Back In The Saddle Again

One of the richest experiences I had growing up was living on the family’s four acre farm. While it was maybe only two years of my life, I have been blessed with a treasure of memories from that time when I was about seven or eight years old.

One of the new experiences for us on the farm was the opportunity to raise farm animals. As I recall, we had the usual assortment including a cow, chickens, turkeys, a lamb, cats, and an extremely protective farm dog. And what farm would be complete without a horse. Unfortunately, a horse wasn’t within the budget.

I mean cows give milk, chickens can provide you eggs (or sometimes fried chicken), turkeys are great at Thanksgiving and Christmas, a lamb (a 4-H project for my brother Ken) teaches responsibility and then gets sold, cats help keep the rodents down, and a good protective dog is a wealth of security on a farm. A horse on a place as small as ours would only be expensive entertainment.

But then, as things worked out, a Methodist minister in the small Colorado town near our farm needed a place to keep his horse and burro. (For those of you who might not be familiar with burros, they are best described as small donkeys.) The horse was a pregnant Appaloosa mare named “Chili”. The burro was named "Taterbug" and was a good source of company for Chili, and amusement for us as kids.

Chili was a gentle enough horse and we were thrilled to have the opportunity to ride her (although my sister, Jean might remember her a little differently). When I recently asked my dad about how long we had the horse, Dad simply replied, “Long enough for her to throw Jean off and break her arm.” I had forgotten about that, but I hadn’t forgotten being thrown off myself.

Now, this is the way that I remember it, but at my age, memories can be funny things, sometimes. I had remembered it as yet another of the many misadventures that my older brother, Ken, got me into. But my younger brother remembered it as being him that I was with. Regardless, I am sure I was there.

Usually, whenever we rode Chili, the fastest she was willing to take us was a bone-jarring trot. On this particular day, Ken convinced me to ride “double” with him, putting me just behind the saddle hanging onto his waist. The plan was that we were going to get her to gallop--a faster and much smoother ride. On cue, we both began to kick her sides and whoop and hollar encouraging her onward. Chili started out trotting, but we were relentless in pushing her for more.

Then about the time one of us exclaimed, “She galloping!” The other shouted, “No! She’s BUCKING!” And with that, it was over. Both of us found ourselves quickly dispatched into the weeds. Neither one of us suffered major injuries, other than to our pride, and we hurried to the house for comfort from Mom. I know that I was crying and I suspect Ken was too, but I was being very open about it, while Ken was probably trying to keep it in.

Mom checked to make sure we weren’t hurt, then said, “Well, the best thing you can do is go right back out there and get back on her.” Ken disappeared. I tried to get myself back together and quit crying. I was in shock! Go back out there? What, go back out there and see if I can really get hurt this time!?!

Nevertheless, I knew that she was right and that I needed to face my fear. So after several more minutes and a few more tears, I went back out. Chili was in the pasture grazing. I approached her ever so slowly--probably talking softly to her saying something like, “Please don’t kill me!”--and got a hold on her reins. She had calmed down more than I had and allowed me to lead her over to the haystack. I managed to climb up onto the bales of hay and ever so carefully ease myself down onto the saddle.

Then . . . well . . . then nothing. She stood still and I sat still. I made no demands of her--not even the hint of a request. I just sat. I didn’t stay on long, but it was long enough to no longer feel so afraid.

I had fulfilled the instruction that Mom had given me to the letter. (And not one letter more!) I had faced my fear! I was going to live to see another day! Not only that, but I had “bested” my older brother, who remained “disappeared.” It was a good feeling. It was richly satisfying. I had not gone down in defeat--although I did opt for a negotiated truce with Chili and released my dreams of galloping on a pregnant mare!

