Whoa, There!

{via}

"Do not be like the horse or the mule, which have no understanding but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you."

~Psalm 32:9

Upon first glancing over this, I got a bit miffed. Horses aren't dumb, and from my perspective, they've got plenty of understanding. And they don't necessarily need a bit to be ridden, much less come to me. So maybe their teeth occupy more space in their heads than their brains, but that doesn't mean they're dumb!

Whoa-ho-ho-hold up, there. First off, did I seriously get miffed by the words of God? (And second, never did He call them dumb, so I'm going to forget I even said that.) But anyway, I half-halted and paused to think about what He really meant there.

I remembered that, when I went trail riding for a friend's birthday a couple weeks ago, the particular horse I was on was feeling rather peckish and swung his head to the side every chance he got to snatch at a juicy cluster of grass or leaves. Every time I had to tug back on the reins and say, "Hello. I'm still up here," he'd grudgingly listen and get back to work. But now I'm relating with the horse instead of the rider.

{via}

Often I snatch at the little goodies at the side of the path (computer, books, and other things that vie for my attention) and often I ignore God's tugging at the reins. I get caught up in how good this looks right now and forget that if I'd just focus on the road and get back to the barn, I'd get a nice hosing-down and get put into my cozy stall where dinner waits (not to mention I'd be with all my buddies). It's not hard to remember that I've got a rider Who's directing my steps toward heaven, but it's often difficult to surrender that control over to Him. (And, because I'm hard-headed and obsessed, it's easy to get miffed.)

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|
PS--Ben's birthday was Saturday. He's seventeen now. This time next year we'll be packing him off to go to college. :(

from the Daily Life of a Florida Fairy

{i'm so sorry guys... i promise a real post soon!!}

The old grandfather clock wiped his hands slowly across his face, fingers ticking nearer and nearer to the number nine. His insides did not work quite as smoothly as they once did, and gears whirred loudly in his stomach. And deep in his heart, shielded by his dark oak skin, a tiny pair of wings twitched.

The face that was attached to these wings twisted in a sleepy grimace. Long eyelashes fluttered with the remnants of a dream, and then popped open to reveal bright jade orbs. “Yeep!” the little creature cried, leaping a full three inches into the air before slamming back down on the pincushion that served as its bed.

“Gnugh.”

Elysia knew her first word – at least, something sounding like a word – to greet the morning was not particularly polite; but, quite frankly, it was all she could manage for the time being. She rubbed her eyes and listened to old Grandfather. Wearily pulling herself upright, she pushed aside some scraps of quilting fabric and groped behind her for a wing.

Once caught, Elysia proceeded to rub some life back into the little bugger. She chuckled impishly. Many a time had she heard humans complaining about a hand or foot falling asleep. She had dealt with that, too, but when it happened to her wings… well, it was a lot worse.

Elysia yawned widely – much too wide for her little face – and switched to the other wing. Old Grandfather was old and rickety, yes, but he always chimed at nine in the morning, on the dot. And nine-on-the-dot couldn’t be too much farther away. If she didn’t want to go deaf, she had better not be inside when the gongs went off.

She rolled off the pincushion and landed on her knees. Her walnut-shell slippers were never where she wanted them to be. Instead of staying right beside the bed where she had put them last night – at least, she thought – they managed to be all the way across the little room. She scurried over on her hands and knees, quickly put them on, and grabbed her day dress on her way out. She was halfway down from the attic before old Grandfather woke up.

The first thing Elysia did was fly straight to the mousetrap on the second floor, in the bedroom with the window overlooking the trees. But a disappointing sight met her there. The mousetrap was empty.

Spirits low, Elysia sank to the windowsill. She could have sworn that it had cheese, even if rather old cheese, the previous night. Oh. Elysia grinned cheekily at her reflection in the glass. Last night. She had eaten it then.

A sudden movement outside drew her focus past her image, and her full cherry lips immediately pulled down in a frown. A large white moving van was tossing a dust cloud into the air. She crossed her arms and spread out dramatically on her stomach. Just when she was getting used to being alone with old Grandfather.

~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|