BUCKING HORSE

BUCKING HORSE

In a previous blog post, “The Habit of Not,” I asked myself this question: Had I developed a habit of not seeing or listening to my heart when it whispered personal truths? The example I shared then was my lack of acknowledgment that hospitality, hosting, and entertaining others often tied me into a knot. That question lingered.

I describe myself as accomplished, with a healthy dose of ego and self-esteem built from the inside out. When a crack appears in my solidly constructed armor, as it did recently, the cause is usually tied to my expectations of others, negative words unintentionally spoken to me—I hope—or my own indulgence in comparison-isms. On my good days, I rebound quickly. I remind myself that expectations are the bedrock of disappointment, and I affirm that I am one of a kind and comparison is futile. On the not-so-good days, my armor cracks ever so slightly, and my confidence seeps out like water poured into a cracked vase.

In May, the Black Rodeo came to a city about an hour’s drive from my hometown. It promised to be a memorable event, and it did not disappoint. I watched Black cowboys lose points because calves wiggled free from the rope. I saw champion riders thrown from bucking horses in less than eight seconds. I saw a bull rider taken from the stadium on a stretcher. These cowboys and cowgirls were accomplished, skilled riders with years of experience. They were champions. And yet, on that Saturday night in late May, the horse, the calf, and the bull got the best of them.

I am currently engaged in a new creative adventure: using textile—fabric—to create a piece of visual art. The knot of overdoing hospitality, because we had houseguests, intersected with my lack of knowledge and experience as I tried to reach a self-imposed goal of completing something before the next class. With the houseguest present, I continued to work on the piece. After watching me for a bit, one of them asked an innocent question: “Do you think your stitches are getting better?” The question found the crack in my armor, and like water seeping slowly through an unseen crack in a ceiling, my confidence began to seep away.

Small, innocuous words, spoken innocently, became my bucking horse at the rodeo. For a while, I was thrown to the ground. What saved the day? Like the rider, I got up, dusted myself off, and spoke these words: “This isn’t my first rodeo.” I have been knocked down, thrown off, and stepped on while trying to do something new many times. Still, I got up.

At the end of the first six months of 2026, what has knocked you down? What whispers of the heart have you silenced? What cracks have you discovered in your armor? What commitment—or recommitment—will you make to end 2026 better than you entered it?

Proverbs 24:16

Ponder this thought: Things happen when you pay attention to your intentions.

AND HE IS DOWN