Great Horse Stories (18 page)

A deep and robust nicker greeted Cheryl as she approached one of the stalls. She grinned and then heard the horses outside answer with whinnies. Although the black mare in the stall was nearly 30 years old, Dee Girl was still the herd mare.

After buckling the nylon halter on Dee Girl, Cheryl led her out of the barn toward one of the smaller paddocks. The mare's hooves clip-clopped on the dirt road. The horses in the big pasture raised their heads and watched them. Because Dee Girl was so ancient she was kept in a small paddock next to the big field. She was currently serving as a nanny for a young horse. Suddenly Dee Girl stopped. Cheryl glanced back. Something was horribly wrong.

The mare looked like she was having a seizure. Her body shook. Her eyes grew wide. Every muscle stiffened. Her breathing sped up but then became shallow and labored. Within seconds the shaking stopped and the mare stood as if she were frozen.

Cheryl gasped.
What happened? This is Selena's favorite horse. Nothing
can happen to her!
She stroked the old mare's neck. Under the fur, the skin felt cold and clammy. The horses across the way milled around the fence, pacing as they watched Dee Girl. A wave of panic crashed over Cheryl.
What am I going to do? What's Selena going to do?
She had to get the horse to walk 30 feet to the paddock so she could turn her loose and run for help. Wiggling the lead rope, she urged the mare forward. Dee Girl's head hung low. In slow motion she lifted her head as she dragged one front foot forward. She appeared woozy. With concentrated effort she propped her leg a little to the side, swaying off balance as her muzzle nearly hit the ground.

Cheryl inhaled deeply.
What am I going to do if she falls over?
The mare's breathing was erratic. It seemed like an eternity before Cheryl managed to coax the mare into the paddock. Once inside, Dee Girl stood with her head hanging low, her legs propped at angles to hold her up, her breathing heavy and raspy. It looked like it took all her effort to not fall over.

Cheryl knew this was the end of Dee Girl's life. Thirty was old for a horse. A battery of worries assaulted her.
How is Selena going to take this? Do I stay with Dee Girl? Do I run and get Selena? What if Dee Girl falls over when she is here by herself?

Dee Girl shifted her feet and planted them more solidly. After taking a deep breath, she raised her head and looked at Cheryl, as if releasing her to get help. Cheryl sprinted to Selena's home, a short ways from the barn.

Hearing the news, Selena immediately called the vet, who said she'd come right over.

After examining Dee Girl, it was determined she'd suffered a stroke and wouldn't recover. With tears streaming down her face, Selena made the decision to put Dee Girl down. The vet said she'd come back that afternoon, and Cheryl offered to return later to support Selena.

A wave of anxiety assaulted Cheryl as she drove home.
What happens when a horse is put down? Will I be able to be strong for Selena? What's the herd going to do without Dee Girl? Who would they look to now? How are Selena's kids going to take this? And what am I going to tell my daughter?
Doubts assaulted her as rapidly as machine-gun fire.

Several hours later Cheryl drove down the long road lined by evergreens. She parked by the barn. A huge pile of dirt was heaped by the backhoe. Dressed in coveralls, the veterinarian and Selena stood in the paddock. Tears streamed down Selena's face as she stroked her favorite horse. The old black mare's head hung low.

Gravel crunched under her feet as Cheryl walked to the paddock. Dee Girl didn't even raise her head. The horse was only a shadow of what she'd been only hours earlier. Wanting to give Selena the last few moments alone with her horse, Cheryl stepped into the barn. Under the cover of the weathered wood, she cried and prayed.
Dear Lord, I don't know what to do.
When she paused, anxiety dealt a cruel blow to her heart. Pain was like spears being thrust into her. She closed her eyes and proclaimed aloud, “Please, Lord, give me strength.” Almost instantly she heard in her spirit, “Walk out of the barn.” She recoiled. She wanted to stay in the barn until it was over. But the thought nudged her again.

