On Foreign Ground

We have seen many people come through our doors with many different problems, and just when you think you’ve seen it all….

“We have a child that we would like to bring to the ranch,” says the voice of the woman on the other end of the line. “We met him in Romania where we work with the orphans.  He is not an orphan, but it may be better if he was.”

“You have my attention.” I say.  I know a little of what the Romanian idea of an orphanage is.  For that statement to be made is utterly shocking.

“You see,” she continues.  “He was returned to his mother after being found on the street. And she, in a drunken rage, attacked him with an axe.”

“Excuse me.”  I say.  “Did you say an axe?”

“Yes,” she says.  “He has been sponsored to come here for facial reconstructive surgery.  After he has finished, we would like to bring him to the ranch before he has to go back to Romania.”

Wow!  I am still in shock over the description, which caught me completely off guard.  I knew it would be bad, but an axe!  ‘Dear God, how does a mother come to that place? I can’t imagine.  Help me to know what to say and do. I’m on foreign ground here.’ 

“Of course he can come, bring him out.”

And that is how we met Nicu.  The olive skin, black hair and eyes were what I had pictured. The scar from above the left eye making a droopy arc through his mouth to the right side of his chin, I had not.  We go through some basic horsemanship stuff.  Its sketchy at best, due to the fact that Nicu speaks no English, and I speak no Romanian. We rely on translators who are trying to come up with Romanian words that describe an old western saddle, latigo, cinch, bridle and other parts. 

And the fact that Nicu isn’t listening one hundred percent. He keeps staring at the man with the funny hat that he believed existed only in legends, this “cowboy”. 

Nicu on Comanche, Sadie on Sunny and Scott

Nicu on Comanche, Sadie on Sunny and Scott

I found Nicu to be a quick study as far as riding.  He sat well, had good control and was doing so well that he earned a ride off lead.  As I unclasped the lead rope of the horse, I whispered to Comanche, one of our perfect horses, “Take care of him, he needs this”  and let go.  He walked around to the right.  Completely relaxed.  I see the legs squeeze and the walk becomes a trot.  His concentration has narrowed to where he is staring at the spot between Comanche’s ears.  He rounds the far corner of the arena and Comanche loses her perfect horse status as she breaks into a fast canter back toward the gate.  Dark eyes widen at the feel of the power and speed of the animal. Then the ugly scar on the face of a broken boy becomes beautiful as it twists and bends itself into an ear-to-ear grin.  Dark hair flies as his head rolls back and he laughs out loud. Comanche stops, right in front of me as she has been taught, and she has regained any lost status in my book, for she has just given a boy the wonderful gift of laughing. 

After much more laughing and picture taking with his horse and the American cowboy, Nicu leaves. 

Nicu and ComancheI don’t know if I will ever see him again, or if I will be able to know what happens to him, but I owe him.  For he left me with a picture in my head of the most uniquely beautiful, smiling face that I have ever seen, and the feeling that my Savior was watching that day, and He was smiling too.

Published in: on July 22, 2008 at 6:42 pm Comments (4)
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A Horse called Freedom

“We have some horses here that might be what you are looking for.  Why don’t you come and check them out?”

 

We had first met Adam and Cyndy last year when they answered an ad for a horse for sale.  Cyndy loved horses and at 36, had been finally ready for her first horse. After months of searching, she met a beautiful painted draft cross horse that we had for sale.  It was love at first sight and he became hers.  After moving to a larger property, Adam decided that he was interested in a horse as well. 

 

A friendship had begun after the sale of Cyndy’s horse and we had many conversations with them, especially Adam, on the phone and in person.  He had told us he was an atheist but was very interested in what we did with kids and families and horses.  He expressed many times that there was a sense of peace and hope at this ranch that he could not explain.  Many times he asked us to tell him how and why it was different here, but could we please leave God out of the conversation?  After we shared how that was impossible, that we were only who we are, and this place is only what it is, through the grace, love and peace that God brings into our lives, he began to open up. 

 

He had been struggling for many years with overwhelming depression and anxiety.  He and Cyndy had only been married a few years and his burden was threatening to tear their marriage apart.  Voices in his head bombarded him with many lies- that he was completely worthless, no one could ever love him, his past was too much to overcome, he should end his life and take away the burden of himself from others.  His bondage was so great that often the only way that he could make through the day alive was to stay on one couch in their house.  He knew that if he did not leave that couch while the voices in his head were raging, he would not do himself bodily harm.  This had happened several times a week for many years.  Through his care for Cyndy’s horse while she was working- he worked from home- he slowly came to realize that while he was in the corral, doing chores and feeding, his fears were lessened, his bondage was eased. In his hope, he came back to us, to find a horse that could set him free.

