The Week and the Weak

I received a book last weekend from my very dear friend Penny, one of inspiration, one from a horses point of view, and I thought, last weekend, I would draw from this book and write here, that didn't happen this past week. The week was, well lets just say slow to start, with a breakdown and then long to the middle where the day didn't end, and then finally an end to an end. The week that just kept going. Those weeks are usually ones that lead up to an event that I have looked forward to for some time but not this past week. All this past week held for me was moment after moment of weakness, not a week I was looking forward to in the least.

So at some point I picked up the book I received and began reading. The beginning, introduction, read like a dance between a person and horse, the interchange or possibilities, the promise of kindness, and the acceptance of a herd. Odd, I know, especially to those of you who are not horse people. As I read the first story Emily's Song,  I was touched by the thought of a little girl who was abused her entire life and then, without warning or understanding, found herself at a petting farm, in the stall of an abused pony who was not so much nice anymore, lying at his feet, singing to him. Ponies, for those of you who do not know, can be some of the meanest little horses around. Mostly by nature and mostly because people find them easy to abuse, mostly because of their size. Most of the ponies I read about always lead me back to Merri-Legs (from Black Beauty), a story of abuse and dislike for ponies because of their size and ultimate temperament, as with the pony in this story. Only this pony, at one point in his life, was loved by a child - and the singing of and abused little girl brought him back to that memory of love, and he stood, tentatively over her, watching and listening to her sing as she lay at his feet. The story does not talk of future encounters between the two, only that Emily asked her foster parents to go back to the farm, it does not talk of the old pony, who stood quietly as a child lay at his feet, it leaves you to imagine what happened.  And so I did. There is a story of a man who gave all his loyalty and heart to a king, a king that was jealous of him and so he decided to have him killed. The man ran and took refuge in the lands of his enemies, in caves alone, and he was allowed many times to kill the king and did not for he loved him at one time. Many times through this story, the man named David, cried out to God to make his broken heart heal, to give him peace in his time of grieving, to change the king's heart. That never happens, not really. But in all his cries, he writes this Psalms 147:3 "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." I don't believe that we are ever really healed, not the way that we think or understand. David's healing came in a different way, altho he never really lost his love for Saul his king, not deep down in his soul.  The same is true for the pony in my book, he loved his child, the one he grew up with, the one that loved and cared for him. The one that no matter what would talk to him on sunny days and brush his mane until it was silky. But the child, like most, grew up and went away and all that was left was an adult who didn't love the pony. A human who didn't care for him, a human who broke the pony's heart and the pony in turn became mean. In his mind, there would be no human who could show him love, none that would be nice and not try to hurt him. His heart was broken to humans and there was no healing it, and that's what his owners/rescuers believed. Who knew that a little girl, who didn't speak, who be the one who offered healing to the pony's heart. I imagine that the girl went back as often as she could to sing to the pony, and in those time of lying on the stall floor under his feet, his broken heart was healed. And for Emily, those times of lying on the ground singing to a pony who could with no thought hurt her with his hooves, she found a friend who would listen and her broken heart and life was healed.

I have no doubt that the wounds that these two characters in my story were bound but there were scares left, ones that remained throughout their life, ones that each saw in the other. Horses for me have held the same kind of healing, a healing that forces me to aware and vulnerable at the same time.  "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. " He has done that for me in a mare that yesterday showed me that I was, without a doubt, hers. He is healing me in ways that I never would have thought, through a horse.

There are ways in this life that healing happens the without us even knowing it happens. One day our heart is so broken that we can't move, can't see the next moment, and we are weak beyond thought. I had five of those days this past week, moments of weakness so great that I didn't think I'd get through them. And every day, I'd go out and feed the horses, and everyday, they, all three of them, would knicker to me. And I know for food that was their calling, but yesterday, I had each call without food being offered, each came to me without being given anything, and each showed me that I am part of their herd. A healing I didn't see or expect.

Something Missed

Don't you hate it when you're watching a good movie or TV show and you glance away for a millisecond and something happens on the show that is not words but something you have to see to understand. And for 10 minutes you're asking "what'd I miss?" And no matter how many of your friends and family tell you what happened its never the same as seeing it for the first time. It sometimes comes close but never is it exactly right. I missed something this weekend, something that was needed, for lack of a better term something almost required. Why did I miss this something? Mostly because I'm stubborn and bullheaded and tried to work through an injury without going to the doctor. Not unlike many of you, I'm guessing, I have had injuries due to my life-long handling and dealing with horses but in most cases the injury heals itself and within a couple weeks I'm as good as new. On rare occasions, and I mean very rare, I get hurt and its elongated and doesn't heal with constant movement and working through it, this was and still is one of those times.

