My brother stood before us, not on a bank of the Big Blackfoot River, but suspended above the earth, free from all its laws, like a work of art. And I knew just as surely and just as clearly, that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last.– Normal Maclean, A River Runs Through It.
I am not sure if it correctly aligns with Orthodox theology, but one of the ways I know God exists, is the fact that perfection exists.
This afternoon was one of those days. We took my daughter to her very first horse riding lesson.
Now, I did not have a rural upbringing. My dad always wanted to have that for us, and for reasons I won’t discuss here, it just never materialized. For the most part, we lived in rented houses, in working class neighborhoods. I had a fine childhood–please don’t misunderstand. But I have been able to provide my own kids with very much the kind of thing he always wanted. And today I took some pictures.
I even spent a few minutes making some new friends.
I can’t go back and have a childhood with tractors, horses, wide open spaces, creeks and mountains right out my back door. So while I am spending so much of my adult life learning about farming and ranching, I don’t really have to. In some ways, being present for these moments is better. And every one of these moments is perfect. Only God could do that.