 

“We have an overwhelming situation here.  We have 40 horses that are starving and need immediate help.  Do you have any room at your ranch for a group of them?”

 

I got off the phone with the sheriff’s deputy with my heart saddened, but with the pull to help in any way we could.  We were bordering on full with horses at our property, but I knew that we needed to help in this situation.  A horse “rescue” about an hour away had been finally shut down after the abuse and starvation became public knowledge.  The horses and other animals were in horrific condition with bones and ribs protruding.  For most, this was their only health issue.  The woman that had run the rescue had hay just outside the fence.  She just chose not to feed it.  These horses were tortured by the smell of the hay right outside their corral with no way to get to it.  5 horses, 2 ponies and a little jack donkey arrived at our house and slowly and weakly moved to their pens and dove into large piles of hay. 

 

Over the next few weeks, as the weight began to be put back on, the life came back into their eyes.  They began to play in the pens and their personalities became more evident.  One little gelding emerged as the clown, always starting games of chase with the other horses.  One gelding was sweeter and more mellow, always ready for a scratch.  Two were mustangs and their fear was very strong at first.  As they realized that our arrival meant hay and grain, they began to whinny and call when they would see us come.  Our mornings were greeted by the little donkey’s bray.   They all had come with their own names from the rescue and we prayed about what their new names should be.  For the first time, new names did not come easily.  For the time being, we decided to stick with the names that they came with. 

 

Adam and Cyndy arrived to check out the horses.  The horses had put most of their weight back on and were ready for new homes.  We walked through the herd and talked about the different needs of each horse that was available.  One horse in particular stood out to Adam.  He followed us around as we walked and was ready for attention at all times.  Adam asked us if he could consider him more carefully.  Adam and Cyndy spent the night with us that night and Scott had the opportunity to share the plan of salvation with Adam.  He did not make a decision but his face was thoughtful as he headed off to bed. 

 

The next morning, he came to us and told us that he felt like God had told him to take that horse.  I looked at Scott in amazement.  He knew what I was thinking and as I turned back to Adam I said, “I find it tremendously amazing and a sign of God’s love toward you, that God told you to take a horse named Freedom.” 

 

Adam has come to visit Freedom several times since then.  The last time he was here, he stayed for five days.  As he was preparing to leave, he fought back tears as he shared that he had not had a single struggle with fear or anxiety while he was here.  It was the longest stretch he had ever gone and he was afraid to go home.  His heart had felt peace and he did not want to go back to the bondage that he had been under before.  He knew that God had given him what he needed to break his bonds, and yet he was still afraid to reach out and trust.  

 

Freedom goes to his new home with Adam and Cyndy this week.  Our prayer is that through this little horse, who was in bondage himself and set free, that God will shower His grace and love on our friend whose bonds still linger. That the unconditional love of this horse will mirror the unconditional love of God.  That through a little horse named Freedom, those iron bands will be broken forever.

 

John 8:32

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

Published in: on July 16, 2008 at 8:47 am Comments (3)
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I Don’t Understand

It was a clear September morning.  The waves splashed against the sand of the beach of the Southern California Coast.  We relaxed and listened.  Me, almost asleep on a blanket, Josie with her nose in a book, and the kids splashing in the sea water.  It was a perfect vacation, and one that had been a long time in coming.

The cell phone rang.

Josie picks it up and I get to hear one side of a conversation.  Most of the time I’m pretty good at understanding from hearing one side, but this time was different.

“What?” she says.  “You’re kidding me!!”

She was very alarmed and I was stirring rapidly from my dozing.

“Is everything alright?” I mouth the words to her hoping that she can lip read me and talk at the same time. 

“Get the vet out as soon as you can,” she says and she slowly shakes her head in response to my question while holding up one finger to stave off my questioning looks.

The conversation continued for a little bit and then she hung up the phone.  She looked at me with a stunned expression. “Silver is hurt, and we may have to put her down.” She says

Silver is a mustang.  She was captured as a 2 year old and adopted immediately for her color.  She is a blue roan appaloosa and I had never seen color like that.  When we got her she was eight and had not been touched since her adoption date 6 years prior.  Needless to say, she was a handful.

Josie said that it was our ranch hand, Ben, on the phone.  He had been wakened from a much-deserved sleep-in to his own phone.  One of our neighbor ladies on her way to work had seen a horse in our pasture struggling to move.  He had gone to check and found Silver with a huge gash in her left hip.   By huge, I mean like nothing I have ever heard of.  The gash measured 3 feet long and almost 12 inches deep. Completely severing the entire glut muscle and only stopping at the bone of her pelvis. 

