My son is a cowboy. Literally. He trains horses, he’s team roper, he wears the hat, the boots, and the spurs. I should have listened to that old Willy Nelson song, “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys.” But I didn’t.
Last month he called to tell me he was buying another horse and would bring it up for the two weeks he’d be staying with us over Christmas. He’s a school teacher by day, so he gets a long Christmas break. And because he lives at the opposite corner of the state from us, we love having that time to spend with him. And his horses. There were a few jokes with our friends about how everyone’s son comes home for the holidays hauling horses. And then, in a twist of fate involving his old truck and needed repairs or replacement, he has returned south leaving my winter paddock full of horses.
Over the past couple of months, I’ve been invited to participate in not one, not two, but three romance anthology proposals. This was all very unexpected because a) I don’t write romance and b) I’m not a fan of anthologies. But you know that old saw about looking a gift horse in the mouth. Or even better, that the Lord works in mysterious ways. I agreed to the first because the opportunity was presented, and I felt that it would be foolish to turn it down. I agreed to the second because I knew I’d enjoy working with the person who asked. I agreed to the third because it’s with a very special group of ladies close to my heart.
So this month I have a paddock full of horses and a calendar full of deadlines.
Isn’t that the way life works? So often it’s feast or famine. We have either too much, or too little, of the things in our lives. But God knows what we need and when we need it. He’ll give us the strength and grace to see it through.
Now I need to pull on my coat and boots, toss some hay to the horses, pitch a little … well … you know, and get back to my computer to pound out my next chapter. Write on!