Cheryl stepped into the afternoon sunlight. Selena and the vet slowly led Dee Girl out of the paddock. Step-by-step the horse struggled to drag one foot in front of the other. With each step Dee Girl grew closer to the paddock containing the herd. Then Cheryl watched a miracle unfold. In the paddock the most dominant horse stepped next to the fence and hung its head over the rail. Then the next most dominant, all the way down the pecking order until every horse stood lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. It was as if God had taken His hand and gently brought each horse up to the fence, one at a time. There wasn't any biting, nipping, or squealing. Instead they all stood at attention, honoring Dee Girl. The peace of the Holy Spirit washed over Cheryl.

With each step Dee Girl drew closer to the line of horses she'd dedicated her life to protecting. She lifted her head higher and higher until she looked like the black beauty she'd once been. Her mane gently tumbled over her neck. Gracefully she arched her tail. When she was even with the first horse, she stopped, turned her head, and whinnied. It was as if Dee Girl passed the torch by appointing a new herd mare, saying, “You're going to have to step up.” That horse—and only that horse—proudly answered. Dee Girl took another step and focused
on the next horse. Her voice sounded different as she whinnied this time. The second horse answered. Down the line of horses Dee Girl went, calling with differing tones to each one, and each horse answered. Was Dee Girl giving them final pieces of advice? All stood in line, their shoulders nearly touching until Dee Girl walked past, and then they slowly faded into the pasture.

Those moments are etched in Cheryl's memory as a miraculous answer to prayer. She'd let anxiety strip her of her courage and take her on an emotional roller-coaster ride. But when she gave her fear to God, He set her free and gave her His peace. It was as if God was showing her that the only thing she had control over was herself. Everything else He had in His hands.

In the past I've struggled with anxiety. When situations looked bleak, I turned to worry, as if worrying could change anything. If ever there was a time for a person to worry, it would have been when the disciples watched Jesus get arrested and sentenced to be crucified. Only the week before, Jesus' fame had soared. The crowds had honored Him by waving palm branches, singing, and dancing when He rode into town on a donkey (John 12:12-15). They had waited thousands of years for the Messiah to come to save them. Jesus, the Messiah, was finally positioned to take His place as king of the Jews. And now this? In a couple of days He would be crucified?

What were the disciples thinking as they watched their Savior die on the cross and their world crumble around them? It was the perfect setup for an anxiety attack. Did they wonder,
How can this be? What will happen to us? Will the world tumble backward into darkness? How are we going to explain this to the other believers? Did we believe in the wrong man?

From the world's standpoint it looked as if all were lost, as if Jesus the Messiah wasn't real. The world looked so dark that perhaps the disciples worried God wouldn't want to save it. Their hopes were crushed. But everything was happening according to God's plan. During those bleak moments, Jesus knew what His disciples would be facing. That's why on many occasions He'd warned them that He would die and God would raise Him from the dead. The words of wisdom He gave to Peter
in the Garden of Gethsemane still apply today: “Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41).

When Cheryl followed Jesus' advice by praying and giving her situation to God, He set her free from anxiety, filled her with His peace, and refueled her hope. The good news is that He'll do the same for you today.

Lord, when I'm tempted to worry, remind me to run to You for wisdom and comfort. Amen.

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Thoughts to Ponder
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Is there something you're worrying about today? Do you have a long list of things that torment you? Our God is the God of comfort and answers. He'll lead you to the perfect solution if you'll pray, listen to His still small voice, and follow His advice. Why not pray right now?

29

SWEAT EQUITY

Diligence

T
he announcer's voice blared through the sound system and carried through the massive indoor arena. The folks on the sidelines cheered for the competitor. Sand sprayed into the air from the horse's hooves as it raced through a cloverleaf pattern around the three barrels. In a small paddock beside the main arena, a cluster of contestants and their horses waited their turn to ride. Kristi sat deep in the saddle. Her chestnut-and-white paint mare shifted her feet, antsy to get going. For Kristi, one of her main goals hinged on this run. If she and her horse, Dreamy, got a top score, she'd qualify to compete at the National Barrel Horse Association World Championship Race, usually referred to simply as “The World.” This was an honor awarded to only a few. The World is one of the toughest barrel racing competitions. Only the best and most athletic horse and rider teams are chosen according to their cumulative scores of the races they'd run that year.

