On being a Christian woman

I feel like a horse that has never fit into her stable stall. It's painted pink and has flowers and all the other mares love their matching ones, but all I can feel about it is the splinters that rub into my hindquarters as I try to get comfortable in something so narrow. It's great if the other mares like theirs. But I don't fit and they don't understand why I'm not comfortable, and so they ask if I want to join them to paint our stalls more pink. No! I don't! I want out of this ruddy stall! Why are the mares' stalls so narrow?

I've heard a few other mares over the years talking about kicking their stall doors down, but I've always thought that was kind of dangerous and next thing you know, they may run completely off the farm. But lately I've noticed that that doesn't always happen. Usually they just end up enjoying the pasture with other mares and stallions that have kicked their doors down. Also I've realized that the Farmer would never make stalls for us that we don't fit in. And you know what? I really don't think He'd paint them pink. The flowers in the field are so beautiful, why would He bother making the stalls pink? Sure, some flowers have been brought into the stalls, but plucked flowers wither. There is far more beauty outside of the stalls.

 

And so I've started kicking a little. This damn stall door's gots to go.