Great Horse Stories (8 page)

After laps that included turning left and right, the horse's confidence surged and her response time to Cat's cues quickened.

The teenager beamed. Her training was paying off. Delhi was looking to her for leadership without the use of a bridle, with its bit, reins, and chin strap. Cat shifted her weight back, and the mare stopped. “You've got that down too! That-a-girl, Delhi!” Cat exclaimed.

As she stroked the mare's neck another crazy idea raced through her mind.
What would Delhi do if I took her sight away?
In the wild, horses are preyed upon by predators, and they rely on their sight and other senses to protect them from danger.
Will she follow the cues if I put a blanket over her head? Or will she freak out, bolt, and shake the blanket
—
and maybe me
—
off?
Cat knew this would be an ultimate test of trust.

Cat yelled to Holly, asking, “Will you please get me a clean saddle blanket?”

Holly disappeared into the tack room.

Cat's heart raced. With her legs, she loosely gripped the mare's sides so she wouldn't get thrown off in case the horse spooked.

Holly returned and held the blanket up to Cat.

Reaching down, Cat firmly grasped the multicolored blanket and held it off to the side for Delhi to inspect.

Turning her head and with her nostrils slightly flared, Delhi sniffed the blanket and then seemed to lose interest.

Cat exhaled.
So far, so good.
Draping the blanket over the horse's neck, Cat leaned forward and slowly pushed it up the mare's neck toward her head. Inch by inch the blanket slithered up the mare's neck as Cat offered soft words of encouragement. When it reached the horse's ears, Cat felt Delhi's back muscles tense. The mare raised her head more. Cat paused for a moment and held her breath. Grabbing either side of the blanket, she gently lifted it over the mare's head and let it settle. She grabbed a handful of blond mane and waited.

•
Delhi and Cat
•

The mare stood frozen in place, every muscle as rigid as steel. Her breathing was faster and shallow.

The chirping of the birds in the rafters echoed through the arena. Minutes ticked past. Delhi slowly lowered her head to normal position, a sign she'd accepted the circumstances.

Cat gently rubbed the mare's neck before shifting her weight forward and nudging the horse with her legs.

Delhi lifted one front leg high, not sure if she needed to step over something. She swung it forward.

The teenager grinned. “Good girl, Delhi!” She squeezed her legs again.

With jerky movements, the mare lifted her legs like she was a high-stepping horse and swung them forward. Step-by-step she trudged around the arena, slowly turning left and right on cue.

With each response, Cat's respect for the horse deepened. When they completed the circuit, Cat pulled the blanket off the horse's head and slid off Delhi's back. Her heart soared as she wrapped her arms around the mare's neck and buried her face in the velveteen fur. Cat had achieved her dream in training. Delhi totally trusted her—even being willing to walk blindfolded. Delhi had moved forward in faith—faith in her trainer.

When Cat shared this special memory with me, my jaw dropped. It had never occurred to me to put a blanket over a horse's head to see if my training was effective and if the animal really trusted me.

I thought of how much this story resembles our relationship with God. Our foundation in Him is built by walking in faith. Paul wrote, “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7
NKJV
). But in order to do that we need to develop a relationship with God that is filled with trust and confidence. Years ago I studied John 10:27: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” I yearned to recognize God's voice faster and more clearly. It seemed like the chattering distractions of this world boomed louder than His “still small voice” (1 Kings 19:11-12). Because I was hungry to learn, God gave me an opportunity that stretched my faith so much that I've never been the same.

At the time I was working for some airlines in Kalispell, Montana. It had been another slushy, dark day in March. I left work exhausted from handling 149 irate passengers whose flight had been cancelled. I unlocked the back door of my home and heard the phone ringing. When I answered, my sister's distressed voice recounted her troubles with her car, an older, red, Chevy Cavalier station wagon with dark-tinted windows and bumper stickers plastered all over the back end.

