by Kim Meeder
Certainly, it is our actions that prove what is true. No words were going to soften the pain for either of us. Our actions reflect what is truly inside our hearts. So there on the fence, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand and heart to heart … we wept.
Finally, when her tears were spent, she slowly moved her head backward and looked up into my face. Although she said nothing, her expression was questioning.
Lord, it is time to rebuild her foundation. Please help her to understand … and trust, I prayed before I began to speak. “Shonee was one of the greatest horses that ever lived. She made us all better just by being our friend. Without her, the ranch will never be the same. It will be different. Shonee knew that you loved her every day of her life, even to her last minutes. She was loved all the way to heaven’s gate. Sarah … I have something that I need to share with you …”
I took a deep breath and continued to silently pray for wisdom.
“Sarah, love is a very powerful thing … especially the pure love of a little girl. Your love, Sarah, is a precious gift to those you choose to give it to … it changes them from the inside out. Being loved changes us all. Honey, your special love … is special indeed. I think that your Shonee Girl was completely full of your love—enough to last a whole entire lifetime. Maybe … just maybe … it is time for another hurting horse to be filled up … to have their life changed by your special love. Do you think that it’s possible?” I asked in a small voice as I held her upward gaze.
Magnified by her glasses, her round eyes were so big they looked more like deep blue moons. I don’t know if it was their size or depth or the fact that they were shimmering with tears, but in that moment Sarah’s eyes seemed to be penetrating my very soul.
Momentarily she glanced to the side as she contemplated the new idea that I had just presented: Could there be another horse that needed her special love? The wheels of possibility churned within her. When she seemed to have reached a conclusion, she turned back to me and, without a word, solemnly nodded.
As Shonee “ran on ahead” … perhaps another was trailing behind … another who was lagging back in brokenness … another who was in great need of the love of a little blond girl with thick glasses.
The first heavy snows of winter were beginning to fall, and with it came an unusually heavy amount of folks who were wishing to donate horses to our ranch. Since the ranch is located on only nine tiny acres … our corrals “runneth over” with our own herd of twenty-five to thirty horses. Because not every horse that the ranch rescues is destined to be suitable for children, horses that are not a “fit” for our program are adopted out into appropriate homes … occasionally making room for others to come in.
While walking around the snow-laden “block”—which, where I live, is about four miles—Chris and I were catching up on all that had transpired since our last time together. Conversation flowed easily between us as we carefully navigated the snow and ice. When we turned the final corner toward home, Chris suddenly burst out, “Oh my gosh! Now I remember what I was going to tell you. Remember the folks from Washington who bought that little gelding for their daughter? They sent more information yesterday. You’re not going to believe this …”
Once Chris had revived my leaky memory, she launched into the next chapter of information. A young mother wished to buy a small horse for her six-year-old daughter so they could trail-ride together. After finding what appeared to be a suitable horse—small, quiet, slow, uncomplicated, and patient—they brought the little gelding home and quickly realized that his “quiet” temperament was attributed to the fact that he had been drugged! The small gelding “awoke” into a very frightened, nervous, head-shy little man who had all the markers of a horse who had been violently battered.
Even though this little horse was obviously not the right one for their family, the mother could not, would not return him to the home where his abuse was perpetrated. Instead she kept him for nearly three years and sheltered him as her own, daily leading him down the path of kindness, trust, and love. All the while, she knew that this special tiny gelding had come into her life for a reason, for a purpose as yet … unknown.
The generous mother of two inadvertently became the mother of three. Within the years the little horse was in her company, she lived such an example of love and compassion that his life was changed forever because of it. The gelding’s fright was replaced by peace, his nervousness by calm, his fear of being touched by loving to be touched. She had built the bridge … and he chose to cross it.
The gentle mother, realizing that her adopted “son” was now ready for his born destiny, called our ranch for advice about perhaps placing him with us or a trusted family.
