Today's view is a guest post courtesy of Sis #3, whose recent activities noted at www.journeyswithGod.com underscore that she definitely has not had time to sit on a fence of indecision, or even the more pleasant kind with a view.Thanks, sis, for sharing a fond family legend (which may exist with different details in the minds of other siblings!)
barbed wire fence with
aging fence posts caught my eye and stirred me to pondering.
Fence sitting has long been eschewed as
the trade of procrastinators and slackers. But maybe those who have
never sat upon a fence,
contemplating their options, enjoying the activity around
them, have only ever had a prickly uncomfortable fence at their disposal.
Think about it.
TBLSE (The Best Little Sister Ever) reminded me of a fence-sitting incident
from childhood which was all fine and dandy ... until I attempted to dismount
the fence I had chosen to perch upon.
Our weekend-farmer father was doctoring some yearling cattle, dispensing medicine and ear tags, and cutting horns. Perched atop the
rail fence, his curiously observant offspring had been strongly cautioned
to remain quiet and still so as not to startle the already freaked-out steers,
who could bolt and cause bodily harm to our Dad.
My 9ish-year-old-self decided to quietly climb down off the rail fence, not noticing the
coil of barbed wire on the fence post, the end of which somehow caught under my jacket and deeply
scratched my tummy.
The scar remains to this day - but I am proud to say not a peep escaped - I remained quietly weeping
crocodile tears until the work was finished and Dad could safely doctor my