Tonight's the Night! Miracles happen.
For me, you can't get a much holier place than a barn, with the manger licked clean by animals, and the holy smell of livestock and their feed.
Christ was born in a barn. You have to love him.
Merry Christmas if you believe, and may you still experience miracles and happiness even if you don't.
I have so much to be thankful for that I don't know where to start. A husband who's supportive and encouraging of our horse habit, a daughter who'd rather be at the barn than at the mall and two great horses who are mostly willing and certainly able.
I also have a truck and trailer. Now, you will not envy me on this. Even if you don't have a truck and trailer, you will not envy me. But that truck and trailer mean that we can go to nearby farms. And that makes all the difference.
"Ben," the truck (he came named -- "Ben" for Sub-ur-BEN) can qualify for S.C. antique license plates next year. Or maybe he's already qualified. The people who had him loved him and took excellent care of him. They had a book where they kept track of every tank of gas he ever drank and every repair ever made. The lady drew a sad face with tears and wrote "Goodbye Ben, We Love You!" on the last page of this book before selling him to us. His interior was re-done before we got him. (After a while you get used to calling your truck a "him.") He does have a drinking problem, though. Heaven help us. I might sometimes get over 60 mpg on my Prius, but I more than make up for it with Ben.
The trailer I own with my niece. It needs re-painting. I touched up the rusting spots with Rustoleum, which makes it look even worse. One day we will paint it. Surely we will.
Anyway, Ben has lots of personality and Tim, my mechanic, says, "That's a great truck." It is. It's even kind of fun to drive. No problem finding it in a parking lot, either.
But I have to say when I pull up besides people's fancy trucks and SUVs and trailers with dressing rooms and awnings and potted flowers, I do feel like country come to town. Actually, there's another term I'd use but I won't.
Other people's trucks and trailers might be painted to match. Ben and my trailer have rust spots to match.
We're lucky to have nice horses, tack, boots and lessons. I like to think of it that we're just being environmentally friendly by using a truck and trailer others would have passed on.... The most environmentally friendly thing you can do is to use things as long as possible, right? No landfill and all that? (There is Ben's drinking problem, but I can't help that.) I could have bought something other than the Prius that would pull a trailer, but I decided on the Prius because I don't pull the trailer but once a week, but I drive the Prius everywhere every day.
Anyway. Ben's got a lot of personality for a truck. He came with lots of stickers on him and a front license plate that says "U.S. Army Retired." I left everything as it was. The stickers might be holding him together! I'm really glad the people weren't NASCAR fans or I'm sure he'd have an "8" and a "3" on him. For some reason, the sticker that said, "My daughter is in the U.S. Navy" just drove Lily over the edge, so I let her cover that sticker and another one. I am not one to put bumper stickers on cars (my Prius has none), but if somebody else has started it, well.... See for yourself.
I live in fear that Ben is going to leave us on the side of the road one day. I guess when that happens we'll unload the horses and ride on home.
Ben, you're an old, old man, but I'm still thankful to have you, even if I am afraid to drive you very far.
Today is the Carnival of Christian Writers, and I'm honored to be included. Click here for some inspiring and helpful words from working Christian writers.
This weekend we're going to the third in a series of Open Shows. This is Lily's first time chasing points, but I don't think that's all that's fueling her excitement. It's a fun, informal show where the competitors encourage each other and the judge will take the time to help a child who isn't fully understanding something. In other words, it's not The Big Time, but it is A Big Time.
Last time we went Buddy was so "overjoyed" to be there that I had to get on him in the warm-up. But he settled in and they ended up doing very well.
Lily spent the weekend grooming him. She gave him a bath on Saturday, Showsheened him and walked him around until he was dry. So of course the minute she let him go, he rolled. We're hoping the Showsheen acts like teflon.
I didn't realize until this morning just how detailed her planning is for the show. Here's the dry-erase board in her room (click to make big enough to see): 
There is one little thing that really touched me. Last night we watched the movie, "Facing the Giants," which is a little cheesy and amateurish, but was still very touching and inspirational. I didn't realize how close she was paying attention. Look at what she wrote on the very top of this horse show planning chart (click to make big enough to see)
:
If you haven't seen the movie, one of the themes is that it's not about winning, it's about giving God your absolute best in everything you undertake. You praise God if you win, you praise God if you lose. But whichever way it goes, you give it your absolute best.
