The wonderful news is that if I miss God’s call to action, He, through His great grace and mercy, is willing to restore me as soon as I repent for not listening and then choose to walk with Him. Even if I willfully disobey Him, God is still willing to restore me when I repent, although I may suffer some consequences for not heeding Him.
In the long run, obedience is easier and much more fun than getting all wet.
Lord, when I’m tempted to ignore Your commands, please remind me that what You’re asking isn’t just about me. It’s also about serving others in Your name. Amen.
• Thoughts to Ponder •
Has God asked you to do something, and you immediately ran the other way or ignored His command in another form? How did that work for you? Would you like to get in right standing with God? Simply ask Him to forgive you and guide you in the way He wants you to go.
6
IMPOSSIBLE PRAYER
Childlike Faith
The yellow, four-door, 1977 Chevy pickup belched smoke as it rattled into the driveway. The driver’s door creaked as Lou pushed it open and unwound his six-foot frame to step out. He was looking forward to a few minutes to unwind and play with the kids before he began studying. Opening the front door, he could hear the children’s laughter down the hall. After greeting his wife, he stretched out in his leather recliner and thought about how the last few months had been a blur.
God had put a call on Lou’s life to become a minister, so he’d quit his well-paying job and enrolled in Bible college. He and his wife sold their beautiful home and, with their four children (ranging in ages from 6 to 12 years old), moved into a cookie-cutter-type house. Going to school and working a low-paying job tightened the purse strings. Sometimes there was more month than money.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lou noticed Liana, his eight-year-old daughter, briskly walking toward him like an attorney on an important case. Her jaw was set, making the dimples in her cheeks deeper. Lou knew there was an interrogation coming. Although amused, he kept a straight face. “What’s up?” he asked.
With one hand behind her back obviously holding something, she framed her words. “Remember the discussion we had about the pony?”
Lou nodded even as “Oh oh” flashed through his mind.
Liana recounted the conversation and then presented her evidence. From behind her back she held out a piece of lilac-colored construction paper. Stars drawn with red-colored pencils adorned the corners. Unicorns galloped around the edges. In the center was a carefully trimmed newspaper ad. Her eyes twinkled. “I found a Shetland pony for sale.” She handed it to her dad.
Lou hesitated as he glanced at it.
Liana squirmed.
Finally Lou broke the silence. “How much are they asking?”
Liana announced, “Two hundred dollars.”
Lou shook his head. “That’s way beyond our price range. Remember, we agreed to spend $125.”
Pursing her dainty lips, she wielded the words he’d often used on her. “What do we have to lose by asking if they’ll take $125?”
The pony dream had started in Liana’s Sunday school class with a teaching on prayer, faith, and believing. After passing out white index cards and pencils, the teacher asked the children to write a prayer on something close to their hearts. She told them to take the cards home and believe that God would answer their prayers. Liana asked God to give her a pony.
When Lou came across the index card, he thought, This is an impossible prayer. It’s impossible because I’ve got four kids to feed, school to pay for, and a job that doesn’t bring in enough money as it is. The list of horse-related expenses would be endless too: saddle, bridle, blanket, halter, lead rope, hay, and a horse trailer. And where would we put a pony?
But the simplicity and innocence of Liana’s prayer inspired him to show his wife. After praying they agreed on a plan. Gathering their four children around the dining room table, Lou and Sue shared that they were considering getting a pony. Amid all the excitement, Lou set down the conditions. “The most we can spend is $125.”
In unison the children groaned. “But, Dad…”
Even the children knew that buying a pony for $125 in Southern California was a difficult task. Lou was adamant. “If it’s God’s will that we get a pony, He will have to be the One to make it happen.” Lou closed the discussion with, “If you find a pony for that price, we’ll go out and take a look at it.” He didn’t think it would happen.
Then Lou noticed Liana had taken an interest in reading the newspaper. In May she’d found this ad.
Lou held the lilac construction paper. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. After introducing himself, he explained, “I had to make this call because of my daughter’s prayer. Do you mind if my wife and I come out and look at your pony for sale?”
