Great Horse Stories (3 page)

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Authors: Rebecca E. Ondov

BOOK: Great Horse Stories
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Blessings come from God. When I'm feeling discouraged, Becky's story gives me hope. If God plans when a horse is going to be born, surely He plans our lives. Can you imagine God watching someone being born and saying, “Wow, that's a surprise”? No, He's never said that. No one is a mistake. Even people born from “unplanned pregnancies” by human standards are planned and created by God.

Acts 17:26 reveals God's infinite design: “From one man [God] made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands.” What a comforting thought! The God of the universe cares so much for us that He planned our lives before we were born. Like making sure Becky got her miracle pony, God is always at work around us crafting His wonderful plan.

Lord, reveal to me Your miraculous plans for my life. Amen.

•
Thoughts to Ponder
•

Have you doubted that you were created specifically by God and
that you are part of His plan? Have you wondered if you should have been born? You don't have to wonder anymore!
You were planned by God!

“You [God] created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb…Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Psalm 139:13,16).

3

NIGHT RIDE

Finding the Way Home

B
lack…pitch black. The moon wasn't up, and not a star glimmered in the sky. The only sounds to be heard were the horses' metal shoes clicking against the granite on the trail and an occasional whisper of the wind through the pines. A cool breeze brushed past 10-year-old Shane, who sat in the saddle on his favorite horse named Paint. His dad was on a horse in front of him, and a friend and his horse were behind him. Shane could hear his dad's horse's hooves hitting the ground in front of him, but it was so dark he couldn't see the horse. He couldn't even make out a faint outline. The only way he knew which direction to go was by the sounds in front of him. His tummy churned. He didn't like riding blind.

Shane was already a good rider. He was growing up on a cattle ranch and spent his summers in the high mountains of California tending the herds. More than one night he'd ridden back to the ranch in the dark. But this was different. They were in the middle of the Yosemite Wilderness, 9000-feet above sea level. There were no neighbors' lights glimmering in the distance. Shane waved his hand in front of his face. He couldn't even see it. Worse yet, they were bushwhacking through downed timber and across granite slabs to ride back to their “spike,” or secondary, camp.

They were on a guys' outing—a pack trip into the wilderness. That morning they'd tied their fishing poles onto their saddles and stuffed sack lunches in the saddlebags before riding out of their tent camp and winding up the steep mountain. They didn't follow a trail. They were exploring the area to find a hidden lake with crystalline blue water—a
place they were sure no one had gone to before. The day had promised to be full of adventure, and indeed it had been.

They'd found the lake's general location, tied up the horses, and hiked in. Soon they had their lines in the water. While fishing around the granite shore, they'd killed two rattlesnakes that had threatened them. They had so much fun gawking at the trophy-sized trout and trying to catch more that they lost track of time. The sun was sinking low behind the sheer peaks when they folded up their fishing poles, hiked over the top of the mountain, and scaled down to the horses. They had just enough time to tie their gear onto their saddles and swing up before the sun fell from the sky and darkness engulfed them.

In the black night, Shane heard his dad's horse crash through some deadfall. Shane's dad gruffed a few words and then turned in the saddle and called back to his son. “Shane, get up here in front and drop the reins on ol' Paint. He's surefooted and will lead us back to camp.”

Shane braced himself as he nudged Paint forward. He didn't want to be in the lead. He didn't know where to go.
Can Paint see where he's going? Will he step off the side of the mountain?
the boy wondered. When his dad rode in front of him, Shane could tell if the trail was going uphill or downhill by the sounds, but now he was on his own. He grabbed onto the saddle horn with one hand as Paint lurched around the other horse and moved into the black night. Shane felt his horse's back muscles ripple. Paint pulled on the reins and then dropped his head and snuffled the ground. Shane figured he was working out where they were. Paint suddenly raised his head and lengthened his stride. Shane's body rocked backward.

The boy's mind raced wildly. W
hat about the limbs on the trees? Will they whack me in the face and poke my eye out? Will a branch knock me out of the saddle?
Shane slowed his horse to a crawl. He wanted to hold an arm in front of his face, but he didn't want to let go of the saddle horn or the reins.

His dad's voice roared behind him, “Just let Paint have the reins!”

Shane knew that really meant “Get moving!” He felt like he was on a roller coaster with his eyes shut. He struggled to keep his balance when Paint stepped downhill. When the horse dislodged stones, Shane
shuddered as he heard them drop off the cliff and ricochet to the bottom. Plink…plink…plunk. His heart pounded when he heard Paint's hooves scrape over the bark of a downed log. He forced himself to tie a knot in the reins and drop them on Paint's neck. An hour later Paint stopped. They'd arrived at their spike camp safe and sound!

Now, decades later, Shane remembers that ride as one of his most memorable times as a kid because he had to let go of the reins and trust Paint to take him home.

That reminds me of a time mentioned in the Bible. God told Abram to pack up and move. “The L
ORD
had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father's household to the land I will show you' ” (Genesis 12:1). At that time Abram was no spring chicken. He was 75 years old! And God didn't give Abram specific directions, such as “Go until you get to the olive tree and take a left.” God simply said, “Go.”

I wonder if Abram had to fight thoughts of doubt?
But where, God? If I don't know where I'm going, how do I know what to bring?
How could a 75-year-old man tell his wife, his nephew, and his servants to pack all their stuff and go traipsing into the sunset? Or maybe it was the sunrise. Did he have a clue which direction to go before he got on his camel?

