Great Horse Stories (11 page)

They hopped out of the truck and walked to the corral.

Cindy muttered, “Wow, this is worse than it looked from the truck.”

The corral resembled a pig wallow. Black goo had swallowed Oakley's legs all the way to her knees. Cindy knew the mare's feet would rot if she didn't get on drier ground—and soon. The mare's pleading eyes followed them, almost as if she were saying, “I can't stand this! Get me out of here!” Amy knew that with the contours of the land in this area there wouldn't be a single dry spot. She gently stroked her mare's forehead and looked at her mom. In unison they said, “We have to get her out of here today.” They made plans. Each went to their own home to begin the search for a new horse-boarding place.

A couple of years before, Cindy was delighted when Amy got the bay mare. It was her grown daughter's first horse. They both treasured
their mother–daughter time when Amy would train Oakley and Cindy would hang out at the barn. All through Cindy's childhood, she'd only asked for two things—cowboy boots and a horse. Each Christmas she was disappointed. Her father had grown up on a cattle ranch in Ronan, Montana. He knew how much work animals were—and how expensive. When he left the ranch to work on the railroad, he didn't want to deal with livestock again. He put his nose to the grindstone and eked out a living for his wife and children.

Fortunately for Cindy, her grandparents still owned the ranch when she was a child. She spent summers there with her cousins. They rode horses and raced over the rolling hills and grassy fields. But there was one thing Cindy was missing—her very own buckskin horse.

After graduating, Cindy married her high school sweetheart. By the time she was 20, the cries of newborn twins echoed through the house. With barely two nickels to rub together for groceries, there definitely wasn't money for a horse. That dream faded into the sunset.

When Amy got her horse, Cindy's heart skipped a beat. She thought, “I can love on Oakley too.” But now Oakley needed a new place to stay. Cindy prayed for guidance as she thumbed through the Yellow Pages. An ad for a ranch that offered horse boarding caught her eye. It sounded perfect. After calling and questioning the owners, she felt peace in her heart about the place. Then she called back and asked, “Would it be possible to move the horse in tonight?”

“Sure.”

Cindy called Amy, and within the hour, Amy had driven over to Cindy's, and the two of them drove down a winding road to check out the new place. The truck tires crunched on gravel as they passed a little farmhouse and reached the barn. Large paddocks with lean-to shelters lay in spokes off the circular drive around an arena. Perfect! They moved Oakley that night.

The following day, Amy busied herself grooming Oakley while Cindy leaned against the pipe corral. She glanced around at the horses in their paddocks nibbling on new shoots of green grass. Suddenly she noticed a colt. He stood about 10 feet away all by himself in an enormous paddock. He was watching her.

Cindy's heart fluttered.
A baby! And he's a buckskin paint. Wow. He's a buffy cream with white patches. Look at that chocolate-colored mane and tail!
Cindy's eyes were glued on that colt as she strolled over. He arched his neck and pricked his ears forward. Cindy stood by the rail. The colt walked closer and stretched his nose toward her. She leaned forward. His warm breath caressed her face. Gently she blew air in his nose. “Hello, baby.”

He cocked his head side to side and sniffed her.

An hour later, when Amy was ready to head home, Cindy was scratching the baby's belly.

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Cindy's Dream Horse
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By the end of the week, the baby recognized their truck. He'd race forward, bucking and kicking up and down the hill in his paddock, and then he'd wait at the gate. Amy would walk over to Oakley, and Cindy would dig an apple treat out of her jeans jacket for the baby. After gobbling treats, the colt would rest his head on Cindy's shoulder while she wrapped her arms around his neck. Burying her nose in his fur, she'd inhale his smell. It was almost like she was a kid again except living her dream this time. She cherished the special moments basking in the colt's unconditional love. Hour after hour, day after day, the summer passed.

Then one warm-but-overcast August day when Amy was done, she walked over to the baby's paddock. Cindy leaned against the pipe fence scratching the baby's belly. Amy asked, “Guess what?” She went on to share that the owner of the ranch had asked her if she knew of anyone who wanted the seven-month-old colt. The baby's owner would sell him for a dollar.

Cindy's heart pounded.
Oh, my! Can I really get this horse? I would love that. But what will Kim say?
She looked at Amy. “I'd better call your dad.”

Cindy sat in the truck and dialed. “You know this baby colt down here?” She paused and swallowed.

Kim had come to the ranch to watch Amy ride. He'd fallen in love with the colt too. He'd petted him, talked to him, and fed him apple treats.

Cindy tried to contain her excitement. “Kim, the owner wants to give him away! Well, she'll sell him for a dollar. He needs a home. I think he's supposed to be my horse. Is that okay?”

Cindy hung up and turned to Amy. “He said go for it!” Cindy's heart soared as she went up to the ranch house, paid the dollar, and was handed the bill of sale. She could hardly believe it.
Here I am, 50 years old, and God gave me my dream! I have my horse!

I remember when Cindy bought the colt for a dollar. She called me and nearly cried as she shared this miracle from God. I whooped and hollered, and then we laughed and talked about a great verse in the book of Psalms: “Take delight in the L
ORD
, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (37:4). I wasn't shocked by this new addition to Cindy's family. She and her husband, Kim, had invested hundreds of hours teaching people—including me!—through Bible studies in their home. Cindy had invested her life in her family and into doing what God wanted her to do. This was the first time in her life when she could afford a horse and have time to enjoy one. God's timing was perfect!

