Glorious

Would you like something glorious for this Monday? Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?

Well this weekend…well, you know what I did this weekend.

Saturday I caught the end of the sunset after going all day.


Then Sunday, my ever optimistic boy was sure there was something left just for him.

​He always follows me when I go to feed Apache. Apache requires copious amounts of feed to keep him going, but that is not the point. The point is he always follows me, hopeful for a morsel. The others just stare at me, knowing it is not for them. Lito however, has not given up hope.

Petunia is the same way. Always trying to get to Apache’s feed. Hopeful that one day the buckets will not be secured well enough, just out of her reach. Or that she will somehow be taller.

Well, yesterday was both of their days. There was a tiny little bit left in that bag for my Lito man, despite the fact that he almost dumped me in the pond on Saturday. And Petunia somehow managed to lower one of Apache’s buckets just enough to stuff her face with some of his feed. Unfortunately for her, I had to put it back up and Petunia proof it.

Don’t give up hope, dear readers. AHAmoment. Be like Lito and Tuners. Keep searching. Keep seeking. Keep knocking. Keep praying. What you truly desire takes work. That is how you get it and what makes it all worth it.

Walk in love!

The Path Of Least Resistance

The sun is fierce this morning, y’all. It feels like it is going to be a hot one. But. I am not here to talk about the weather. Even if it might be easier to do.

My creative juices have not been flowing forth as of late if you have not been able to tell. In a funk, if you will. Again. Or still. It is what it is, but I do not have to like it.

It is also scary. Being vulnerable. This whole blog thing. Making it public…what was I thinking!? Woof.

bBTn_h

Someone once said I was brave for starting this blog and sharing my story. I do not feel very brave lately.

I meant to post this last night, but then I got self conscious about it and conveniently ran out of time. What about the other days since I last posted? Shh. I do not know.

I am just going to say it. Part of this funk leaves me feeling alone. There, I said it. It is true. There is more to it than that, like vocation, desires, future, faithfully waiting that all plays its roll in the bigger picture of the feeling. Blah, blah, blah.

But here is the thing.

There are times when I think it might be easier to not be me. Did a bomb just go off? Very brief, short times, but still very present. Easier to change what might be different about me and be like ‘everyone else.’ Be more accepted. Whatever all that means.

I might fit in more. Who cares? Did I ever care about that? I am not sure I really do.

Have more friends. Do I need more friends? I have never been one to have a huge group. Just my close, small group.

Maybe not be single? Eh. I would rather not be in a relationship than be in one where I could not be myself.

That I wouldn’t feel lost in this way. Is lost a strong word for this? I am not sure. No stronger than alone, I guess. No one else seems to be going through this. They are all out living their lives. Aren’t they? Is that not what the book of face and insta prove? Ha! I do not believe any of that for a second.

Not stuck in my head of circular thoughts, unable to still?

I have no way of knowing any of that, but I do not believe it would be easier. Indeed it would be harder. I tried to be someone I wasn’t once. It was terrible. It was in middle school. It sounds silly and trivial, I know, but it is true.

I had a very clear feeling that I was not like everyone else. I was too different. I was outside of the box. I felt like a round peg in a square hole. I liked different things, like going to the farm to ride. I did not care to break rules or do things we were not supposed to do. I was quiet. I related more to older people than kids my own age. I did not care to wear makeup or do my hair or wear nice clothes, much to my mother’s chagrin. I felt lost and I did not know why.

I told myself I was going to change. Be more square. Not talk about horses as much. Talk more. Make more friends. Look like someone I wasn’t. I do not know how long this lasted, but I do not think very long. I felt more lost than ever before. Like a stranger in my own skin. I suppose I made more ‘friends,’ but there were not real. I went back to being me because that was the only thing that felt right. It was easy and not hard.

I have been rather. Um. Restless as of late. Desiring a change and not knowing much more than that. Feeling an outside need for change, greater than my own desire. A greater and grander plan. I can’t see the path yet. I guess that is what seasons of waiting are to feel like. I do not know what it looks like or feels like. I am doing my best to seek Him and be faithful in my waiting. To grow and learn what He needs me to. To see and feel Him seeking me. To pray. Keeping knocking.


“Believe me, the choice that does not involve Him always ends up in a bad and downright disappointing place. It ends up in failure because it’s not the path we are meant to be on. It’s not the truth. Seek Him and you will find the truth.”
~Cory Morrow

Desiring a change in life, or rather, feeling the imminent change (and not knowing what it is) is different than changing who you are. Not being you. AHAmoment.

You were made a certain way for a reason. Divinely and uniquely made. Tailor-made. For a purpose. He has a plan and a path for that plan. The road and the gate are narrow, yet easy to follow when you keep your focus on Him. We like to make things complicated and difficult. Instead, keep it simple. His path is the path of least resistance.

Anyone still there??? Does any of this make sense? No?

Be yourself. Do not change what makes you, you.

Walk in love, dear readers.