The Horseless Horseman

Often, life doesn’t go as planned. Unforeseen twists and turns, hills and valleys alter a person’s plans, dreams, goals and decisions. The photo above was taken ten years ago and is of my best friend’s youngest son and my beautiful Shaggy when he was her horse. When we moved to Kentucky, I envisioned Shaggy growing old in the Bluegrass State, toting our own children as he did hers. But our vision quickly changed after moving and, knowing our new plan to adopt and raise children would be expensive and time-consuming, we made the difficult decision to sell the best horses we’ve ever had in our lives.

For awhile there, I wasn’t so sure that even this plan would be seen through to the end. My hubby’s horse sold quickly, but I languished in agonizing limbo as Shaggy remained on the market unsold. Well, no more.

I am officially horseless.

For the first time in 22 years I am horseless.

Does this make me sad? No. I’m actually relieved beyond belief. I’m ready for the next step in our life, I’m thankful for the small ($2,700) boost to our adoption budget, and I know that when the time for horse ownership comes again, it will be even better than before because God honors the sacrifices of a broken heart. And, in the meantime, thanks to New Beginnings Therapeutic Riding, we get the joys of riding and being around horses without the headaches of ownership. Sounds like a win-win to me!!

Fox Hunting, Our Adoption Journey

Recalibrating

After a stressful week of mocking up a profile book on Snapfish in my evenings after work, I received word that we would need to provide a PDF file of the book or else miss out on opportunities. So, I hunkered down and devoted the last two days, very nearly solely, to creating a book from scratch in Photoshop. It’s now at about 92% completion and the remainder will need to be worked on when Jeff and I can sit down together to tweak it.

So, with that out of the way, yesterday evening I decided to take a close look at the next wave of paperwork awaiting us. As I stand at the foot of this mountain, I realize that the mountains behind us were only foothills. At one point I was almost in tears at the shear enormity of it. At another point, I wanted to pull my hair out. And, at yet another point, I sent Jeff a text saying I was going to shave my head. I’d hop up, walk around (with the dogs shadowing my every move) and just pray out loud for help. Then, I cleared my mind.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Visualize myself hunting on Shaggy. Feel him swallowing the distance up, his muscles bunching and stretching beneath me. Feel the reins in my hands, my own muscles stretching with his.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

See the coop ahead. We race to it and soar over. We land in mud and it flies up, hitting my jacket, my face. I hear the hounds, the horn. I cluck to Shaggy for more speed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

See the gulch ahead. Gathering reins. Plunging down. Leaping across. Scurrying up the bank. Hurry on.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

More speed. See the coop ahead. Sit up. Leg on strong. Look up. Fly over. Galloping ahead, straining for more speed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

On and on we go, till my heart is light, my mind is eased and my breathing calm.

Recalibration complete.

Now, where’s that coop? I mean paperwork?

The barn I volunteer at has a manure spreader. A very FULL manure spreader. And today, I carefully added 5 or 6 more loads into it. Very carefully. Not so carefully, though, that I didn’t get horse poo all over myself. All over my pants, my shirt, in my pockets, my boots, no telling where else.

Anyhow, the plan was, after a few hours at the barn, come home, shower, clean up the kitchen and get started on an early supper. But with the first real warm spell we’ve had in…. Oh, I don’t know when… I mean, warm enough I worked up a sweat with a short ride… All I really want to do is soak up the sunshine. The dogs agree – the dishes can wait.

All Things Horses