I believe it was Winston Churchill who said, “There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man”. I love this quote because it rings so true. I know that horses are not just good for our inner world because of their physical beauty. Their gentle spirits and kind friendship have borne up many souls who could not have otherwise moved forward.
I am one of those people.
Horses are a part of my story in such a deep and beautiful way. They are woven brilliantly into my being and I believe they helped to save my life. I wish every little girl could have a horse. I hear it often — how horses are a part of a young girl’s story and how they provided the sanity she needed to just move into another day. I didn’t know horses were carrying me across the broken bridges of my little girl world until I was much older. I just knew I had to be near one as often as possible. Just the smell of them filled me with longing and tethered me to a sense of safety. I treasured the warm sensation of their breath on my hands and the soft sweetness of their noses. They were a paradox to me – gentle yet so powerful. They provided me with comfort and yet I revered their glory, my heart pounding in my chest in their presence.
Horses have a God-like quality in this way. He is sometimes frighteningly beautiful in all of his splendor and yet he is loving and good. We can trust the majesty that is much more powerful than us because it is bent in our direction. This is love defined.
Horses were at the preschool I attended at 4. I sometimes got to stay after and ride them when the other children went home. On these special days I would try as long as possible not to wash my hands when I got home. I wanted to remember the smell of the horses. I would keep my hands cupped around my nose savoring their scent until my mother made me wash them clean before dinner.
When I was 7 my parents suddenly separated and then eventually divorced. I say suddenly but that is from the perspective of a 7 year old. In one day my whole life changed – our bags were packed and we left our Kansas home.
Just like that.
I don’t blame my parents for this now. I cannot begin to know all that was in their world. I do know it was awful for all of us. I often liken divorce to a bomb detonating in a house. No one escapes the shrapnel and it is difficult to find your bearings after the smoke clears. Each of us did our best to survive. None of us really seemed to know who were we were anymore or what our role was. I was the youngest of 4. We moved to a new state, went a new school and my family was no longer a family. I felt lost. Eventually, my mom enrolled me in a riding program. She must have known how desperately I needed it. It was the highlight of my week. I loved it so. Threads of continuity began to weave in and out of my broken little self. Continuity that smelled like horses, and riding until the sun went down. I began to breathe again.
Then, one magical day when I was 10, my mom and I went to look at little white horse named Buttermilk. He was half Arabian and half Welsh pony. I had memorized each breed and their characteristics from my horse book at home. Honestly, I didn’t care. He was perfect. He was mine. I road him all the way from the woman’s house to the barn where I would keep him. He was my world.
There is no sense of time in a barn. If you love horses you know that. I am convinced clocks do not tick there. In the age before cell phones my mom had to come looking for me. She would often be waiting for me when I was on my way back from a ride. She had been driving around looking for me. “Where have you been? It’s late and the sun has gone down!” she would say, genuinely worried. I would always apologize, “I was with Buttermilk. I’m sorry! What time is it?” I really didn’t know. I would often ride him down to the beach that was close by and swim with him in the bay. On the way back, I would canter him until I couldn’t breath from the joy.
Over the years, many horses have come and gone from my life. Their friendship has remained a constant in a world that never stops changing. I have had the beautiful privilege of sharing horses with my children and husband. None of them have had the horse bug like I did but they all love them and feel confident riding which is such a gift. Three summers ago I lost my Sammy, who was the most trustworthy horse I have ever known. Even at 28, he would throw his head and tail high under saddle. How he loved to ride. I dreaded the day that I would have to let him go. That day came on an appropriately rainy day in June last year. I knew he was very ill when I called the vet and braced myself for the worst. After a brief examination the vet determined that Sammy had a tumor on his pancreas and was in a great deal of pain. The doctor looked me in the eyes and recommended that I do the kind thing and let him go. I was alone but agreed he was right. The rain beat hard on the tin roof of my little red barn as I offered up prayers of gratitude for my Sammy. I pictured him running to greet RM, the fatherly figure in my life who gave him to me, and them cantering off on the beaches of heaven. No more pain. Only joy.
When Sammy passed away, I mustered the courage to pray for another pony to adventure with. I needed a special horse who would show me the same kind of friendship and faithfulness that Sammy had given me. That’s when God brought Astro into my life, a lovely Paso Fino horse who is small but strong. He is my gift from God. I call him Astro the wonder horse. And you know what? He looks so much like my first little horse, Buttermilk. I am looking forward to building a new friendship with him.
He is a gift in every sense of the word, and has already begun to be such a blessing in our lives.
To all the horses in my life, thank you. You have borne me up not only on your broad and strong backs, but in friendship and love. I pray God gives me many more years to listen to your soft clip-clopping on pavement, happy nickering when you see me bringing out the hay and the sound of thunder when you run happy in the pasture. You have brought me much joy.
James 1:17~ “Every good and perfect gift is from above coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”