I Want a Horse... (Oh, Wait!)

Growing up, all I asked for was a horse.

No one can remember exactly how old I was, but I don’t remember a single year that I didn’t ask for one. I know I was young—probably Pierson young (6 or so?)

Recently I had this overwhelming sense of gratitude when I was leading both of my horses, yes, BOTH, out of their pasture. Many of you follow me on social media and therefore, have followed my journey with each boy. Paddy was gifted to me back in April, and Rocco in September. Paddy and I had a coming to Jesus when I fell off of him on Mother’s Day, and I’m still learning how to ride him fluently, not defensively. (When you get practically a Stage 4 Perineum tear, fear is bound to happen, or so I think anyway? Especially when you never fell off of a horse prior to that…….)

But anyway, back to my feeling of gratitude. I managed to halter both boys in their 13 acre pasture, and without letting the other geldings escape through the gate, I walked right in the middle of them as we made our way to the barn. You BOTH are MINE, I thought.

I actually had a lot of people unfollow me on Instagram when I started to post all my horse ‘stories.’ The bigwig influencers tell you that you shouldn’t stress when people unfollow you, because that means they aren’t ‘your people.’ They aren’t part of ‘your tribe,’ and they aren’t passionate about what you are passionate about. Okay, I get that—really, I do! If you don’t really like horses, and you’re sick of clicking past them in my social media posts, it’s super simple to click unfollow. But what it started to feel like was that a lot of women were having a hard time with the fact that I wasn’t passionate about “only” being Mom. I was no longer posting majority kid stories/photos/etc.

I don’t mean that offensively, or… I hope it doesn’t come across that way. I LOVE being Mom. I love my beautiful, feisty baby girl and my athletic and smart son. But the truth is, I didn’t dream about being their mom. I had no idea growing up, all those Christmases that I asked for a horse, that God actually had it in His plan to gift me what He would: two strong, healthy children AND two horses.

How does that happen?

Anyway, throughout the beginning stage of horse ownership, as my numbers on Instagram began to drop, I wondered, “Aren’t moms allowed to dream? Or to have a burning passion outside of their children?” You all know the answer to that question, I know.

YES. Women are allowed to dream, and women should be empowered to pursue their dreams. Who cares if it happens when they are thirty years old, not six? Women should empower OTHER women, period. Right? Here is where I want to add that while my social media began to change quite a bit, I started to come in contact with some new and very incredible women; ones I probably never would have met if I hadn’t started this horse journey. So many direct messaged me on Instagram after my accident, asking if I was okay, offering advice or just to be a listening ear. And through all of my fears and insecurities and anxieties of whether or not Paddy was really destined to be mine, I felt normal. I felt okay. And I felt so grateful!

It has been eight months. Eight sweet, strenuous, anxiety ridden, exhilarating, overwhelming, and joyous filled months. Paddy has since been moved to my trainer’s farm, where he almost immediately calmed down and went back to his ‘normal self.’ (You don’t know what you don’t know will ALWAYS be my motto. How could we have known how significantly environment affects him as a horse? You live and learn, right?) I am so thankful for the time we had when he was just a mile down the road. A couple days before he was trailered away, he was dealing with an extreme abscess creating almost total lameness. I drove over, parked my car, and sat in his stall right beside him as he munched on his hay. I then proceeded to sob my eyes out, apologizing to him that he was moving and I wouldn’t be so nearby anymore. I told him I felt like a failure and I just didn’t know what the future looked like for us anymore. When I stood up to hug him, he wrapped his entire head and neck around my body.

Rocco was introduced to us in September, a week before my daughter’s birthday, how cute is that? I’ll never forget when my trainer told me about him and she said, “He’s Chestnut too…he looks a lot like Paddy.” I felt so hesitant because of that; that was when I was pretty convinced Paddy would need to leave our family permanently and I wasn’t sure I could love another Thoroughbred Chestnut. Then I met him, looked in his eyes, and I said, “Okay! I think he is supposed to be ours.” I’ve so far had three months of loving Rocco and y’all, he is my healer. Legit, Y’all…he does anything asked of him, including being ridden on 25-degree December days, and he has been nothing but patient with me. We even recently won two blue ribbons together at my first show of over twenty years!!! Because of him, I have regained so much confidence and was able to ride Paddy successfully several times since he’s been at the new farm! Oh, and Paddy and Rocco are obsessed with one another. Within MINUTES of Paddy being delivered and being set out to his new pasture, he and Rocco were inseparable.

Sometimes I still can’t believe it. This is my reality. Two. Two giant Thoroughbred boys.

