Islander no longer lives alone on his island. Today, I sat on his back.
Funny, I thought he would merely be a fun project that I would sell in the spring . . . but he’s more like a chisel on my character. God may have tricked me into this. I’m glad He did. Painful, but necessary . . . and I love the island. Or rather, I love what it means to have crossed onto a feral animal’s land without being kicked off (literally). I am rising to the challenge offered me—although I almost didn’t. When I used the word feral, I meant it. But it was my mother who urged me to not back down. There’s an anointing on that horse. He is part of your formation.
And so he is. As I am forming him, he is forming me.