The yellow pickup wheezed up the hill through the gated community. Lou chuckled as he shifted gears. We must look like Ma and Pa Kettle, he thought. Mansions were perched on 10-acre ranchettes. When Lou and Sue pulled into the driveway at the address given, they were greeted by a charming older couple who looked like Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus. They were even plump, sported rosy cheeks, and had twinkles in their eyes.
They explained their grandchildren had outgrown this cherished pony, and now they were moving. They wanted the pony to have a family with children who would love him.
Strolling behind the barn to the back acreage, Lou and Sue glimpsed a very short palomino pony. Its long, cream-colored mane nearly buried its dark-brown eyes. Because Sue had grown up with horses, she gave Taffy the “kid-proof test.” She rubbed Taffy’s fuzzy coat all over, walked behind her, lifted her hooves, and even crawled under her belly.
Lou’s mind whirled with “Cha-ching, cha-ching” as he thought of how much money a cash register would swallow when it came to buying tack and supplies.
After Sue nodded her approval, Lou confidently stepped forward and made the offer he knew they wouldn’t accept. “How about $125?”
The couple shared that they’d had other people who had wanted to buy this pony. They’d turned them down because it hadn’t seemed right. But it felt right to sell the pony to them. They accepted the offer.
Shocked, Lou stammered, “I–I…w–we don’t have a place to keep her. Would it be okay if she stays here until I find a suitable pasture?”
The couple nodded. “She also comes with a halter, a bridle, grooming brushes, a saddle, and three bales of hay,” the husband added.
A committee of four children lined up in the living room when Lou and Sue arrived home.
Trying to keep a straight face, Lou asked, “Guess what?”
The kids tried to remain quiet.
Lou smiled. “You guys own a pony!”
The children erupted with joy and cheers and hugs abounded.
The next day Lou and Sue took the kids out to see their new pony.
When Liana wrapped her arms around Taffy’s neck and buried her face in its fur, it was love at first sight…It was a match made in heaven.
Liana’s faith is what Jesus is looking for in us. Jesus shared His heart when He taught, “Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15).
Oftentimes I make faith too complex. If God wants us to be like children, He doesn’t expect us to have all the answers or be “qualified” to approach Him. He wants us to come to Him with childlike wonder and expectant hearts because we believe what He says.
Liana’s faith didn’t just result in the family getting Taffy. Another miracle took place. While still on a tight budget, Lou and Sue managed to purchase 20 acres of land that included a makeshift barn and a pond. They put a small mobile home on it to live in, and they rented a U-Haul horse trailer to transport Taffy to her new home.
When Lou shared this story with me, he also handed me the “why” for the ability to purchase the land. It was an aged index card with a child’s cursive writing on it: “I will pray f
or my family to get 20 acres of land and for us to be able to rent a horse trailer for Taffy.”
God answered another “impossible” prayer by eight-year-old Liana.
Lord, when I come before You, remind me to leave the complexities of life behind and speak from my heart with the trusting faith of a child who loves You. Amen.
• Thoughts to Ponder •
Have you felt uneasy about praying because you feel you’re not trained or qualified to talk directly to God? Is it hard to believe that He will listen to and answer your prayers? What does God’s Word say about that?
7
A GOOD ROPE FOR ROUGH COUNTRY
Being Prepared
The soft plodding of the horses’ hooves hitting packed clay hung in the warm, spring air. Twelve-year-olds Hillari and Laurie rode their horses on the hardpan trail along the banks of the Santa Ana River in Riverside County, California. Scrubby, six-foot-tall creosote bushes adorned with olive-green leaves on twisted gray stems dotted the landscape seemingly all the way to the distant mountains. The meager spring rains had passed, leaving behind tufts of green grass and the sweet-smelling leaves on the cottonwoods. The girls were headed home after a peaceful Saturday trail ride through the citrus groves.