So, what did I miss? A hike and camping weekend at Grandfather Mountain. Seems menial when you read it doesn't it? And if I gave you facts like, the hike to the first campsite (on either side of Grandfather Mtn) is 2 miles with packs, you'd probably think "we'll that's nothing to miss". But what if the hike is not what I missed? I mean that's what I typed, that's what was going on, a 2 miles (that turned into a 3 mile) hike to a campsite, a windy hike to the peak of Grandfather and a long packing hike down, all in 2 days. Sounds exactly like what I missed....or was it? Maybe some background is needed. There was a group of friends who started a Venture Crew in Raeford, they were led by a married couple who was strong and directed to help these friends begin an adventure. One of the requirements for Venture Crewing, is the kids have to come up with, plan and make happen an adventure. Around 2 years or so ago, the crew started doing these adventures, I was blessed to take part in 2 of them. The one that I missed was their trip to Grandfather Mtn.  This crew of friends, as you may gather, included Kaleb and Thad. Last fall, as a memory trip, the group of us, family and friends, took the trip to Grandfather Mtn, only on the Daniel Boone side of Grandfather (the opposite side the crew camped on). This year, the plan was to take the trip on Profile the same trip that the crew took 2 years ago. I didn't go due to the injury, and last night for the first time really in 3 days, I got to talk to Penny. She expressed deeply she wished I was able to have gone, she likened the trip to none-less then a break through, and this is how she explained it.  "The trip was difficult, its very strenuous and the climb up was rocky and hard to maneuver. But the  trip down, was painful. Its extremely steep and the trek was focused only on getting from point A to point B while carrying a heavy weight. It was a break through for me because it was like what we have been going through the past year." She said I could be wordy and use this, and I hadn't planned on using it until this morning when I realize I had missed something. She likened the trip to our journey through the pain of loosing our sons, the strenuous trip of struggle going thru the Saturday we spent together at Cape Fear was pain that we didn't even know was going to become more painful than we had even begun to imagine. The days, months and years that have followed have been that treacherous downhill trip full of unforgiving pain, carrying a heavy weight, and the parking lot is far from in sight, even now.

When I realized this morning what I had missed, crying ensued (mostly because of what I missed and partially because of the steroids I'm on) and I turned to a most unlikely place for me, a devotional. Its funny to me how when I most need to hear something I most don't want it said. The devotional was short and talked of a journey today that was an obstacle in my way that I would be looking for a way around; at the end of the devotional was a scripture (as with every day), so I turned to that reading and found something else. Isaiah 35:8-10 "And a highway will be there, it will be called the Way of Holiness...no lion will be there, nor any ferocious beast will get on it, they will not be there. But only the redeemed will walk there and the ransomed of the Lord will return. They will enter Zion singing, everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away."  How I can not wait for that time of gladness and joy to return and to be overtaken by them. How I long for the sorry and sighing of this life to flee away. How long will that time be before it comes to pass?

There is nothing unusual or different about Isaiah from that trip that Penny and the family took this weekend, only the words would read like this: There is a mountainous trail, one that those who endure pain and suffering travel. And their footsteps are not clear and easy, the steps are difficult and some hidden. They dodge the ever so ferocious beasts that travels their trail and hides obstacles in their way. Tho the trail is difficult and painful, their feet are steady, their laughter returns and fills the air, their joy of memories and longing for peace fill the spaces as they trek to the next ridge. On the trail they have found that their feet are not their own, that the Lord has made their feet unwavering, that He has gone before them to move the beast from their path and He will lead them home. When I listened to Penny talk me through the experience I was glad to hear her words. Even though I missed the same things that Kaleb had experienced that weekend 2 yrs ago, and even more so, the break through of feeling as tho, eventually, the downhill trek will become easier and there is, just around the switchback, a plateau of leveling along the ridge. There have been those ridge walks, some longer than others and some to short to even realize that there was a ridge, but they have been there. But I missed the likening, the time to walk where the boys had walked, the knowing that eventually there is an end and a parking lot where I will get to go home.