Great Horse Stories (20 page)

The love God placed between Bethany and Honey carried the teenager further than anyone imagined. His plans are so much bigger than ours! He doesn't want us to just survive; He wants us to thrive. On Memorial Day 2009, the ranch held a big celebration. The twins breathlessly watched a trick rider do gymnastics on her horse to music. Like all teens who are impressed with something, it wasn't long before Bethany and Brittany were working with a trainer and learning how to safely stand on their saddles while their horses trotted around the arena.
Encouraged by their trainer, they soon added trick riding lessons from another trainer to their schedules.

The two girls thrived on the challenge of learning to ride a horse full-speed while performing gymnastics. They practiced six hours a day. Within a year, the twins were performing as “The Double Trouble Trick Riders.” Recently their younger sister, “Lil Yodelin Libby,” has joined them. They've gone on to thrill audiences throughout the United States with their daredevil horseback riding. Since starting horseback riding in 2009, they've been featured in many venues, including the United Rodeo Association, the American Royal Youth Rodeo in Kemper Arena, the Cody Wyoming Nite Rodeo, and the American Finals Rodeo Association.

God took a family that was beaten down and battling the devil's stronghold of anorexia and transformed each member through the power of His hope and love. Now the family has a mission—to encourage others so they will also know that with God there's always hope.

Lord, when I feel trapped in hopelessness, please remind me that You are the way, the truth, and the life. Amen.

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Bethany and Honey
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Thoughts to Ponder
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When you face a hopeless situation, do you ask God to lead you out of it first thing? How can you keep your eyes open for opportunities He might be presenting to you when you're struggling? How will you handle difficulties better next time?

31

STICKY FEET

Consistency

T
he rays of the March sunshine warmed my back as I ran my hand down Wind Dancer's hind leg. My sorrel mule cocked her leg, shifting the weight to the other side. I tried to pick up her foot, but she wouldn't release it. I lightly tapped her leg. “C'mon, Wind Dancer, pick up your foot.” She stood like a bronze statue. I groaned.
Not again! Didn't we just cover this ground last week?
She has what's known among mule owners as “sticky feet.” She acts like all four feet are cemented in place when she doesn't want to cooperate.

I'd been working with Wind Dancer 35 minutes a day, every day, for the last two weeks. The farrier would be coming out to trim her hooves in a couple of weeks, and last time he had a wrestling match with her. I felt horrible for him and was totally embarrassed by my mule's lack of manners. So each afternoon I'd bundled up in my tan Carhartt bib-overalls and jacket after spending a long day at work and went out to stand beside my mule. I'd like to say “work with my mule,” but really I didn't have much to show for it. Wind Dancer still refused to give me her feet. Only last week God had encouraged me to feed her a round slice of carrot as a reward when Wind Dancer cooperated. She'd responded well for a few days, but now her feet were stuck again. Only this time one leg was half-cocked.
God, what's her problem now? How long is this going to take? Will she ever pick up her feet for me?

Patiently I held my hand on her left hind leg. “Yoo-hoo! Wind Dancer, I'm still here. Did you forget about me?” Gently I squeezed the chestnut on her lower leg and then released the pressure. The leg lifted ever so slightly, but then she quickly put her weight back on it.
Excitedly I stood up and chimed. “Good girl! I knew you could do it!” Quickly I fished a carrot slice out of my pocket. Scratching her neck, I reached my left arm under her jowls and over her nose to draw her face toward me to give her the carrot. But she tossed her head and backed away. Astonished, I stared at her. In my spirit I heard, “She doesn't trust you as her leader. That's why she won't give you her head or let you pick up her feet.”

My red mule stood braced with wide eyes as she looked at me. I stood there in shock. I'd never even considered that Wind Dancer didn't trust me.
Why, I'm the one who raised her…and planned her from conception. I talked to her the whole time she was in her mother's womb. I'm the only person she's really known her whole life. How can she not trust me?

I stepped next to Wind Dancer and scratched her neck. In my spirit I heard the answer: “You haven't been consistent with your training. Consistency is what develops trust in the leader.” I sighed. I knew I hadn't been working with my mule regularly. I'd done that when she was a baby, but since then I'd taken on an intense, full-time job in town. I'd devoted myself to learning the new job thoroughly while my horses and mules stood around in the pasture. Once I was out of the routine of working with them, I'd merely spent time with them during feeding time.

Wind Dancer was a well-behaved
friend
, but I hadn't done anything to develop a teacher–pupil relationship. The good news was I'd invested the last two weeks building it. The bad news was that I had a long way to go.

I looked into her soft-brown eyes. “Okay, girl, we're going to work on you trusting me to move your head.” Once again I stood with my left shoulder next to her right shoulder. I reached my left arm under her jowls and scratched her cheek. I gently moved my hand over the top of her nose and paused. Slowly, with very little pressure, I guided her head toward me. With my right hand I poked a slice of carrot into the corner of her mouth.

My mule's glance darted sideways, looking at me. I could almost hear her say, “What are you doing?” She pressed her lips tightly together.

