An Autumn day, crisp blue sky, painted leaves adorning the trees. I ride the mare confidently now. We’ve gotten to know each other. Her ears turn with a longing to obey my commands. I’ve learned her nuances. The easy grace of her stride when relaxed. The way she tenses up nervous. A rustle through grass sharpens her. The dog darting from behind produces caution in her step.

Overhead a red-tailed hawk swirls on this slow-moving Sunday afternoon. I am eager to see my brother on the farm across the way and push the mare faster to get to him. All is well until the mare’s ears prick. In the saddle I sense the change in her. Reaching down, I stroke her neck. “Steady, girl. What is it?”

For the life of me, I don’t see the threat.

Above the sky is unbroken. Our yellow lab continues her sweeping passes in search of rabbits. A crow squawks in the distance. And then it happens. A hush settles over the field. Even the birds fall silent. The mare’s nostrils flare. Her body tenses in earnest.

Still, I don’t see it. Where is the danger the animals perceive?

My ears pick it up first. The rush of breeze. The swirl of leaves. I turn in search of this strengthening sound. Tighten the reins. “Steady, girl,” I say again. “It’s only the wind.” On a windless day…

The mare would bolt if I let her. I make her stand still and both of us brace ourselves for the impact.
It hits in a vortex of dust and debris. Eyes shut tight, skin stinging from the fallout. The dust devil lingers, punishing us for taking a stand.

The devil has asked to sift you… pops out in my Bible months earlier when I earnestly seek direction for all the things going wrong; Murphy’s law maddening the days. Like this moment with the mare, I go still. Pray for the strength to pass this testing of my faith.

Later on the Autumn day, a dust devil hits our son as he exits a friend’s car in the driveway of my parents’ home. Fourteen-years-old and fast on his feet, the boy dives back in the sedan as dust envelops him. What are the odds of this? I don’t believe in coincidences. This is a serial attack on our family. Dust devils and sifting continues.

Nightmares stalk my sleep. Scott has them too, demonic dreams. We both cry out for Christ. Asleep and awake, we call to our Savior. On my horse or in our house, even in my dreams, I take my stand in prayer. In peace.

Peace like a river running red with the blood of Christ.

Satan must pay his respects to the throne room of God to get to us. Jesus at the right hand of the Father, eyes burning with love. We are His redeemed.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you,” instructs the Bible in 1 Peter 5:7. “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power forever and ever, Amen” 1 Peter 5:8-11.