Great Horse Stories

by Rebecca E. Ondov

  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

  Lou, 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 b
rightened 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.

  Lou’s confidence had melted the first time Kathy handed him a halter and told him to go through the stall and into the paddock to catch a tall, brown-and-white horse. His brows had furrowed. “Alone?” Kathy had nodded. Lou’s heart pounded as he walked through the stall and heard the click of the door closing behind him. It reminded him of when he was a police officer and went into a jail cell with prisoners for the first time. The cell door closing behind him hadn’t been pleasant then either. He broke out in a cold sweat.

  Entering the paddock, he saw the horse. In his mind, the beast seemed to be equivalent to a wild gorilla he’d have to fight bare-handed. He approached the paint, but the mellow horse walked away from him. Lou knew Kathy wasn’t going to rescue him. He finally managed to toss a lead rope over the horse’s neck and bumbled through the haltering process.

  A few days later Lou was standing next to the tall horse. The man’s knees were nearly knocking together.

  “Lou, this is a very gentle horse,” Kathy assured him. “You’ll be okay.”

  The war in Lou’s mind raged. What are you doing! You’re acting crazy! You’re over 60 years old! Why tackle this at all? Then he took a deep breath. I can do this! A familiar saying raced through his mind: The coward and the hero are both the same. They both sense fear. The difference between them is simple. The coward doesn’t face that fear. He walks away. The hero faces his fear and moves forward.

  Stepping into the stirrup, Lou swung his leg over. The saddle groaned as he settled in. Even though Jag stood completely still, Lou felt like he was going to fall off any minute. On cue, Jag stepped forward. Lou wobbled and hung on.

  For the next six months, Lou’s mind argued continually. What are you doing? Roy Rogers and Gene Autry are gone. They don’t have cowboys on TV anymore. Then he’d reassure himself. You’re going to be okay. What is the worst thing that could happen? I could die—but I’m dying anyway.

  Lou’s dream prevailed. Diligently he showed up at the barn for lessons. Through Kathy’s careful guidance, Lou gradually relaxed while brushing Jag before the riding lessons. The horse begged to have the white star on his forehead rubbed, and he loved pilfering treats from Lou’s shirt pockets. Lou started seeing the horse more as a big dog that wanted affection and needed to be guided.

  As the months rolled past and Lou refused to do anything but walk when riding Jag, Kathy intensified training by laying out poles on the ground in different shapes. Lou learned how to guide Jag through zigzags, side passes, and backing up. With each mastered maneuver, the man gained a little confidence.

  A breakthrough came months later in an unexpected way. On a sunny fall day, Lou stood in the arena holding Jag’s reins while waiting for Kathy as she finished instructing some riding students on how to cross a short wooden bridge. The snorts from the horses echoed through the arena as they sidestepped and refused to step onto the bridge.

  As Lou watched, the months of small successes from Kathy’s training suddenly came together in a burst of confidence. A competitive spirit rose up inside of him. I know I can do that! I bet I can do it better than they can! He stepped beside Jag and climbed into the saddle. Gathering the reins, he nudged Jag forward. Without asking Kathy, he guided the paint horse toward the bridge. Methodically the brown-and-white horse trudged up the wooden planks and then clopped down the other side. Lou’s heart soared! He felt like he’d won a gold medal at the Olympics! The training had finally culminated and superseded his fear. He wasn’t afraid of Jag or of Jag being out of control anymore. Lou had become a partner with the horse. The man had persevered in facing his fears until he came through on the other side.

  Lou broke the bondage fear had on him by staring it in the face, creating a plan, taking action, and persevering. He achieved his dream! Kathy’s new nickname for him is “Mario,” as in Mario Andretti. Lou now rides Kathy’s mare Fancy, a world champion western trail horse. Lou races around like she’s a Corvette.

  Although our fears may not be the same as Lou’s, we all have them, especially when we’re challenged to do extraordinary things, such as following the dreams God places in our hearts. Throughout the Bible, God commands us to “fear not.” By trusting God as our active partner, we can stare fear in the face and say, “God is for us, so who can stand against us? We are more than conquerors through Jesus!” (Romans 8:31,37). God will lay out a training plan for us and lead us along the path He wants us to travel.

  When we keep God at our side and stare fear in the face through training, courage will well up inside us and snuff out fear.

  Lord, teach me how to be strong and courageous in You. Amen.

  • Thoughts to Ponder •

  Do you have a heart’s desire that you’ve kept tucked away because of fear? What would courage look like regarding that dream? What plan can you formulate to help you overcome the fear and achieve your dream? What trusted family members or friends can you ask to help you succeed?