“And that’s not even the amazing part of the story,” Chris beamed. “You have to see this,” she continued, as she nearly led me by the hand into the bunkhouse toward the computer. Within a large stack, she quickly located a printed e-mail with a picture. Turning around, she held it up at head-level, not far from my face, and said, “Who does this look like?”
Leaning toward the picture, I squinted as I absently took it from her hand. Oh Dear Lord … what are You doing to my heart? I could feel my eyes beginning to flood as the picture came into sharp focus. The best I could do was raise my hand over my mouth for a moment and wait for my throat to relax. I looked up at Chris and quietly stated what she already knew was true.
“He looks like … Shonee.”
Other than a few minor differences, the small gelding in the picture looked like a male version of our Shonee. Certainly, he could easily pass for her little brother. He was a white Pony of America … covered in little black spots. His name was Gideon. “The little horse that could,” I thought to myself.
As usual, my heart ran far ahead of my brain, immediately making plans of how we could move him to the ranch. Whoa, girl, began to rise out of what was left of my reason. The ranch is full … there is no space available for him to come. In what was starting to feel like a “slug fest,” my heart countered back with my personal “poster child” of truth: “Yeah, but you know that if God is in it … He will provide for it!”
For an adult with dyslexic and ADHD tendencies, it is not uncommon for me to feel pulled apart by internal conversations. Okay, okay: Heart and head … go to your separate corners! Truth has spoken. If it is God’s wish that Gideon comes to the ranch … a space will become available for him. It is not wise to rush headlong into what we think we want; allow God’s wisdom to prove what is true. Head … do you agree? “Yes.” Heart … do you agree? “Yup.” All right then, now let’s get back on the tracks and start pulling together … With my mini-uprising put down, it was time to rest in what I knew was always true.
I had kept Lynai, Sarah’s mother, current on all the recent possibilities. Only days later she shared with me through an e-mail a very poignant conversation that she had just had with her little girl:
“Kim, since you told me about Gideon, I have been talking to God about Sarah’s heart and her acceptance of him. This morning Sarah cuddled up beside me and asked if I thought she could ever love a horse again. ‘Absolutely! We don’t just love one person, we love many people, each held in a special place in our hearts.’ Sarah thought about that for a moment before she quietly said, ‘Momma, I think that I’m ready to love a horse again … but not just any horse … I need a horse with spots … like Shonee … that way her memory will always be with me. Are there any other horses like her? Do you think that Kim will ever find another like my Shonee?”
As it is within the heart of a father … truly, the very foundations of heaven must quake with adoration … when little girls pray.
A week and a half later … a space became available … Gideon was on his way.
It was only days before Christmas, and the Pacific Northwest was buried beneath a heavy snowfall. For several weeks the temperature barely reached into the low teens. No one anticipated that on the day Gideon was scheduled to arrive, the area would be overwhelme
d by a “Pineapple Express”—unusually warm, tropical winds would be suddenly diverted into the region on a radically shifted jet stream. The ensuing meltdown, combined with freezing rain, caused some of the worst travel conditions in recent history. The roads were so treacherous that travel of any kind, even a short distance, was unwise. In such perilous conditions, to try and imagine traveling several hundred miles while pulling a horse trailer was out of the question. Gideon would have to wait for another day, perhaps even another season.
The following morning dawned with even warmer temperatures. Instead of bundling up for five-degree weather, I was shedding layers for forty-five degrees and climbing! In the few hours it took me to drive to town, work out with a friend, and drive home, the roads were not only breaking up nicely, they were becoming downright drivable.
While rounding the last bend in the road before the ranch, I noticed a truck and trailer pull into the driveway just ahead of me. You’ve got to be kidding! I thought, as my mouth fell open. Yesterday I could barely walk on the ranch, never mind driving a few hundred miles to reach it. I was completely incredulous as I realized that little Gideon had arrived.