I pushed the carrot further in with my index finger. The slice disappeared.

When she tasted the carrot, her eyes lit up. They said, “Wow! Is that all you wanted? All I have to do is let you move my head and I get a carrot? Do it again!”

After half a dozen times, as soon as I guided her head to the side, Wind Dancer would pucker her lips and wiggle them as she groped for a carrot slice.

Chuckling, I poked one more slice into her mouth. “Next we're working on your hind feet,” I announced. I stepped to her rear and rested my hand on the top of her hip. She shifted her weight to the other side. I lifted my eyebrows.
Nice. This might not be difficult at all.
I ran my hand down her leg. Before I got to her hoof, she picked up her foot and let me hold it.
Wow! Once I got her to trust me with her head, she trusted me with her feet. Hmmm.

When I was finished working with her, I handed Wind Dancer the last carrot. She chewed it up, flipped back her top lip so her teeth showed, and nodded toward me. I'm sure she was saying, “Thanks, Mom! Those were great!”

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Wind Dancer saying, “Thank you!”
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Over the next couple of weeks I continued to work with Wind Dancer daily. When the farrier set his tool bin next to her and reached for her hind foot, she placed it in his hand. He was shocked, and my heart soared! I hadn't wasted all that time! The consistent effort applied
to my hope that she could learn had paid off. As her leader, I'd built up her trust in humans.

Thoughts about her sticky feet drifted through my mind the next couple of days.
My consistency in training Wind Dancer is so much like my relationship with God.
It reminded me of 1 Corinthians 9:25-26: “Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.” The apostle Paul understood the power of training. As I reviewed the past few years of my life, I noticed that when I put effort into making time for Bible study and prayer, I'd grow. I started out as a person who had sticky feet when God asked me to do something. I'd known God for years, but I would lock my feet and stand like a statue because He'd been a great friend but I didn't trust Him as my leader. As I became more consistent in my Bible study, I got to the point where I was ready to step out in faith the instant I realized what He wanted me to do. But it wasn't until I meditated on Him and learned more about Him from His Word that I could confidently say, “Yes, Lord” when He asked something of me. When I let Him turn my head toward Him, I started trusting Him in a deeper way. Consistency is a powerful asset.

Lord, show me how to be consistent in following You. Amen.

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Thoughts to Ponder
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What do you think the correlation is between being consistent and developing trust?

When God asks you to do something, do you have sticky feet? Or perhaps you stand with one leg cocked
almost
ready to cooperate? What would help you develop more trust in your Lord?

32

AGAINST ALL ODDS

Attitude

S
now crunched under Wendy's and Gary's boots. Vapor rose from their mouths and noses as they breathed in and out. Wendy cracked open the heavy, wooden door and they entered the tall, 100-year-old, timber-framed barn. Although they'd installed a big heater in there, the air was still crisp. From the back stall they heard a high-pitched nicker from one of their two-week-old colts. He was the happiest colt Wendy had ever had. She had dubbed him Big Red shortly after he was born. When he was just a week old, his red body was the size of a typical month-old colt.

Another happy nicker drifted through the barn. Gary and Wendy looked at each other with a question in their eyes.
Maybe today is the day we can make a positive decision.

With a hesitant heart she walked to the back stall and peeked in. The red colt grunted and chortled as if nothing was wrong. Wendy pursed her lips and braced her heart against the possible reality.
Lord, what do we do? Should we put him down?

Mariah stood over her colt. Big Red lay on the golden straw. He raised his head, but his body remained prone. His bright-brown eyes followed any movement Wendy made. It had been six long days since the colt lay on the floor and couldn't voluntarily move any part of his body below his neck. The weather had dipped below zero, and to keep the unmoving colt warm, Wendy had wrapped him in a “Redneck Blanket.” She'd pulled a hooded sweatshirt over his front-end, threading his limp front legs through the arms. On his rear-end she'd used a thermal top, putting his hind legs through the arms and his tail
through the neck hole. Then she'd tied the two together. Even that hadn't been enough. Hour after hour Wendy had knelt on the floor next to him, massaging his cold legs so the blood would continue to circulate through them.

Big Red was born a healthy, happy, frolicking colt. Then a week ago, while doing her rounds to check on the mares and colts, Wendy had discovered him lying in the pen unable to move. It was almost like he'd been paralyzed, but instead of his body being stiff, it was like Jell-O. Wendy had raised horses for more than 30 years, and her mind clicked through the list of possible illnesses and diseases. She'd examined him and found he had a fever so she'd started him on antibiotics and prayed that he'd recover. Every hour and a half around the clock she and Gary had gone out to the barn to lift him under the mare so he could nurse. They were exhausted from only getting in catnaps and discouraged because even though his fever was gone, the colt remained helpless.

Steam rose from Big Red's nostrils. He chortled as if saying, “Oh good! You're here. I'm so glad. Hurry and pick me up. I'm hungry.” The colt was growing so fast that he was almost too heavy for the two of them to lift. Gary squatted next to his front end and wrapped his arms underneath. Wendy wiggled her arms under the colt's back end. On the count of three they heaved him waist high.