What could have caused an incredible injury like that?  Our first thought was that we had missed something awful when we had cleaned up our hundred year old property.  But I could think of no thing that could have caused such an injury. 

The call later confirmed what we feared.  The vet had looked at her and said that the humane thing to do would be to put her down.  He said that she may heal to walk on three legs, but would never regain function of her fourth and would probably be in extreme pain for the remainder of her life.  We consented and it was over.  We received pictures via e-mail later that day and were again stunned. 

The plan had been to go home immediately.  But we had driven to California, so we were looking at an eighteen-hour one-way trip home.  The finances weren’t there to be able to fly one of us home, and the more we thought about it, the more we understood that there was nothing at this moment we could do for Silver.  Our children are young and had been graciously sharing their parents with our new ministry, and needed to be reminded that they were more important to us than all the responsibilities at home. So we chose to allow Ben to take care of the situation and continue our vacation.

We kept in contact with Ben and he relayed to us that the Sheriff had been called and that they had all searched the pasture and corrals to no avail.   There was nothing found to cause such an injury.

The cell phone rang.

Josie picks it up and I get to try and interpret a one sided conversation again.

“No way!!”

“Not again!”

“Not Sunny!”

This time the message was pretty clear from one side.  It had happened again.  It had been 2 days since Silver’s injury, and it had happened again; a wound in the same style to a different horse, Sunny. 

Sunny is one of the best horses I have ever worked with.  She is a Missouri Fox Trotter and one of the most loving horses I have ever known.  She has taught countless children, including my own, to ride.

The vet came.  Ben called.  Sunny’s injury was the same, though not as severe.  She would be stitched and may be able to heal with some help.

We packed up and headed for home. 

Sunny’s injury healed.  It has been 7 months since she was hurt.   Miraculously, she is fine today.  The cause of the injuries was never found and the consensus was that it was human caused.  The sheriff and the vet agreed.  Someone did this to our horses.

The resulting investigation turned up nil.  We became hopeless for a solution.  We prayed.

Time passed…… 

I took a job to help pay the bills planting trees with one of the local ranchers.

My cell phone rang.

I picked up the phone to hear Josie’s voice on the other end.  She was in town at a doctor’s appointment.

“The Electric meter man just called me,” she said.  “He says we have a horse in the corral with a cut.  Do you want to run home and check it out?”  

“Sure”

There was no urgency.  My mind went to the countless times that we have had someone call us or comment on a horse cut that turns out to be nothing but the result of horse play in the herd.  No big deal.

I pulled in the driveway and he was standing right next to the front gate of the corral.

My heart jumped to my throat.

It had happened again.

Jake.  A 20-year-old mustang gelding with a wonderful history.  This gentle soul had been locked in.  As a matter of fact, all the horses had been locked in the corral for over a week to let the new spring grass get established in the pasture.  It was April.  Nothing had happened since September.  Here we were again.

Oh, God what is going on? 

This was slightly different.  The wound was about 18 inches long and about 5 inches deep just behind the left shoulder.

I called Josie.  She was on her way home and arrived in just a few minutes. 

She took the horse to the vet while I conducted my own search of the corral. Again, nothing turned up.

The sheriff was called again.  Nothing resulted from the ensuing investigation.  The consensus on the cause: human.

The local news was called, came out and did a story on the problem. 

It has now been 1 year since Jake was attacked. We have no answers, but plenty of questions.  Who could, or would have done this?  Why would they do such a thing?  Is someone angry with us and taking it out on our horses?  Are we in danger?  Are our children in danger? 

…..No answers.

More questions.  God, why would You allow this to happen?  What is Your purpose for this?  Do you not care about these animals that we love?  Are You going to protect us?  What about our children, are they safe?

…….No answers.

We have been reminded over and over through our walk with God that He and only He is in complete control and we belong to Him.  Our children belong to Him.  Our horses belong to Him.  We know this.  That has become our comfort.  Every once in a while a situation arises that makes me ask questions with no answers.  And it is in these times that God says in that still, small voice, “Do you trust Me?  Even if you don’t know why.  Even if you don’t understand.  Do you trust Me?  Remember that I gave you your home.  I gave you your horses.  I gave you your children.  They are only on loan to you.”

I have the decision to make each time. Will I trust Him?  If I don’t know the way.  Will I trust Him?

This time I have made my decision.  I will trust Him.  After all, if I understand, if I know the way, then it’s not truly trusting.  Is it?  I can only prove my faith when it is tested.  And it cannot be tested in the light where I can see everything, but only through the darkness can I truly trust.