Riding in the lead on her bay mare, Hillari wondered if they should take the cut-off trail home. It wound down a cut in the riverbank, across the riverbed, and up the bank on the other side. It was a trail they liked to take. She glanced at the wide and dry expanse. Months ago, during the winter and early spring rains, the river had raged. The water had risen quickly, cut into the steep banks, and washed away trees. It had eventually receded, leaving behind gravel and sandbars littered with branches and dead trees and occasional pools of standing water.
Hillari’s body swayed with the rhythm of her horse’s walk as she analyzed the trail. Fresh motorcycle tracks scored the path. It must be safe to cross if the motorcycle riders are using it, she thought. Turning in the saddle, she caught Laurie’s attention, motioned toward the riverbed, and shouted, “The motorcycles are using it. What do you think?”
Laurie’s stout buckskin gelding strode forward as his rider surveyed the trail. She nodded.
Hillari and Laurie had been riding together since they were five years old. Even though Laurie was an olive-skinned brunette and Hillari was a fair-complected blond, people thought the two tall, slim gals with waist-length, straight hair were sisters. The girls felt like they were sisters. They’d ridden together so much they could read each other’s minds and complete each other’s sentences. Their favorite thing to do was to pretend they were two cowgirl pioneers out on an adventure. Although they wore T-shirts and jeans, they looked the part of pioneers—sitting tall in their western saddles, their lariats coiled and tied onto the pommels of their saddles. They’d started carrying the lariats after an old cowboy had given one to Hillari, along with these words of wisdom: “A smart rider never rides through rough country without a good rope.”
Hillari reined Farrih toward the riverbed. Bred to have the intelligence and endurance of an Arabian and the size and athleticism of a thoroughbred, the Anglo-Arabian mare gracefully headed down the slope. Shifting her weight to her hind legs, she half-shuffled, half-skidded down to the riverbed.
Laurie’s buckskin gelding ambled behind. The sandy path wound through the river bottom. Halfway across the wide, dry riverbed a long, scrubby cottonwood branch blocked the trail. The skeletal arms of a gnarled limb stood too high to comfortably step the horses over without scratching their bellies. Without slowing, Hillari gently pressed her leg against Farrih, asking her to step to one side. Willingly the mare moved onto the sand about four feet off the trail.
Suddenly the mare pitched forward.
Hillari grabbed the reins. What’s going on? The mare’s front legs had sunk to her knees, followed by her hind legs. She snorted and half jumped trying to get out of the mire.
Hillari centered her weight to help the mare stay balanced. She firmly pressed a rein against her horse’s neck, hoping to guide the mare to firmer footing. The girl’s heart pounded as her mind flashed through scenes of movies that involved quicksand. Quicksand! That’s it! Farrih had broken through the top crust of dried sand and sunk into a thick quagmire.
The mare lunged again. She broke through another top layer and sank nearly to her belly. Terrified, she swung her head, her eyes wide with panic.
Hillari gasped as her mind raced. What do I do now? I’ve got to get my weight off Farrih so she doesn’t break through another layer. Will the crust hold my weight? She looked at the broken edges of the sand. She might be able to stand on the top. If not, it looked thick enough to support her weight if she spread it out by crawling on her hands and knees.
The mare’s nostrils blew snorts of alarm. Sweat dribbled behind her ears and down her neck. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to lunge again.
Hillari had only a fraction of a second to act. Stroking Farrih’s neck, she forced her voice to be calm. “Easy there.” Quickly she swung a leg over the saddle.
The mare’s gaze darted back at her, watching her.
Hillari gently but firmly commanded, “Whoa now.” Balancing on her stomach on the saddle, she slid down and tested the firmness of the sand with her boots. It held. She lowered herself all the way to the ground. It’s only four feet back to the trail, and we’ll be on solid ground, she reassured herself. Clinging to the reins, she held her arms out to her sides for balance. She slowly shuffled, taking one step and then another.
The bay mare’s eyes were bulging and her nostrils gaped for air. Struggling to follow, she threw her weight forward.
