“Your mother died today.”
That was the first thing he said to us. At that moment, my 8-year-old self became a hollow shell. Night after night I lay awake and felt the universe crush my fragile lining.
Shortly after her death, my Dad took us to a dude ranch where I had my own horse for the week. On our final outing, we went for a picnic. We rode to the edge of a golden meadow and paused at the precipice. The leader kicked his horse to a gallop and I followed.
To capture the light is to tap beauty—the silver lining, the optimistic angle, the gathering of what remains to build again.
I WAS GOING TO BE OKAY . . .
AUTHOR & MENTOR
My horse took flight—yes, we flew over the prairie that day, he and I. I felt the breath in his lungs and the rhythm of his hooves in my soul. We melted together—his black mane in my fingers became my hand, his neck my neck, his breath my breath.
Then a window opened to my heart, and light flooded in and filled me with hope. My emptying had made incredible space for light. I felt it rise within me, and the hands of God upon me. Maybe we even went to heaven that day and brought an angel back, because after that, I knew I was going to be okay. I had captured the light.
FINALLY, BROTHERS AND SISTERS, WHATEVER IS TRUE, WHATEVER IS NOBLE, WHATEVER IS RIGHT, WHATEVER IS PURE, WHATEVER IS LOVELY, WHATEVER IS ADMIRABLE—IF ANYTHING. IS EXCELLENT OR PRAISEWORTHY—THINK ABOUT SUCH THINGS.
PHILIPPIANS 4:8