After excited introductions and a hasty call to Lynai, a wonderful chain reaction was now unfolding. Gideon was here, he was kind and far more beautiful than any photograph could have ever captured … and little Sarah was on her way.
My new friends who brought Gideon to us assured me that nearly their entire trip down was on dry pavement. The weather on the west side of the Cascade Divide had been much warmer for much longer. Apparently, only the last thirty miles were a bit tenuous. I was greatly relieved to hear that they did not imperil themselves or their precious gift. Not wishing to drive over the pass during the evening freeze, my friends wisely chose to head back over the mountains while the sun was at its highest. After many hugs and a few tears, they waved good-bye and left nearly as quickly as they came.
I had not yet turned around to walk up the driveway when Lynai and Sarah arrived. “Hey, little cowgirl!” I hailed to Sarah as she rounded the back of their car and hugged me tightly. “I am so glad that you are here. This little horse really needs you,” I continued. Sarah’s mouth was smiling, but her eyes were questioning. We both looked at Lynai. “She doesn’t know anything,” she said with a broad grin.
“Hmmm …” I bent down until I was resting my hands on the top of my knees, nearly eye to eye with my small friend. In my mind, it was vitally important that she understand why I had invited her to come to the ranch. “Sarah, do you remember when we sat on the fence together and I shared with you how incredibly special your love is? How much it changes those you share it with?”
Immediately she recognized by my posture that this was a significant moment. Her uniquely magnified eyes were as large as quarters as she blinked up at me. Her mouth parted open, but instead of using words, she nodded somberly.
I continued. “A horse has just come to the ranch. He is a very extraordinary, small gelding who has traveled from far away to this new home. Sometimes that is scary. Being afraid is not what we wish for anyone on the ranch … that’s why you are here … I need your special love to help this little horse know that there is no need for him to be afraid because he is not alone … he’s going to be okay … he’s going to be loved. Do you think you can help me with that?”
Once again, with the innocence of a child, she nodded her head and added a little “Uh-huh.”
That very attitude is one of the things I love most about kids. “Hey, little kid, do you want to help save the world?” “Sure!” Because they don’t doubt that they can … they just do!
Hand in hand, we walked up the long driveway that leads to the ranch common yard. Gideon was in paddock number one, which is directly behind the barn. She could not see him as we walked toward his paddock. It wasn’t until we walked all the way into his corral that she saw a white pony with a long white mane and tail, standing in deep white snow. Truly, all that was missing was the shaft of light from heaven. There he stood, looking very much like a four-legged angel.
Sarah was struck silent.
I opened the gate for both Sarah and her mom to pass through. Arm in arm, mother and daughter walked on together. As they drew near to Gideon, Sarah turned her face into her mother’s side. Without a sound … she began to cry.
I walked ahead and began to rub the small horse’s neck. I looked back at Sarah. I could only imagine what was happening inside her heart. Finally, I simply nodded my head toward Gideon, indicating that I wanted her to come and join me.
She approached him very slowly, wordlessly, as if he was a dream.
I watched as only the tips of her fingers made hesitant contact with his white winter coat. Instead of vanishing, he turned slightly to look at her … and she looked back. I moved to the opposite side of Gideon so they could clearly see each other.
Sarah allowed her finger tips to spread slowly apart until the palm of her hand was resting flat against his back. Then she raised her other hand and repeated nearly the same process. Completely lost in her own thoughts, she silently began to run her hands over his back, neck, and face. Mesmerized, her expression revealed that all creation had slipped away … there was left only a little blond girl … loving a little horse with spots.
After a moment, I returned with a halter. Together, we led Gideon through the rapidly melting snow toward the hitching post for his first grooming session at the ranch. His exceptionally heavy mane and tail, proof of his pony heritage, were tinged a vague reddish color, evidence of a life lived on clay. Sarah and I agreed that if it was a little warmer, we would have soapy buckets out in no time, restoring his glory to a shiny white. We both laughed at how the black hair that made up his spots, for some unknown reason, stood straight up. Therefore, his black spots were slightly raised above his white body, making him look like a giant domino … in reverse.