Julie's husband was in the army and stationed in South Korea for a year. The army had recently moved the family to a base in Olympia, Washington, and then sent him overseas. Julie hadn't had time to develop good friends there yet. Her voice shook as she told me she'd taken the car to the same garage quite a few times and spent well over $1000. That day she'd dumped another $200 into getting it fixed. And now it was running even worse. Her wavering voice asked, “What should I do?”

During my college years, I'd worked in a garage. I knew enough about cars and garages to know she was being fleeced. After giving her advice, I hung up. As I twisted my long, blond hair into a knot, God nudged my spirit.
Why don't you go help her? You have tomorrow off from work, and you can fly free with one of your airline passes.

I glanced at the clock. The last flight for the day left in 20 minutes. I could make it if I left immediately. Fumbling for the phone, I dialed Julie. She didn't answer. I left a message and raced to the airport.

I didn't realize it, but this situation was set up by God. Over the next 24 hours He taught me one of the most precious lessons I've ever learned—how to walk by faith and not by sight.

Sleet pelted the airplane as it taxied into Sea-Tac (Seattle/Tacoma) airport. I called Julie again and still got no answer. From the airport I caught a shuttle to Olympia. During the hour-long commute I kept dialing and getting the answering machine. The driver kindly listened to my story, and he recommended an honest garage. At eleven that night, he dropped me off at a motel. All night I called, dozed, prayed, and called again. I prayed, “Lord, lead me to my sister. Keep her safe.” By morning I had bloodshot eyes and felt terrible with no makeup with me and only rumpled, day-old clothes to wear.

God had dropped a blanket over my head.

At the motel counter, I brushed my bangs from my eyes and asked which bus to take to get to my sister's place.

The clerk pointed out the door. “That one.”

A city bus idled at the curb. Nodding, I rushed out the door. Instantly I felt God arresting my spirit. “No! Not that one.”

I stopped.
But that one goes to her apartment, Lord,
I countered silently.

“Not that one,” was what I heard again in my spirit.

I glanced at my watch. Eight o'clock. Time was fleeting. I had to find Julie, get her car fixed, take the hour-long shuttle ride back to Sea-Tac Airport, and fly home that night because I had to be at work in the morning.

Suddenly God's voice boomed in my spirit. “Go to your room, and wait on Me.”

I climbed the stairs to my room and flopped down on the bed. I prayed and waited. An hour later, I felt God nudge me: “Now.” I looked out the window. Sure enough there was a bus, but it was going the wrong direction. I took a deep breath and ran down the stairs. Climbing aboard, I paid the fare and sank into the front seat. The bus wound through downtown Olympia on the opposite side of town from Julie's home. Sleepily I watched businesses flash past. Nothing was open this early. The bus ground to a stop at a red traffic light. I
glanced out the window into a mall parking lot. I blinked. It was empty except for one car—an older, red, Chevy Cavalier station wagon with tinted windows and bumper stickers plastered all over the back end.

Julie's car!
The light turned green. The bus accelerated and turned the corner. I screamed at the driver to stop. Stammering, I explained why I needed to get off.

He nodded and amazingly turned the bus around and drove back. Parking next to her car, he opened the doors and wished me well.

I skipped down the steps. The car was empty.
Okay, God, what now?
I asked. Then I scribbled a note to Julie. “I'm in Olympia. Don't leave without me. Love, Sis.” Tucking it under the windshield wiper, I glanced at the long building. The businesses appeared to be closed, but I felt drawn to one particular entrance. I walked over, grasped the cold, metal door handle, and pulled. The door opened. Stepping through, I looked down the long hallway of a strip mall. All the gates were down, except one. Woolworths was open. My footsteps echoed down the hall. I peeked in and saw the food counter. Julie sat at a booth, her back to me, eating bacon and eggs.

I walked in and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, screamed with delight, and grabbed me in a big hug. With tears rolling down her cheeks she exclaimed, “I was praying that God would send you!”

