We’ve all had moments in life where we try our absolute hardest to follow the rules, only for the universe to throw a curveball—or in my case, a rusty old car with its butt on fire.

For the local parade, there was one very important rule my dad gave me for driving our little Shetland pony: Stay right behind the car ahead of you.

Now, Butterball himself was quite the sight. He was a black-and-white paint, and let’s just say he was a well-fed little guy with a round belly that looked like it was almost touching the ground. My dad would hook him up to our trusty two-seater cart, and my cousin would hop in to ride along with me for the big event.

Before we started moving, my dad emphasized how crucial it was to keep our spot in the line. The car we were assigned to follow was an older model with a pretty rough, faded paint job. Since it didn't look like much to a kid's eyes, I knew I had to find a unique landmark to track it. Luckily, I spotted a spot on the rear of the car that looked remarkably like a bird in flight. That’s my marker, I thought. Keep your eyes on the bird.

For a good stretch, the parade moved forward just as nice as you please. We had a basket of candy to toss out, everybody on the sidewalks was waving and smiling, and we even picked up a loyal fan club. A bunch of kids fell in love with Butterball right away, and they stayed with us for most of the ride—some pedaling along on bicycles, others just running right alongside our cart, cheering us on.

By this point, the initial nerves had melted away. I was sitting back, holding the reins, and just genuinely enjoying the rhythm of the ride and the clip-clop of little hooves.

And then... chaos struck.

All of a sudden, without any warning, that rusty old car I was supposed to follow took off like its butt was on fire!

Panic set in instantly. My dad had told me to stay right behind it, and I was terrified of getting into trouble. Poor Butterball didn't know what hit him either; his short little legs were going just as fast as they possibly could, trying desperately to keep pace with a vehicle that had suddenly decided it was participating in a race instead of a small-town parade.

By this point, the magic of the ride had vanished under a wave of pure stress, and I was crying behind the reins, just knowing my dad was going to be furious with me for losing my spot.

All the while, I could hear my dad chasing right behind us in his pickup truck, laying on the horn. Of course, I didn't know that honking meant stop! I just thought he was yelling at us to catch up!

Finally, he managed to pull up and get us safely flagged down. After all those tears and all that frantic driving, it turned out dad wasn't mad at all. But looking at the huffing and puffing little guy between the shafts, let's just say Butterball wasn't too happy about his unexpected cardio session!

 

 Romans 8:1

so now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.

 

And His heart is always to rescue us from panic, not punish us for losing our footing.