Roy and Rooster's Excellent Adventure

 

And they shall no more be

a prey to the heathen,

neither shall the beast of the land devour them;

but they shall dwell safely,

and none shall make them afraid. . . .

Thus shall they know that

I the Lord their God am with them. . . .

— Ezekiel 34:28,30a

 

The doorbell rang. It was a neighbor from several blocks over. She walks the neighborhood every day for health reasons, and passes by frequently. I always wave heartily just before changing the channel and taking another bite of my ice cream sundae.

 

Anyway, this time, she couldn't just pass by - because there were two horses out on the street, bucking and carrying on.

 

That's not something that happens every day. Even though we live in an equestrian neighborhood, and a lot of people have small barns behind their houses, and horses in their dry-lot paddocks and acreage pastures, it is extremely rare to have them get out.

 

But, ah, spring! The recent warmup had sent a riot of ultra-fresh, ultra-green grass all over the neighborhood. Horses in these rare spring days are pressing up against their dry-lot fences, drooling. It must've been irresistible for these two to bust out and go get them some.

 

So I rushed outside with her. Sure enough, the neighbor's two sorrel geldings, Roy and Rooster, were out there, grazing and bucking and moving around nervously. They had on no halters or tack or anything.

 

 

 

It looked like they were about to bolt for dear life straight down the horse trail . . . to the busiest street in Omaha, West Dodge Road, one block north. As if that wasn't scary enough, there had been strong reports of a mountain lion roaming this area not that long ago. Roy and Rooster would be easy pickin's in the woods that connect our neighborhood to the river.

 

            And oh, boy, were they having the time of their lives, oblivious to all the dangers, just enjoying being out and being free.

 

Normally, wild horses couldn't get me to move very fast. But I loved the neighbors who owned these horses, so for THESE "wild" horses, I wanted to get them safe immediately. But how?

 

If this dear lady and I tried to approach Roy and Rooster with halters to try to secure them, they'd flee in that direction for sure. Horses are pack animals, and in strange situations, everything and everybody's a predator.

 

But if we DIDN'T approach them. . . .

 

            Fortunately, the walker friend used to own horses, too, and she had some horse sense. "Do you have any grain in your barn?" she asked me. Up until a few months ago, we fostered a couple of horses, and she was right: we DID have a plastic container full of leftover grain.

 

            I ran up there, scooped some into a bucket, and walked back down the street nonchalantly, like I did it every day. When I got fairly close, I shook the grain.

 

            Both the horses' heads popped up from their grazing, to stare at that magic bucket. They knew exactly what was in there. Fresh, new grass is delicious . . . but grain is divine!

 

            Once I got their attention, I turned back toward their barn and sauntered toward it. Like meek lambs, they cut out their bucking and carousing, put their heads almost down to the ground, and followed me straight back into their paddock.

 

One buried his nose in the bucket and the other nuzzled the small pile of grain I'd dumped on the ground. Neither looked particularly sorry for their rebellion; in fact, they seemed pretty pleased with themselves and excited about their adventure.

 

            There was a broken top fence rail on the ground. Its absence consequently had made the gate swing wide open. One of the horses must've thrown himself against that rail, and then they both sashayed out through the wide-open gate. We fiddled with the gate and got it to shut again.

 

            It was hard to know how long they were loose. Their owners were both gone, though we'd contacted them on their cell phones and they were sending reinforcements. It wasn't two minutes later that a family friend and horse expert arrived. She took it from there, moving the adventurers into their barn stalls until the paddock fence could be fixed.

 

 

            And we all lived happily ever after. It reminded me of the strong "fence" that you put around yourself when you're a believer in Christ: your conscience.

 

It keeps you from going where you shouldn't, because those places on the outside of your "fence" are unsafe for you. Once in a while, each one of us just HAS to have an "excellent adventure" - a rebellious foray into sin.

 

You can't stand the temptation, and so you bust out through the fence of your conscience, and put yourself in jeopardy.

 

But God always, always sends His wranglers in your path, to gently lead you home.

 

            Lord, thank You for the gift of a fence of conscience. And thank You for the wranglers known as my friends, who always catch me when I'm wandering - before I can run into heavy traffic or get eaten by mountain lions -- and gently lead me back to where my Trail Boss wants me to be. †