Julie explained that she'd gone over to a new friend's home to spend the night, which is why she hadn't gotten my messages. But we were together now.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind as we went to the garage, and I helped her get all her repair money refunded. We drove the car to the new place that had been recommended. They fixed the car right. I barely had enough time to get back to the motel, catch the shuttle to the airport, and then board the last flight headed home.

That night as I sat on the plane watching the twinkling lights below, I savored the miracle God had orchestrated. He'd given me an opportunity to grow my faith! Only God could have led me to Julie on such a direct route. Although the situation had been about Julie's car breaking down, the crux of the experience was God taking me to the next level of faith. It was as if He'd stripped a saddle and bridle off me and
then nudged me to go to Olympia even though Julie didn't answer her phone. When I'd landed in Seattle, it was as if He tossed a blanket over my head and said, “Trust Me. I'll show you something really cool. I know where your sister is and I'll show you.”

Since that day, when I find myself in the dark about what to do, I remember that time. I stop, pray, and listen. I have the utmost confidence that God will always whisper the answer I need. All I have to do is follow His cues.

Lord, when I face the uncertainties of life, give me the courage to walk by faith in You. Amen.

•
Thoughts to Ponder
•

Have you felt like someone tossed a blanket over your head and asked you to take a step forward? If so, what did you do? Have you thought of those situations as great opportunities to grow your faith? How might you respond more positively next time?

13

SCARED TO DEATH

Conquering Fear

L
ou, a 63-year-old riding student, sat stiffly in the saddle. Although he'd been taking lessons for months, fear gripped him and he couldn't relax his 6-foot, 220-pound body. With every step, dust filtered into the air and the cool, early-morning breeze carried it through the indoor arena. The clops of a brown-and-white paint gelding walking in a circle around Kathy, the horse trainer and riding instructor, were the loudest sounds.

Kathy ran her hand through her dark-brown hair and wondered how she could help Lou. “You've got to do something other than walk, Lou,” she encouraged.

The man gripped the reins tighter. Gritting his teeth he growled, “I'll do it when I'm good and ready.” Silently he wondered if he were insane for doing this. He had battled the fear of horses his whole life. His resume of horse experiences read like a horror story.

At five years old he was thrown by his uncle's horse, got a concussion, went into a coma, and was hospitalized for two days.

A couple years later, his tomboy cousin pointed to a spot in the corral. “Stand right there. Don't be afraid. Stand still,” she commanded. The next thing Lou knew his cousin whooped and hollered while herding several draft horses at full gallop toward him. Blood drained out of his face. Hooves thundered and the ground shook. The beasts towered over him. At the last moment, they swerved around him.

And the list could go on and on.
Every time I'm around horses, something bad happens,
Lou decided. The saddle creaked as he continued to walk Jag. Lou's chest tightened at the thought of doing anything else.
The crazy part was that he wasn't a cowardly person. He'd grown up in Stockton, California, which at that time had the dubious distinction of being one of the toughest little towns in America. He'd served in law enforcement and confronted dangerous suspects under dire circumstances. He wasn't afraid of any two-legged animal; he'd go down a dark alley after anyone. But when two more legs and a thousand pounds were added, fear suffocated him.

Lou's desire to conquer his fear of riding surfaced when his doctor spotted something wrong in his blood tests. A week later the physician told him the chances of surviving the illness were low. Lou's condition was stabilized, but during that time his mother and sister passed away and his brother had been diagnosed with cancer. Spurred on by thoughts of dying, Lou's mind had drifted to his unfulfilled dreams. As a child he'd wanted to be a cowboy. He proudly wore cap guns. Roy Rogers and Gene Autry were his heroes. He dreamed of riding. For the first time he realized that his fear of horses had kept him from pursuing his dream. A short time later the phone rang. It was his granddaughters' excited voices telling him that they were taking horseback riding lessons. Lou's mind brightened with the idea that he'd like to surprise them by riding alongside them. It was time to face his fear. So he set his goal, searched out a horse trainer, and took action.