Over the summer, a story about a farm horse started to unfold in my mind:
"I'm standing at the edge of the meadow. I look beyond it. I see a new horizon. The wind tickles my face. I wonder how many more times I'll run this race. You wave the sword and Proverbs 3 crosses over my face. New is coming. Be ready for it. I see that woman with that fiery, red hair. So long, it blows in her face and beyond. Her penetrating eyes of green gaze at me. I'm at a farm, and she has a horse. She takes my hand and puts it on the horse's back. I stroke his hair, and it's muddy and coarse. Rough-hewn and rugged your life may be, she says. Rub it some more and soon it will be silky and smooth to the core. Take the living water. I'll put it on your hand. Keep rubbing that fur and let me wash away your soul's burrs. Silky and smooth it (your soul) will become. Keep rubbing and washing. Then you will see the riding and the shining. "
"I'm standing at the edge of the meadow. I look beyond it. I see a new horizon. The wind tickles my face. I wonder how many more times I'll run this race. You wave the sword and Proverbs 3 crosses over my face. New is coming. Be ready for it. I see that woman with that fiery, red hair. So long, it blows in her face and beyond. Her penetrating eyes of green gaze at me. I'm at a farm, and she has a horse. She takes my hand and puts it on the horse's back. I stroke his hair, and it's muddy and coarse. Rough-hewn and rugged your life may be, she says. Rub it some more and soon it will be silky and smooth to the core. Take the living water. I'll put it on your hand. Keep rubbing that fur and let me wash away your soul's burrs. Silky and smooth it (your soul) will become. Keep rubbing and washing. Then you will see the riding and the shining. "
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