Don't Fence Me In... at least, not permanently

Last week Michael and I bought fifty step in plastic fence posts and six hundred feet of electric rope. With the grass eaten down to the ground in their pasture, there was nothing for the horses and donkeys to graze. So now we can move the portable fence to use other grass that is outside the board fence.
I watched Junie B, Dakota, Dixie Chick, Shirley T and Blacknosed Kate get acquainted with the fence. They only bump into it once and then they remember. Michael, who climbed over my dad’s electric fence wearing shorts, had one brush with the power of electricity and created a lasting memory. The donkeys kept getting out and we couldn’t figure out how. Then we saw them walk up to the electrified rope, kneel and limbo walk under it to avoid the shock. Hillarious!
Moving the fence is easy compared to building a new fence but it is no picnic in the summer heat. Posts resist going into the hard baked earth. Ground bees are everywhere and happy to sting the unwary. Finding the proper length for the rope that will keep the donkeys in as well as the horses is not easy. Rolling up six hundred feet of rope and moving fifty plastic posts requires some sweat and organized thinking. I don’t mind the sweat but organized thinking is not my long suit.
We can’t afford to be picky about the place we choose for grazing. Horses have an amazing ability to find sweet grass among weeds and briars. We turned them out on a patch of pasture we have used for hay. It is overgrown with multiflora rose and weeds of every description because of the drought I watch them root down to the grass that grows under the inedible canopy and marvel at their patient thoroughness as they graze unfazed by the briars and weeds.
When I go down to open the gate to let them out to the fresh grazing ground, I only have to call once. They come up over the hill running with manes and tails streaming in the wind. They slow down to give me a nuzzle as they pass through the gate and then run again, kicking up their heels at the freedom of new places to explore. At dusk, I call and they come running once again, home for feed and hay. I have been learning some important lessons working with this fence.
Like the horses, I need some fresh grazing ground. If I remain in the same place forever, all I will have to show for my trouble will be a mouthful of dirt. So the challenge is to find fresh grass that feeds my soul. Art of any kind feeds my soul. I can spend time with my calligraphy or make paper, teach an art class or go to a museum and I feel the whisper of angel wings. Creation of beauty, appreciation of beauty created by others, the sights and sounds of music, drama and visual art never fail to stir my soul.
Another source of fresh grass is worship. Familiar rituals and language provide comfort and reassurance when life is overgrown with painful briars and inedible weeds. Language and hymns have been a part of my life since my earliest memory, memorized holy words that float on the surface of my heart and mind. The Lord’s Prayer and the Church Covenant, the Twenty Third Psalm and John 3:16, Shall We Gather at the River and Amazing Grace, the Doxology and the Hallelujah Chorus... Calls to worship, public prayers, offerings, sermons, altar calls, confession and forgiveness of sins, all are part of age old worship rituals in the south where I grew up.
Worship with others who approach the Almighty in different ways expands my fenced in pasture. Worship with the Greek Orthodox community, the Catholic mass, the Pentecostal in your face experience of the Spirit, the African American free flowing extemporaneous worship, the dignified Episcopal ritual, Jewish worship with its distinctive Torah centered liturgy, the Presbyterian and Methodist and Church of God and the Signs Hereafter... all have stretched my narrow grazing fields as I run through the fields towards God.
Moving to new ground is never easy. Placing new boundary lines is hard work. Creating a safe place for soul food requires some sweat equity and organizational skills. Keeping a balance between the past, present and future calls me to pay attention to all that can feed my soul within those time constraints. Running home to the barn balanced by lush new fields yet unexplored. Both are necessary and one without the other can starve a soul. And when I can, doing the limbo walk to escape the confining expectations of others to run around a little, kicking up my heels in joyful gratitude for all that is yet to be. Thank God for moveable fences, for barn homes that shelter and for freedom to choose my own path. Briars today, bluegrass tomorrow.