Our voices grew louder and louder as we put the pieces together that revealed God's fingerprints. He had to make sure it rained enough that Oakley was up to her knees in mud in the corral so they'd move her. If Amy wouldn't have moved her horse, Cindy never would have met the colt. We chuckled as we imagined God sitting in heaven dictating the order: “More rain over here. Make sure it drains into this paddock.” Then Cindy and Amy had to choose the right stable for Oakley. Could the angels have shone a glory beam of light on the ad in the Yellow Pages? And what owner wouldn't want such a beautiful, healthy colt? God had made the baby Cindy's dream colors too.

Although Cindy never expected to achieve that dream, God hadn't forgotten. He'd chosen the perfect fulfillment and had given it to her even though she was 50 years old. When we're doing what God wants us to do, God will bless us in unexpected ways. Let's keep looking for the fingerprints of God. We're never too old to live our dreams!

Lord, stir my heart. Help me remember the dreams of my youth and watch for Your blessings. Amen.

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Thoughts to Ponder
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Do you have any dreams you need to blow the dust off of because they've been buried in your heart so long? Perhaps now is a good time to sit on the porch with God and have a chat.

18

A BLESSING THAT SNOWBALLED

Sharing a Blessing

V
oices in the call center echoed through the room, which was as large as a gymnasium. Employees of the local phone company sat in the cubicles recruiting new business and handling customer service issues. Cindy ended a call and grinned. All she could think about was the young horse God had supernaturally given her. She'd wanted cowboy boots and a horse for as long as she could remember. She'd grown up, married, and had children…but still no horse. When Cindy turned 50, the dream of owning her own horse was covered with cobwebs.

God unexpectedly blew off the dust and blessed her with a buckskin paint—the horse of her dreams—for only one dollar! Cindy still couldn't believe it. Now there was only one problem. She didn't have a clue what to name him. She leaned back in her chair and savored names in her mind. One of her coworkers leaned over from her cubicle and the two briefly chatted. The coworker mentioned how she'd heard about a 10-year-old girl who dreamed about going on a school trip to Washington, DC, but it would cost each child $300. To the little girl's family it might as well be a million dollars.

The girl's dream haunted Cindy. Between phone calls over the next couple of hours, her thoughts wandered.
What am I going to name my colt?…I'm so blessed that I got my dream horse. How can I help that little girl get her dream?
When the questions merged, she knew it was inspired by God.

Instant Messaging her coworkers, she shared the two situations and
then explained her plan. “I'm going to hold a contest. We're going to name my horse and help a girl go on a field trip with her class. So message me your suggestions for a name along with any amount of money you're willing to donate to help the little girl. I'll draw the winning horse name out of a hat.”

The contest was a big hit! Workers messaged names and donation amounts. Cindy's daughter mentioned the contest to the three-year-old girl she took care of. Excited about entering the horsey contest and helping the schoolgirl, the little girl told her mother about it. The mother agreed to chip in some money, and the girl chose the name “Tuk,” pronounced “two” with a hard “k” sound at the end. It was how she spelled
tuque
, a Canadian word for hat. Cindy's daughter submitted the entry.

On the day of the drawing, Cindy compiled all the names on a sheet of paper, cut each one out, and folded it up. At 4:30, she went into the manager's office. Although Dan looked like an older version of a bruiser football player, he had a soft heart for kids. He poured the slivers of paper into his baseball cap. With his thickset hand he stirred them and then drew one.

Cindy leaned forward, trying to be patient while he slowly unfolded the paper.

In his deep voice he read, “Tuk!”

Cindy chuckled. God had given her the horse of her dreams, and now He'd guided the manager's hand and chosen the name too. He'd also helped them raise enough money to send the 10-year-old girl on the field trip to Washington, DC.

I marvel at this story because Cindy's blessing resembled a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and bigger—geometrically growing into blessings for everyone it touched. It exemplifies the power of Luke 6:38 perfectly: “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

Cindy had practiced the art of giving for years, and then God blessed her with a horse. God had given her the idea to share her blessing by holding a naming contest. As a result, everyone at the office was
blessed to be part of a meaningful gift to a schoolgirl. The three-year-old girl Cindy's daughter took care of was thrilled that the name she'd submitted was chosen. And, best of all, the schoolgirl's hope became a reality because God encouraged a bunch of people to join together to give a special gift.

This true story inspires me to keep on giving, especially after I've received a special blessing. I'm sure it does the same for you.

Lord, show me opportunities to share hope from the blessings You've given me. Amen.

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Thoughts to Ponder
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When you receive a gift, do you pause to consider how you can use your blessing to bless others? Think of the last gift you received. How could you make it snowball into a blessing for someone else too?

19

GOING HOME

Hope for the Hopeless

T
he June sun rose quickly from behind the rolling, pine-studded hills outside of Mead, Washington. A white, compact car bounced across the grassy field. Kathi's stomach churned as she drove past the horse-driving course dotted with orange construction cones. Parking next to a small, blue tent with an awning where she'd be working, she glanced over at her 34-year-old son. A few strands of his bleached-blond hair poked out from under his white baseball cap that he wore turned backward.

Kathi chose her words carefully. “Joe, you need to stay close to me.”

Joe nodded.

Kathi nervously repeated, “Remember, just stay by me.”

She was taking a risk. She'd never been a photographer at a high-end horse show. Her adventures in photography had blossomed after a local newspaper had published a photograph she'd taken of a horse. A few months later, the owner of a fjord horse farm called and asked if Kathi would be the photographer at the Combined Driving Event their farm was hosting. The event drew contestants from miles around. After saying yes, she asked if she could bring her son as one of her helpers. They'd met her son and knew he was talkative and a bit different. Yes, that was okay, he'd said.