  14

  CALLIE’S CHALLENGE

  Determination

  The hot summer wind spun dust into the air. Hundreds of people and horses swarmed the gravel parking lot that surrounded the livestock auction. Callie smoothed her red T-shirt, brushed off her blue jeans, put her foot in the stirrup, and swung into the fancy show saddle. She grasped the lead rope of her other horse and rode toward the outdoor arena. She wanted to warm up both of the dun horses before the auction preview began.

  Her thoughts swirled as she rode down the grassy hill. Her long-term goal was to train horses, and she’d invested years into training the two mares she’d be selling. One she’d raised from a baby. Glancing back at the mare she was leading, she wondered, Am I doing the right thing?

  Over the summer, Callie had been working for a professional horse trainer and riding a three-year-old gelding the trainer had for sale. The sorrel-and-white paint was the most athletic horse she’d ever ridden. Because her next short-term goal was to learn to rope, she’d need an extremely agile and strong horse. This gelding appeared to be perfect. But with the expense of college in the fall and some looming medical bills, she knew there was only one way she could afford to buy the horse named “So What.” She’d need to sell the two horses she currently owned—and get top dollar for them. She’d carefully prepared the mares by grooming them until they glistened, and she’d borrowed a fancy show saddle to help make the mares stand out. She even put her platinum-blond hair into pigtails because one of her friends said, “Maybe some guy will pay you more money because you look cute.”

  The sun rose high in the eastern Montana sky and beat down on Callie as she arrived at the outdoor arena. Horses whinnied; people chattered. The bleachers brimmed with folks, and some cowboys sat on the top rail of the corral fencing. She tied the mare she was leading to the rail and entered the arena on the other. She sat tall in the saddle, her pigtails bouncing, while her horse performed perfectly. Callie’s eyes sparkled when she finished. She hoped the crowd had been watching and noticed how well the horse responded so they’d bid higher.

  After swapping the saddle and bridle to the other mare, Callie led her through the gate. She gathered the reins and put her foot in the stirrup. The saddle creaked as she lifted up and started to swing over. Before her leg reached the other side, the mare dropped her head, hunched up in the middle, and threw herself into a bucking fit. The crowd stilled as the horse went wild, tossing Callie into the dirt like a rag doll. The mare stepped on Callie a few times during the rampage. As suddenly as the horse started, it stopped. Calmly she loped to the other side of the arena and stood still.

  • Callie and So What •

  Humiliated Callie pushed herself to her feet. Sand and hay stuck to her pigtails. Dirt was ground into her jeans and shirt. She assured the people who had rushed to her side that she was okay. As she hobbled across the arena, her back and legs
ached. Great, she thought. Now everyone is going to remember the woman in the red shirt who put on the rodeo act. How embarrassing! I’ve been riding that horse for four years, and she’s never bucked. Who will want to buy her now?

  Although she hurt all over, Callie got back on and rode the horses for the formal preview. Both sold for fair prices, but instead of focusing on that, Callie’s thoughts spiraled downward during the eight-hour drive home. Negative thoughts assaulted her, accusing her of being a rotten trainer and a lousy rider. How can I train horses professionally if I can’t even ride one I’ve trained for years? she wondered. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this type of a life. Worse yet, she’d forgotten to bring registration papers for one of the horses, so the sale wouldn’t be complete until she mailed them.

  The following morning her phone rang. It was the trainer she’d been working with asking how everything went. Callie shared her disappointment.

  The trainer said, “Well, come by tomorrow. You can ride So What.”

  Callie’s countenance lifted, but the next day turned out to be another disaster. The trainer had tossed the fancy show saddle on So What, and Callie lunged him. He responded well, so she climbed aboard and rode him around the outdoor arena. She cued him to lope. The gelding changed gaits perfectly. Suddenly he dropped his head, hunched up in the middle, and bucked. Unprepared, Callie’s body hammered the saddle. All her bruises and sore muscles screamed in pain. After a few hops, she lost a stirrup and fell out of the saddle. With a puff of dirt, she smacked the ground.

  The trainer and Callie looked the equipment over carefully and determined something was uncomfortable on the saddle that caused both horses to buck. Even knowing that, Callie’s confidence had been thoroughly shattered. She was done working with horses. Finished.

  A few days later Callie sat on her bed going through boxes of old papers. She was looking for the one mare’s registration so she could complete the sale. She dug through her old school assignments. The teachers had asked the students to write about subjects that interested them. Callie’s papers had been about raising and training horses.