So, how many of us have fears today that we need to face? I just thought I would try to encourage you to face your fears, and remember as Moses said to Joshua:

“. . . the LORD, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8



Author's Note: Now, in the interest of full disclosure, it could very well be that Ken was not the one that got me into the situation, but rather my younger brother, John, who made the infamous ride with me. But it reads better the other way and leaves me with a little less responsibility for the results when I portray myself as the younger impressionable brother! So I hope you can forgive me (if in fact it was my younger brother) for re-writing history to suit my purposes. After all, I'm not running for office here! I'm just trying to tell a story!

Also of note is that Chili lived through the ordeal as well, and went on to give birth to her colt on one of the coldest days of the year, through a barbed-wire fence! Yep, when she had fully delivered the colt, she was on one side of the fence and the colt was on the other. Other than a few scratches, both were fine.

Starting Out Strong . . . Once Again.

Here we are approaching the end of yet another month. October is nearly gone and I have done less writing on my blog, than in any other month since I started it. I am saddened by that fact and this is why.

When I first started my blog, I looked at many other blogs for ideas. What I found time after time was that many people started out strong, but didn’t last long. I vowed that it wouldn’t happen to me. I was determined to write every week, and maybe even two or three times a week. I started out strong.

What happened? Interference. Like doing anything that is worthwhile, there were opposing forces trying to make sure that I was not able to do what I set out to do. Sometimes it was just busyness, sometimes it was personal conflicts, sometimes it was challenges at work, sometimes it was impending national issues or even global problems that pulled at my attention. Mostly, I just didn’t know what to write because I hadn't taken the time to get quiet and listen. It is all too easy to just get a little overwhelmed at times.

“ ‘So, now what? Whatcha-gonna-do-now?’ ” --to borrow a quote from my second posting.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I am going to step out in FAITH. . . and write.”--once again.

And maybe I won’t have any earth shattering revelation to share with you this time and I may not even have something big for you the next time that I write. But I will continue to write because I know that this is what I’m supposed to do. I just have to get up and take another run at it.

I mean who says you can’t start out strong more than once?

Losing Sight of What's in Your Toy Box

An associate from work reminded me of something that I had not thought of recently. As part of my weekly routine, I print and distribute full work schedules to each individual employee in addition to the “store copy“ of the schedule which gets posted in the backroom of our store. I think of these individual copies as “refrigerator copies,” because my intent is for each associate to have a copy at home to refer to since their work schedules vary from week to week.

Not only do the copies provide them with a view of their own schedule, it also allows them to see everyone’s schedule for the week. This becomes very useful when an associate needs to make an unexpected change after the schedule has been posted, as sometimes happens. Typically, my associates will take the initiative to work out a “fix” between themselves, to insure that the schedule is covered, by seeing who can fill in for them. Once they have it worked out, they then approach me for approval of the plan. (In case you didn’t recognize it, that’s called Teamwork! And, yes, I am very blessed to have a wonderful team of individuals working with me!)

The other day while I was distributing next week’s schedule, one of my associates said that she didn’t need her schedule, because her schedule doesn’t change very much from one week to the next. Since I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to have a little fun, I pretended to be highly offended and even went as far as to white-out her name on her copy and make it the “store copy.” Upon realizing what I was doing she changed her mind and began to plead with me that she needed her copy so she could see who she was working with. I assured her it was too late now, and threw in a little mocking of her saying that she didn’t need her schedule. She became so desperate to have a copy that when I wasn’t looking, she took my own copy, crossed out my name and put her name on it!

Now, understand that this was all done in fun. But it did cause me to consider how often we take for granted things that we have, until we see them being taken away from us. We are just like a little kid, who’s mom is going through his toy box getting rid of long forgotten toys. He stands there looking at her in disbelief because he can’t believe that his mom would be asking him to part with such a treasured item! How quickly we lose sight of how blessed we are until those blessings are being pulled from us.

So, today, do your best to not take for granted that you are loved, sheltered, fed and clothed. Or that you live in a country where you get to decided much of your path, rather than having it decided for you. And just take some time to do an inventory of what you do have, rather than always looking at what you do not have. I’m sure you’ll come away feeling very blessed. I know I do, already!