So much for my comforting arrow count assumption. No way did he have only one arrow left or he'd be saving his ammo instead of taking pot shots at me ...n the scamper. As if to confirm that conclusion his twelfth came through this butt like an artillery shell.Okay, number of arrows left was not a given. For sure on my next dash he'd think to lead his target -- me -- but unlike a duck in a shooting gallery at least now I was close enough to fire back. If I was super-lucky I'd put out his eye. At. I wanted Him to tell me what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. More than anything, I wanted to serve Him. And I loved every moment of it. I would think to myself, “This is not who I am. This is not how I was raised.” Catholic school, straight A’s, rule-follower...on paper, it didn’t seem right. But none of that mattered. This “new me” made me feel comfortable in my own skin for once. I had always felt like I was missing something in my life and I was now learning what that was. He owned. More

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