Wide open pasture, I keep to the path worn by habited hooves. It is easier, no grass or forage to catch and drag feet through; bare, solid ground, heading straight to destination I know—the drinker I turned off to encourage cattle to corral where I’ve worked them; treating and cleaning eyes because they stay on dirty grass instead of daring to walk through open gates intentionally open for their betterment.
How often does God leave open same and, in our habit and fear of follow, we stay where we are no longer meant to be and blind ourselves of uncleanliness because we hold where and to what no longer serves?
Water turned on, I return to corral. They are huddled in pen. Every gate is open. They are entirely FREE, and they are caged—afraid to move to the Good and clean.