Like Abram and Shane, we need to let go of the reins of our daily lives. We need to let God guide us to where
He
wants us to go. He never promised to unfold His whole plan in front of us—probably because He knows us too well…He knows me too well. If I saw the whole plan, I'm sure that in 10 seconds flat I'd have everything organized into checklists. Before long it wouldn't be God's plan anymore.

God shows us the next step, and that's all He expects us to follow. We move forward one step at a time under His direction. That's why it's called
faith
. So if you're facing a dark night, pray. Ask God what your next step is, and then drop the reins, let God lead, and hold on for the ride of your life!

I'm so glad, Lord, that You can see into the future, that Your wisdom is perfect, and that You generously share Your wisdom with me. Please do that now. Amen.

•
Thoughts to Ponder
•

Do you ever feel like you're riding a horse through the dark along the edge of a cliff? That at any moment you could plunge into an abyss? I encourage you to ask God to be your Guide and then drop the reins and follow Him. He'll get you home every time.

4

MISSING

Finding the Answer

M
Y headlamp cast a narrow beam of light through the corral. Steam from my breath hung in the still, winter air. The black-plastic sled laden with hay bumped and scraped across the snow as I dragged it behind me. It was four in the morning and feeding time for my five horses and two mules. Two were seniors, so I'd worked out a special routine. I fed the young stock in the corral, and the ancient ones I fed in the pasture by themselves. That way the old ones could linger over their food for a few hours, chewing it slowly with their worn-down teeth. If I didn't separate them for feeding, the young ones would gobble down their food and push the old ones out of the way and scarf down theirs too. Just before leaving for work, I'd put them back in the same pasture.

The squeaking sounds of hooves in the snow followed closely behind me. My mind swirled with all the decisions I needed to make. Over the past few weeks I'd been trying to figure out if I should sell my pickup truck and buy a new one. Mine was old and needed some work done to it. I'd asked my family and friends for their opinions. I'd even looked at some of the used car places and read the classifieds looking for another truck. One minute I wanted a new-to-me truck; the next minute I'd wonder if I should fix mine. I couldn't make up my mind.

I tossed a couple flakes of hay into a wooden feeder. In the shadows caused by my headlamp beam, I saw Dazzle and Wind Dancer belly up to the feeder. When I grasped the rope on the sled and pulled it forward, it sounded like only two animals were following me. I turned and cast the beam of light around. Sure enough, one was missing—Czar. I'd owned him since he was a colt, and he'd never missed out on a meal.

Something must really be wrong
, I thought. He'd been my saddle horse in the mountains, and I'd ridden him thousands of miles. He'd been my best friend and had saved my life a couple times. At 31 years old, he was fading away. With a heavy heart, I swung my head back and forth, shining the light around the corral to look for him.

Nothing.
Maybe he went out into the pasture. Maybe he lay down and died. It's about his time. When it gets to be daylight, I'll go look for him.
My heart was heavy as I fed the other two critters and dragged the sled back to the barn. As I entered the narrow doorway, out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed something. I jumped, gasped, and turned my head to aim the light on it. I laughed! Czar stood next to the large stack of hay, his back sagging from his years. He turned his head and blinked. Stems of alfalfa stuck out from between his lips. He was eating the hay directly out of the bales! In all the years I'd owned him, he'd never gone into the barn willingly. I slipped a halter on him. “So, the wise old horse goes right to the unlimited source now,” I said with a smile as I patted his neck.

•
Czar and Rebecca
•

I giggled as I led him out to the pasture.
That's exactly what I need to do too,
I thought.
Go to the unlimited Source of all wisdom
. Although it was good to have asked for people's opinions about buying a different truck, I realized I'd never asked God! The next few days I invested time in prayer. I sensed I was to get my old truck fixed. That was several years ago, and I'm glad I did. I still have the same truck, and it's perfect for me.

Czar lived another year. Over the many years we traveled life's trail together, I learned so much from him.

On that “going to the Source day,” God showed me such a huge message through Czar. Even though it may seem like such a small thing, it was life changing because it reflected God's wisdom: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who
gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5). God provides road markers for walking out a life of faith. I've not deliberated long over decisions since then because the all-knowing God of the universe is more than willing to share His wisdom. It's sometimes hard to wait for His reply, but it always comes.

Lord, when I forget to ask You for wisdom, please nudge me. Amen.

•
Thoughts to Ponder
•

Do you get so consumed in gathering information to make a decision that you forget to ask God what would be best for you? Are you facing any decisions now? What steps will you take to consult the ultimate Source of wisdom?

5

ALL WET

Obedience

T
he purple light of dawn was breaking across the Cypress Hills in Saskatchewan, Canada. Most of the snow had melted, filling the creeks to their banks. A whisper of nippy air hung over the rolling hills. Ross grabbed a halter and walked into a large calf pen. In the dim morning light, he cast a glance over the large pasture. He'd put a lone saddle horse in here last night so they could get an early start. He called, “Brandy! Come 'ere, Brandy!”

Today Ross was headed over to the neighbor's place to help them brand calves. It was going to be a long, sweaty day so he'd chosen one of his favorite horses to ride. Brandy was a bay mare who had been born on his ranch and was worth her weight in gold. He'd trained her himself. One of the first things he'd taught her was to come when called. She'd turned out to be a cracking good partner for calving, irrigating, pulling calves close to the branding fire, roping, and trailing cattle in the hills. The wise horse had even helped teach Ross's children to ride. During the tough and long day of branding coming up, a good horse would make it much easier—almost pleasant.

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