It was more than 30 years ago, but I still remember it vividly.  With the stroke of a neuron, I’m transported back to my youth group, and my seat on a log in front of the firepit, grousing to a friend about how the chaperone’s children are hogging the horses (all three of them).   It was a teen outing, after all, so protocol suggests it should be the teens enjoying what the event had to offer.  The offerings, by the way, were noticeably tired and the sun was beginning to set.  The one turn I’d had was all I’d get, and I do love to ride horses, given my few opportunities to do so.

Suddenly, mid-grumble, as though choreographed by a Hallmark Movie director, a horse slowly walked up on my right, led by one of the farm hands and ridden by our pastor’s son.  His father helped him dismount, and without a hint of prompting, ‘Doug’ walked immediately to a spot in front of the horse, within my earshot and sightline.  He reached up, took the horse’s muzzle in his hands, pulled his head down, kissed him on the nose, and said “Thanks for letting me ride you.” 

!WHAP! In a mere instant, my ingratitude was on display, in high-definition.  In that moment, God didn’t bother to agree or disagree with my perception of fair, He simply pointed out a higher priority: in everything, give thanks.

Someday in Heaven, when this scene is replayed for His glory, Jesus and I will share a wink.  You see, on the day I met the lady who graciously welcomed me to her home, she told me about the 25 horses in the pasture behind the house….and I have an open invitation to ride. Just one of the personalized perks of His provision.