Hillari turned and looked into her horse’s large, brown eyes. Reaching out she stroked the mare’s face as she commanded, “Whoa, girl. Easy now. We’ll get you out.”
The mare froze in place, but her anxiety was clear to see.
Hillari glanced sideways at Laurie, who sat wide-eyed astride her horse, now about 12 feet in front of Farrih. “Stay on the path!”
Farrih’s labored breathing reverberated over the sand.
Hillari’s mind whirled. How much time do we have before Farrih thrashes through another layer and sinks out of sight? She sorted through the facts. There weren’t any homes or buisinesses close enough to get help fast enough. If Farrih kept struggling, she’d overheat, go into shock, or sink more. Whatever was going to be done needed to happen now and by them.
Laurie called, “What can I do?”
Hillari slid her feet onto solid ground. Taking a deep breath, she continued to reassure her mare as she walked back to Laurie and stood next to the buckskin. The two girls formed a plan. They’d use their lariats to drag the mare out. It was dangerous because she might break her legs, but it was all they had.
Hillari crawled across the top of the sand toward Farrih. Damp sand stuck to her hands with each reach. Laurie’s lariat hung in a coil around her neck. Her blue jeans wicked up water and were becoming heavy.
The mare’s head was low, her chin resting on the crust of sand in front of her. Her eyelids fluttered and her ribcage expanded rapidly as she gasped for air. The horse’s bay coat was spattered with sand. She opened her eyes and spotted Hillari. She plunged forward. Her feet churned but she wasn’t able to get traction.
Hillari was scared. She wanted to shout at Farrih so she would stop moving. The mare could be cutting her tendons to shreds against the rough edges of the sand. Hillari knew if she raised her voice her horse would become even more upset. Choking sobs racked her body as she reached her hand forward and shifted her weight. Doubts assaulted her. What if Farrih lunges and I get pulled underneath her?
Sliding her knee forward another thought crashed through her mind. What if Laurie’s horse gets dragged into the sand with Farrih? Hillari hesitated, carefully balancing her weight as evenly as possible. We can’t do this…I can’t do this. But who else is there? Farrih’s my horse. She’s never let me down, and I can’t let her down. She swallowed hard, gathere
d all her courage, and crawled within three feet of the trapped mare. “Whoa, Farrih. Easy girl,” she crooned.
Grayish-tan sand coated the mare’s neck and sides. Her teardrop-shaped ears twitched as she watched her master. Sweat foamed behind her ears and rolled down her neck.
For an instant, the girl and her horse stared into each other’s eyes. Hillari lowered her voice, gently murmuring, “Easy now, girl. Stand still.”
The mare stilled, almost as if she understood.
Hillari crawled to Farrih’s side and stroked her neck. Lying down and stretching out on her belly, she reached over the saddle and untied her lariat. Quickly she slid the loop end around the saddle horn and pulled it tight. Lifting Laurie’s rope from her neck, she threaded it around the mare’s head while whispering softly, “Easy, girl. I’m going to tie this up.” Nimbly Hillari’s fingers tied a knot that wouldn’t tighten down and choke the mare. Holding the two ropes, she shinnied backward toward solid ground.
Suddenly Farrih’s head jerked up. Beads of sweat stood out on her dainty muzzle. Both ears swiveled hard toward Hillari. The whites of the mare’s eyes showed. The horse’s desperation and fear was unmistakable.
Hillari paused in mid-motion. Her heart pounded in her ears. “Whoa, Farrih. Stand still, girl.”
Their eyes locked. For a moment the world stood still and not a sound was heard. It was as if they were looking into the depths of each other’s hearts. The mare heaved a big sigh and blinked her long, black eyelashes. Muscles throughout her body relaxed.
Laurie’s voice drifted in from the trail. “Wow, she really trusts you.”
Hillari slithered backward, uncoiling the ropes as she went. Once on the trail she handed Laurie the rope attached to the mare’s saddle. They would use Laurie’s buckskin like a tractor to help Farrih get some traction.
Great Horse Stories Page 3
