I was huffing along this morning moaning to God about the state of things (namely my firewood supply — or lack thereof, the world in general, and my inability to “master” a certain yoga pose that I’ve been working on). As I came around the corner, the hill and the cows came into view. They looked so peaceful. It was chilly enough that their breath came out in great clouds of steam. They glanced up, mooed and grunted, and meanandered toward the bottom of the hill.
I need to be more like the cows . . . ackowledge the intrusion of fear, doubt, and inability, but not get stuck there.
I need to be more like the cows . . . trusting my needs will be provided for.
I need to be more like the cows . . . remembering that my yoga is to become not to forceably master.
Grace, it seems, is still at work in me.