Writer's Block

Since I seem to be seriously struggling with a terrible case of writer's block, I think I'll let my daughter "write" today's post.

Yesterday, we were playing in the living room and big girl commenced to tell me about one of her many adventures with her horse.  The horse's name was Sulee.  (I'm guessing at the spelling of this name that sounded like suh-LEE, not to be confused with Sulley, a.k.a. James P. Sullivan, who works at Monsters Inc.)  Anywho, Sulee was running fast on a broken bridge, with my girl on her back.  But my girl obviously has some super powers, because she reached in the saddle bag, pulled out a rope, tied one end to the horse's neck and the other to a tree (yes, all while riding)...and the rope was tied off at the perfect length to stop the horse just before it fell off the broken bridge!  The horse didn't fall, but they were in a perilous position, hanging over the edge.  My modern-day cowgirl decided to call for help.  And here is where things took an interesting turn, because I was imagining this call would be a loud yell for help, to which some other lone cowgirl or cowboy (heaven forbid) riding in the wild frontier would respond and come to rescue Sulee and her rider.  However, the police, ambulance, and firemen showed up, shattering my vision of a deserted, rusty, broken train bridge in a desert-like wilderness.  I realized this was not your average story of horses and the old western frontier.  I asked my girl how the police, ambulance, and firemen found her.  She called them from her cell phone of course.

I realize now that my big girl, in her four short years, has probably never seen a scene from an old western.  Why shouldn't horses ride right through a modern-day town or city, carry riders with cell phones, and when found in perilous situations, be rescued by modern-day rescue workers?  It's not a far-stretch at all for her little mind.  But it certainly collides with my ideas of what should and should not be.  I predicted how her story should go according to my limited imagination.

Which made me think...how often do I do this with God?  How often do I limit the story He is writing for me, according to my inferior imagination.  He can imagine and do far more than I can imagine.  My brain and thoughts are limited by my experience of 34 short years.  His are boundless like the universe He created, boundless like eternity, boundless like Him.

"To Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever.  Amen!"  Ephesians 3: 20-21

Today I'm praying to be wide open to His plans.  I want to experience a wild ride!  And when danger is approaching, I want to exhibit super-human powers.  I want to be shocked and awed by the twists and turns in my story.  And when I come to the end, I will be rescued.  Oh!  And I will ride a horse!

"I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, who rider is called Faithful and True...The armies of heaven were following Him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean..."  Revelation 19:11, 14