My friend’s status as she walks through a terminal cancer diagnosis for her ten-year-old daughter that according to and after the best the medical profession can offer leave her with weeks, days to live…
I am struck by the eloquence of the horses.
Horse kissers, rubbers, slobberers.
“Best horses ever”– and better than most people.
Job’s friends came and sat with him overwhelmed for seven days. Good horses. But when Job sang his bitter song of grief, instead of joining in the chorus, they had to offer their own tunes of rebuttal.
Instead of being horse they became hoarse.
Peterson is right: “Sufferers attract fixers the way roadkills attract buzzards.”
We say too much, we do, when we should be rubbing noses, warming necks, and slobbering.
Even in the misery of Lazarus, it was the “dogs that came and licked his sores.”
Oh yes, we can learn from horses.