Russ was young. High school aged anyway. But for Russ, that’s old. Hell he’d been riding horses all of his life. And he thought it was a pretty tough one, too. He was born into Rusty Carroll’s training operation and those of you who know Rusty know that Russ may have been on to something. If there was one thing Mr. Carroll had, it was a work ethic. And if there was one thing Mr. Carroll wouldn’t tolerate, it was someone without one.
“You tired of riding that colt son?” Rusty half asked and half jabbed.
“Yes, ” came Russ’s Napoleon Dynomite-like reply. Half mad, half bewildered with total frustration mixed in.
“Then make a horse out of him then, ” came Rusty’s reply.
And so it is in life. To have a nice riding green horse, you have to get rid of the colt that’s within. Then, to have a finished horse, you have to “kill” that green horse as well. Only then can that trained horse’s new life begin. By the way, if you know me, you know how I train horses and you know that this is strictly metaphorically speaking. I can’t stand trainers who spend every day beating on the animals entrusted to them. It seems, the less you know, the more brutal you are.
Anyway, there has been much reflection on death and rising lately. It’s that time of year. Easter. The season of the Resurrection. My wife and I attend Faith Formation every other Monday and last night covered these same topics. It reminded me of the story that was shared above.
Basically, we have to let Our Lord shape us. And it’s not always warm fuzzies. In fact, it’s rarely warm fuzzies. You have to pay attention throughout the mess that is life; you never know what He is preparing you for. You have to keep what you learned and leave the actual experience behind; you can’t exist in the past, but you must learn from it.
And you have to die; new life with all of it’s experiences and mysteries will never come unless you let go of what should be dead.
Remember, bad things will happen.
And you will have no choice in the matter.
The only choice you have is to accept them, or stay hung up on it. Rebirth or squalor.