Lynai was well-prepared and brought a large bag of carrots. Any uncertainty Gideon might have had about being in a new home was quickly overwhelmed by his passion for snacks. In no time his mouth was so full that the excess carrot juice combined with his saliva to make a brilliant orange foam. There was so much froth that the surplus drooled out of his mouth and onto the snow beneath him.
I glanced at Sarah. She looked happy.
Gideon, still chewing away, held his head low, his eyes half-mast. He was happy too.
With the evening feeding complete and Gideon settled back in his temporary corral, I returned from putting a few feed pans away to find Sarah sitting on the rail fence about ten feet from our new pony’s head. Even though he was casually munching hay, they were positioned face to face. She was sitting very still … just watching him … only him. I quietly joined her mother who was sitting on a separate section of fencing about thirty yards away.
Like a sentry waiting for dawn, Sarah watched in complete silence for more than twenty minutes … nearly a lifetime for a kid. In the stillness, I could only wonder … and trust … that her heart was being visited by resolution, restoration, and rekindling.
My mind drifted toward the truth that no horse can ever replace another. I began to wonder if this whole event was just a bit too overwhelming for Sarah. Was it too much, or too soon, to encourage her forward out of her grief? Perhaps what initially seemed like such a good idea really wasn’t; it was only my hope to ease her sadness.
My thoughts were cut short as Sarah began to move.
She slipped off the railing. As hushed and slow as the moon travels across the sky, she silently moved to his side. Standing with her back toward us, I could see she was resting her right hand on his withers while rubbing his neck with her left. Gradually her right elbow crossed over his back as she leaned against him. Slowly her small neck begin to flag as her head lowered until it rested on top of Gideon’s neck.
Afternoon shadows were getting longer. As the sun was sinking … a heart was rising.
Sarah’s hands were imitating the sun and moon—one was going do
wn and the other was going up. One hand reached over Gideon’s neck while one hand reached under. Meeting somewhere on the other side, they came together to complete the circle … a circle that looked very much like an embrace … the kind saved only for deep, dear friends.
Joining the retiring sun as a witness, I watched Sarah’s embrace linger for long moments.
When it seemed appropriate, I left my perch on the fence and quietly filled the vacancy that she had just left. Now, only a few feet away from Sarah and her new friend, I smiled at her … and she smiled back.
“What do you think?” I asked as long shadows began to combine.
“He’s really nice,” she said through a small grin.
Apparently, only after Sarah felt that Gideon had been thoroughly loved, she joined me back on the fence. Being the snuggle-bug that she is, with practiced proficiency she nestled in under my arm.
Although I’m not sure why, I find that watching horses graze is one of the most peaceful things a weary soul can do at the end of the day. Perhaps this is because it embodies pure contentment … in the simplicity of life.
Looking down at Sarah, I wanted to validate what I thought she might be thinking. I asked, “Do you think that God answers prayers?”
She looked up at me with a bit of confusion over my random question before answering with a simple “Uh-huh.”
I continued, “Do you think that God has answered your prayers?”
A little light went on somewhere inside and twinkled out through her eyes as she responded with a big nod and an even bigger “Uh-huh!” True to her prayers … he was a horse with spots.
“Sarah …” she looked back into my face. “Even though he looks like your Shonee Girl … he will never be Shonee. He will be special in a different way … he will be Gideon. Your mom was right, we don’t just love one horse or one person. Our hearts have the capacity to hold lots of love … enough to love many people and many horses. When we lose someone we love, things will never be the same … they will be different. But different doesn’t mean bad … it just means that our love has the opportunity to be poured out in another direction. Our love only goes where we choose it to … so we have to choose for our love to go forward … otherwise it gets stuck. And then special love isn’t special anymore.”