(Good Lord, guys…my husband is going to kill me.)

I have zero clue what the future holds, as usual, but I wanted you to know about this season of gratitude that I am in. There are unknowns, unpredictable worries that come from owning said two horses, and it’s a lot of work. (Ask said husband who may or may not kill me.)

This year for Christmas though, I don’t need to ask for a horse. I don’t need to ask for a saddle (because yes, I eventually used to ask for a saddle in place of a horse, because I thought that may temporarily fill the void I felt. I even got MYSELF a broken and falling apart English saddle from a Goodwill when I was in my late 20’s!!) I have TWO horses. I have two wonderful, incredibly bright and thriving children. And I have a husband who has chosen me for over ten years, even and especially during this new horsemanship journey. (Thank you for not killing me, Frank. I love you more than you know!)

I’m curious, friends…what are things that you used to dream about when you were a child? Did that dream shift? Did it stay the same? Did it come true?

And what today are you feeling grateful for?

Hardworking Man of Faith: My Dad

Thirty years old, yet I still feel like the small little girl that once sat upon your lap. It's funny which memories stick and which slip away, but I'll never forget the way you make me feel, and that's pretty plain and simple: loved. 

I don't honestly remember ever struggling as a kid, in the sense of getting by. As a now working mom and adult, I know that that wasn't the case, but you and Mom always did such a good job of keeping money and finances on the down low--it wasn't something that was publicly talked about, even if there were years you two were unsure. I was the kid who grew up in a gorgeous house, with an indoor pool, a super amazing playhouse, and my friends still talk about all those birthday parties. Those blessings were never a small task...they were made possible because of you. One of the hardest working men I know, if something was broke, you knew how to fix it. That's still the case, after the most recent trip to your house and your grandson busting the backboard of an over-the-door basketball hoop. "Ask Pa Pa if he can fix it," I told him. The next day, that once snapped in half hoop was hanging back over the door, ready for him to hopefully NOT dunk on again :) 

I still think you have all the answers...especially on all car and house related questions. I remember driving away from the car lot with my very first car, that you helped me choose. That silver Dodge Stratus was my most prized possession for many years to come, and when I crashed her into another car freshman year of college, I remember sobbing my eyes out that 'my car was ruined.' You and mom, six hours away, were of course just worried about your daughter--but I loved that car. You two looked online and I was so stubborn about wanting another Stratus. You found a navy blue one and you DROVE it from Michigan to Kentucky, to hand me the new keys, and you flew back home. I remember you left a Sandi Patty tape in the cassette player. That day was such a picture of sacrifice to me (from Mom too, who was home caring for Nathan), and I won't ever forget it.

Nor will I forget the gas money and the "Love you, Myrtle" sticky notes, one of which is tucked inside my Bible. I should probably laminate that soon. The hot horse show days, not once winning a red or blue ribbon, but you still watching and cheering nonetheless. My first dog, Holly Lou, who you drove an hour away to get on Christmas Eve, and helped take care of the rest of her life after I moved away to college. You joke often about not wanting any more animals to care for, and though I'm not sure how my childhood cat is still alive, I know that Minnie adores you as much as I do. I also know that deep down, you really do love them---all of them, including Sean's turtle, Lily, who also refuses to pass on to animal heaven. I think animals are in my blood so strongly from both you and mom. 

Speaking of you and mom. I know the waters have not always been smooth sailing, and you two have both had to make sacrifices and ask for grace from each other, and us kids. But to me, you both are a picture of faith, redemption, and restoration. Your love for one another has surpassed many trials, and I am so thankful that you choose each other. Even and especially when it is hard. She loves you so much, and I know without a doubt that you arms are her safe haven. Your hands are her strength. And you caring, is all she really needs.

Asa once a long time ago, commented on your hands. I'll be honest and say I was caught off guard because growing up with you as my Dad, I think I took them for granted. "Your dads hands show a lifetime of service to your family," he said. "The scars and swollen knuckles, it's all such evidence of providing for all of you." I suppose that makes it all come full circle--the fact that you were able to fix and make anything; all such proof that you have always provided. I never went without, because for you, that was never an option. 

I will forever hold tightly to the memories we have. Dad and daughter breakfast dates, Christmas Eve shopping for mom, random open house viewings, Sunday restaraunt dining, no bake cookies, and our shared love of peanut butter + chocolate anything. I pray that someday, you can slow down and not have to work SO hard...and I also pray that you know how loved you are. 

You, Dad, are a hardworking man of faith. You can make us laugh out loud, and in your arms, there is strength, safety, and never ending love. Happy Father's Day, Dad. 

I love you.