Kristi's thoughts swirled as she looked at the beautiful horses surrounding her. Many were expensive ones that carried famous bloodlines and were trained by top professionals in the industry. They were way out of her league. She and Dreamy were the underdogs. If they qualified, it wouldn't be because of expensive bloodlines or high-dollar trainers. It would be because of years of hard work, tears, and prayers. Kristi wiped her sweaty palms on her blue jeans and prayed.
Lord, wrap Your angels around us. Keep us safe from danger or any injury. Let us have a fast and fun run. Amen.
Kristi leaned forward in the saddle and stroked Dreamy's neck. She gathered the reins and whispered, “All right, girl. You've got to make your mama proud.”

Years ago, Kristi had gotten Lacey, Dreamy's mom. At that time Kristi was a horse-crazy teenager who worked in her family's floor covering store after school. Every spare moment was spent at the barn, living and breathing paint horses so she could barrel race. Her best friend and soon-to-be-husband, Dwight, wanted to buy her a second horse, so he took her to a catalog horse sale. When she got out of the truck, she spotted a chestnut-and-white paint being lunged in a pen. Instantly she knew that was the horse she wanted. The mare had been bred with cow horse and speed bloodlines. When it pranced, it exuded an air of power, confidence, and majesty. Kristi could see herself winning while riding her. She was thrilled when she was the high bidder and the auctioneer's voice rang out, “Sold!”

Then the nightmare began.

When Kristi walked Lacey to her horse trailer, the mare seemed skittish and head shy. And she limped. After picking up the sore foot, Kristi discovered that the horse was wearing an egg-bar horseshoe, sealing off the frog part of the hoof from contacting the ground. She'd never seen anything like them before. A warning bell rang in her mind.
Is there something really wrong with her feet? If there is, I can get out of the sale right now.

She led the mare to the back of the trailer.

The paint refused to load. She threw up her head and braced her feet.

Kristi tried everything she knew of, but nothing worked.

A tall man wearing a starched, white dress shirt, starched jeans, cowboy boots, and a hat offered to help. He said he was the horse's former owner. The whites of the mare's eyes showed as soon as he took hold of the lead rope. Suddenly he wielded a whip. He beat the mare's legs and face. The mare reared and fought to get away.

Kristi screamed, “Stop it! Stop beating her!”

Finally he quit.

After he left, Kristi calmed Lacey and eventually coaxed the horse into the trailer. Any thoughts of canceling the sale had been dispelled. She knew she needed to do the right thing for the mare too. She wouldn't send the horse back to a man that beat her for anything.

After consulting her veterinarian, Kristi discovered that Lacey had been drugged before the sale and most likely would be permanently lame. In spite of the mare's abuse, the two became best friends almost immediately. Kristi resigned herself to the fact that she would be the caretaker of the horse for the rest of her life. Even though the mare couldn't do anything productive for her, Kristi doted on her friend, giving her supplements to help with her hoof problem. She even trailered the horse miles away to a specialty farrier. On one of those visits she shared with him that she'd been trying to raise a colt out of her other mare, but year after year the mare didn't get pregnant.

He grinned. “You ought to breed Lacey to my stallion. It would make a great barrel racing prospect.”

Kristi went to see his stallion and was awestruck. She hadn't considered breeding Lacey, but why not?

During the pregnancy, Kristi loved to slip into Lacey's stall at night. In the cool evening air she'd wrap her hands around the mare's belly and, in a singsong voice, Kristi would chatter to the baby in the womb. “I can't wait to meet you.” The mare would turn her head sideways and bat her long eyelashes. Her days of abuse in the past were erased.

Kristi had studied and memorized every stage of a horse's pregnancy and delivery. The week before Lacey was due, Kristi and Dwight, now her husband, shoved together six bales of hay to make a bed for themselves in the aisle outside Lacey's stall. They wanted to make sure they were present when their first foal was born. The February air was so cold they could see their breaths as they bundled up in their sleeping bags. Night after night they shivered as they tossed and turned. Every time the mare moaned, Kristi flicked on the flashlight and peered over the half-stall door. Then one morning at 2:30, Lacey lay down and her water broke.