My Red Barn
With the impending snow and ice we spent the better part of the day getting our barn ready for the horses to come in tonight. Since shoveling horse manure is not very photogenic, I thought this lovely photo of the cedar tree with icy drops in it might suffice.
There is something magical about barns for me. No, I wasn’t born in a barn, but I think I could live in one sometimes. I love the smell of fresh hay and shavings in the stalls. I love the sound of the chickens sweetly cooing to one another at the end of the hall, and the dirt floor that makes me feel connected to how God made me. Remember, I am pigpen?
I am convinced the time does not exist in a barn. There may be important things that need doing elsewhere, but right now in my barn? I just want to breathe and talk to my horses. Time does not matter there.
When I was a young girl I had a horse named Buttermilk. My mom may as well have given me the moon when she handed me the reigns to that little welsh/arabian horse. All I wanted in the whole world was a horse. After that, I spent every afternoon at the barn cleaning stalls, brushing and bathing him or riding him to the river for a swim. He was my world. Growing up in my family was hard. My parents divorced when I was only 7 and while both my parents loved me, divorce is just plain hard. I spent my time in two very different worlds, neither of which felt whole. My life felt fragmented and frightening. Time in the barn made me feel safe. I told Buttermilk all about my heartache while I stroked his hair or rode him bareback in the sunshine. I knew my secrets were safe with him. He was my best friend.
When Chris and I fell in love he knew that owning a horse again was a large dream in my heart. Not long after we were married, he found a way for me to have one. And then eventually we were able to purchase a little farm where I could have my very own barn. It is just a little barn, but it is mine. When we moved in our friends came over to help us to paint it red. It means so much more to me because of that.
God has healed my life through my time spent in barns. He even saw fit to let his own son be born in one. That’s good enough for me.
The barn is a holy place.
Psalm 37:3,4 ~”Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”
Snuggled In
Sweet Boy