I can't think of a better way to prepare your mind and spirit for a competition. Maybe keeping horses is worth it after all....
(This is the same post I've put up on Lifepundit.net. Sorry for the repeat, and no doubt everything has been said already about 9/11, but I haven't told my version so I'm taking my turn now. Please indulge.)
It's easier to mark Princess Diana's death than to once again revisit 9/11, the very date itself an emergency phone call. That's because she's gone and mourned (a little puzzling, all that mourning), but 9/11 is the day the world changed, and for that, it is still with us.
Where were you? Of course you'll never forget.
I was at the gym, riding a bike next to an old friend from high school. We had just dropped our kids off at the school we had attended. My old friend is a pilot who now trains new pilots for a major airline. He also flew F-16s in Gulf War I. We were talking about nothing when we saw all the TVs stop their programming and switch to live coverage of the first smoking tower.
My friend tried to think of how this could be, an aircraft hitting one of the towers. "It's a clear day," he said. "Even on heavily overcast days, you can still see the towers. They reach above the clouds. You can always see the towers."
"Maybe it was engine trouble," I said. That was a stretch and we both knew it.
The news said first it was a small plane, then that theory began to change.
"I hope it's not one of ours," he said. It wasn't one belonging to his airline. But we later realized that all the aircraft that day belonged to all of us.
Then the second plane hit. "Terrorists," we both said. We even knew the name.
I had seen Osama's ugly picture on a bumper sticker not long before, on a country road not far from my house. The driver, a young man, had glared at me with hatred when he saw me studying him. You don't see those bumper stickers any more, though I'm sure the young men are out there still. That's the scary part.
I heard about the Pentagon strike on the radio on the way home from the gym. What would be next?
My sky had fallen the month before. My husband had been laid off, just a few weeks after getting an attaboy and a bonus for some outstanding work he had done. They laid him off before they had to pay him the bonus. He had an interview and a flight booked for 9/13. No flights went out that day. And the company put the job he was seeking on hold.
I was surprised at how silent the skies were on 9/11. We live near a couple of air bases, and F-16s and F-18s are a common sight and sound. On 9/11, I wanted to see them busting open the skies. I wanted to hear their shrieks, left so far behind that sometimes the jets are out of sight before you hear them. I wanted to go outside and yell, Fly Fly Fly! But wherever they were, they were silent. They were not in my sky, keeping watch or waiting.
Since then, I've heard two reasons for this and I don't know which is true. One is that they were not flying because they were fully armed and waiting. They don't go screaming over my pasture and house with real weapons on them. The other reason I've heard was that they were patrolling Atlanta.
The silence everywhere, except for the news. And I wept and cried out to God.
Now I know more. This past week Osama said it would all be over if we would convert to Islam. I have read about Islam a great deal in the past six years, and their god is not God. Theirs is the god of death.
I see this as a great cosmic battle, though I know that we are not entirely good. And not all who fight on our side or from our country are believers. But I know that our God is good, and that God has always used imperfect people. And if, as Jesus says, "By their fruits ye shall know them," I can't say much for people who blow up their own children to kill their enemies, who oppress their women and kill the innocent, as being a religion of peace.
I know that's not PC to say. But if they want me to see them as being peaceful, they'll have to BE peaceful.
I won't claim this is the end of times and that there are signs all around. Jesus already told us we wouldn't know, so why do all those mental contortions to try to figure it out? He did tell us how to live, and that seems a better use of today.
I thank God today that I am free to worship him. I thank God that there has been no other 9/11 on our soil. And I thank and praise God that I know that no matter what happens between now and then, our God will prevail.
Jesus was born in a stable. Not a mall. Don’t let the fact that there were no malls back then keep you from seeing one important truth: you need to get your daughter to a stable and out of the mall, especially as she approaches adolescence.
Just as in Jesus’ day, stables are out of the main action. If you’ve ever been in one at night, you’ll realize they are places of peace and refuge. Maybe that’s why you find so many girls there.
“Girls who ride horses don’t get into trouble,” said one father as he watched his daughter riding a lesson horse on a beautiful spring afternoon. “That’s why we’re here. I even had a judge tell me that. She’s never seen a girl who rode get into trouble.”
