of its flavour before I move on to another.
Books beckon to us. They may call insistently like a whiny child or lure siren-seductively with an irresistible boldness.
Others whisper soft and insinuate themselves around our hearts. We feel crushed to come to the end of their words.
Those we need to work through cause stopping pauses for reflection as well as working on the suggested activities or questions.
I’ve been dipping in and out of the ‘read, pause, ponder, pray and respond’ type over the last few weeks, hence my somewhat distracted manner.
But fruit is appearing as I am being inspired to delve deep into soul territory and to unleash new areas of creativity.
And you, dear reader, can taste a tidbit here as I share a story from my childhood memories.
“Huge yellow teeth grinning inanely within a mouth cavernous and dangerously close to my shaking hands, I proffer the fruit as homage, offering. It is snaffled noisily.
Breath puffs out in snorts and starts from flared nostrils, making smoky circles in the air.
I’m entranced by a fine conker-shiny coat, by swish of thick whiplash tail, by nodding of head and stamping of hooves.
Horses were a rarity for me. City living doesn’t suit them.
No place we lived in had room for more than a couple of cats, a cage of pet mice, small bowl of goldfish and some budgerigars. And most of them vanished when we moved into a flat with no garden of our own.
Even a field looks far too small to contain this boisterous frame, this much compressed energy.
Smell of shoe leather assails my nose as saddle is hoisted into place, bit and bridle attached, reins close to catch hold of. We’re ready to ride. At least this magnificent beast is. I’m scared and exhilarated by turns.
Heart thumping like a terrified caged bird, I obey instruction, swing shaky legs over saddle and find myself seated on hardness, close to glistening flank and fearsome head. Breathe… breathe… it will be OK.
We begin to move. Tentative at first. A gentle trot, nice and easy. I watch, listen and learn as my experienced companion urges me on. And wonder takes over. Look at me ~ I’m riding a horse!
We emerge from the field and hit gravel. Tarmac tilts me differently and clip-clop sounds become more pronounced. I cling on as we move forward with increasing momentum. Try to stay calm as we begin to canter a little.
I sense the weight of horse muscle and power between my legs. And I feel out of control, at the mercy of this great beast, even as I take the reins in a closer grip, sweat trickling down my spine.
Life seems more intense somehow, scenery seen from a higher perspective, senses alert with adrenaline. A child’s eye view now skewed by an equine ride.
All too soon the prancing, dancing giddiness of it comes to an end and I slide away from my carrier.
I bask in admiration for the way he lives, moves and has his being, and how, for a short moment in time, I could be a small part of it all.”
It’s been a while since I’ve written about my past, or done so in a positive way. All it took was a creative exercise prompt and the memory here flooded back.
And as we seek to follow after God’s heart, He encourages us to live in the moment with awareness and gratitude for His continual goodness and grace.
In due time, God will bring events to mind as a way of informing the present and aid His work in shaping us for the future.
*NOTE* ~ Friends, please let me know in the comments below if you would like to read more childhood remembrances. I am very slowly tackling some memoir writing. And because this is a departure from the norm for me here, I really value your opinion. Thank you! 🙂