If you go to a horse gathering and talk to the parents, you’ll hear most voice the same opinion. Why else would they spend the money, go out in all kinds of weather and be at the barn at painfully early hours of the morning?
Girls who ride horses don’t get into trouble in part because they lack the opportunity. There’s lots of work to be done at a barn. Work that gets you seriously dirty and makes your muscles sore. And girls with a passion for horses don’t usually have the time to have a passion for much else.
I was recently advised to read Queen Bees and Wannabees by Rosalind Wisemen, which tells about the scary world of pre-teen and teenage girls and their social hierarchy. This book shows a more terrifying world than anything Stephen King ever invented. Even girls from good Christian families can be sucked into the cruel behavior of cliques. In most cases, their parents don’t have a clue and the perpetrators see themselves as innocent. Throughout the book the author advised parents to “get your daughter into soccer or horseback riding” as a healthy alternative to middle school drama and angst.
It’s an escape into something more real and more fulfilling. It’s an escape from man’s world into God’s beautiful, natural world.
My 11-year-old daughter showed me a T-shirt that said, “There’s something about the outside of a horse that’s good for the inside of a girl.” (With respects to Churchill, from whose words this was adapted.) And then there was another, “Horses are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” (A variation on something Benjamin Franklin said.)
There is a connection between girls and horses that cannot be put into words. Each horse has his/her own personality and moods. They cannot speak, so your child will have to figure them out. Their speed and power is addictive. A girl may not be able to spread her wings and fly, but she can get pretty close on a horse sailing over a jump.
Pardon me for quoting my daughter, but she is my handiest subject. She says, “Riding is my outlet from stress. Pam Brown said, ‘When we ride a horse, we borrow freedom.’ Sometimes that’s your freedom from stress at school with cliques and mean girls. You may fall off your horse, but they won’t insult you. Horses can make these really mean faces at you – but those make me laugh.
“If you feel tired, you get a fresh spirit,” she says. “It’s fun, you can meet a lot of nice girls and you can have something to love and take care of. With a horse, you have somebody who loves you back no matter what; that is, unless you have a really grumpy one.”
Many parents shy away from horseback riding because of the cost. Horses are big, they eat a lot and they require a lot of room. You can spend a lot – or not.
Where I live you can enroll your daughter in weekly riding lessons for around $100 a month. If she gets more serious, you can lease a horse. Many summer camps have horses that they only use in the summer. The camps are looking for people to lease them during the rest of the year. A lease on a camp horse means that you pay for what it eats and other care, such as hoof trimming and worming, and you have exclusive use of the horse until it goes back to camp. Camp horses are great for beginners because they have seen and done it all. Leases on fancier horses can involve payments to the owner. If you choose pasture board over stall board, you will pay less.
We moved to the country so that we could keep horses on our small acreage and tend to them ourselves. My daughter’s first pony, a one-eyed ancient gentleman, cost $13.00 per month to feed. That’s less than our cats! Bigger horses eat more, so those days are sadly gone.
If money isn’t a concern, you’re fortunate. However, be sure you don’t buy your way out of some of your daughter’s most meaningful experiences. Children who ride “push-button” trained horses miss out on learning how to deal with difficult situations and sometimes contrary equine personalities. If it takes little effort to ride the horse, your daughter may look like a good rider but lack real skill.
And if she competes in horse shows, you’re teaching her that money can be a substitute for hard work and accomplishment. Unfortunately, this lesson would be correct in the horse show world. However, the alternative builds character and better equips girls for life.
And even more important than finding a horse is finding the right instructor. Your daughter will look up to this person, so choose someone with Christian values.
Stables provide a fun and safe place for girls going through the changes of adolescence. My daughter says, “You can’t be in control in your life, but you can be in control of this one thing. You can’t control what other people think or do, but you can somewhat control what this horse is doing.”
As Pam Brown says, riding teaches girls that they can turn “I wish” into “I can.” That’s a great lesson for life, as is the Mexican proverb: “It’s not enough for you to know how to ride; you must also know how to fall.”
Being a part of the natural world and working with horses can bring your daughter one step closer to being the person God created her to be. I’m pretty sure that won’t happen at the mall.