Published in: on July 13, 2008 at 1:04 am Comments (4)
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Someone Knows

“She has a rough story,” her now foster mom says as we talk on the phone.

And as she continues, the word rough fails miserably as a description of this child’s life.  Jennifer’s mother is a prostitute.  This led to sexual abuse by her mother’s clientele which in turn led to an ingrained distrust of adults and authority. The abuse continued up until she was finally placed in the foster care system.  She was then transferred to 3 different homes over the next 4 months.  Her father is an alcoholic who is banned from speaking with her since he threatened to kill her the last time they had talked. 

“Could she come and spend some time with the horses? I think it may help,” says her foster mother.

The word “no” cannot even be a thought for one such as this.  “Of course she can come.  I don’t know how much help we can be, but the horses know better than we do sometimes.”

The time is set; she will come once a week for one hour.

Now is the time that the feelings of inadequacy set in.  I am no counselor, I have no training.  ”God, you will have to work here because I don’t know what I am doing with this fragile spirit.  Please use this place, and your animals to do what you do best.”

6 months earlier…

“He has a rough story,” his owner says as we look at the red roan paint before us.  “He was a child lesson horse at a dude ranch before he was sold to a nearby farmer.”  And as the story goes on, once again the word rough is inadequate.  She goes on to explain how the farmer got on Shiloh and spurred him to go get the cows from the pasture.  Shiloh, not ever having known spurs before, bucked the farmer off.  The farmer, in his anger and frustration, tied Shiloh to a post and beat him until he stopped struggling and just stood there to take it.  He then left him tied to the pole with no food or water, where he may have died without the help of this caring person standing before me. 

“Do you want him for the ranch?  I know he won’t be able to be ridden without some work, but I think it may be good for him to stay with you.” 

And again the word “no” is far from my mind.

Back to the present…

Jennifer shows up for a lesson, a beautiful girl with dark curls and dark eyes. 

“Would you like to meet the horses?” Josie asks.  “You may play with any one that you want.”  As Jennifer surveys the herd, her eyes fall on our beloved Thunder.  He is a 17 hand gentle giant whose idea of heaven is to be scratched while eating.  “I think I would like hi….,” but that is as far as the words get before a white nose blocks her view of the massive Thunder.  She moves to peer around Shiloh as he has come between her and her choice.  She points around him at Thunder, “The big black o…,”  and again a white nose blocks her view.  Shiloh breaths deeply, his nose only inches from hers, as if completely taking in who this little girl is. 

Quiet.

A slight giggle.

“I think I need to take this one.  He won’t let me choose anyone else.”

And with that, the horse has obediently followed the will of his Master.  He will now use his experience to help heal another.

Later, after much brushing and chit-chat, the girl looks up at Josie with those dark eyes and states, “He doesn’t have any scars from the farmer?”  “No” says my wise wife, “not on the outside, but he still has his scars on the inside that have not yet healed.”

Quiet.

A whisper, “I know.”

And with that simple statement, the wounds start to scab over in that little heart.  The scars that no one can see, that we think no one else knows, God knows.  And through a horse’s choice of a little girl, I knew that He had chosen to share her scars with a horse that understood what those unseen scars can do to a little girl.  She has a long way to go, but, in time, maybe, God will choose to share someone’s unseen wounds with Jennifer, and he will allow her to be His tool to start the healing in someone else that she has started to experience now.

 EPILOGUE:

We kept in contact with Jennifer as she was moved through 2 more homes.  Now she will move 1 more time as a family has come forward and started the adoption process.  She has been out to the ranch frequently.  But the real triumph came when we were able to attend the service where Jennifer was baptized, proclaiming to the world that she has now found Someone worthy of her trust that can help to fully heal the scars on her young heart. 

           And the angels rejoice.

Published in: on July 12, 2008 at 6:29 pm Comments (1)
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A Flicker of Hope

The young mom closed the door of her minivan as her two kids tumbled out. Her exasperated look said it all as they ran screaming off into the yard to play on the swings.  As we unloaded her bags and carried them into the bunkhouse, we talked.  She was overwhelmed with the care that her daughter was requiring and the struggles with defiance that she was facing each day.  Her husband had been out of work for over two years and her young son, who was diagnosed with epilepsy, was getting worse. The medical bills were mounting and there was no hope in sight.  She had come to Wild Horse Hope for a break, a respite, a glimpse of God in the chaos.  She had come because her daughter loves horses and she had heard that maybe some time in the saddle would be good for her son. Her eyes were without hope or peace.
How have you seen God today?” At the end of a long day, this question is posed as we sit around the campfire with a cup of hot cocoa.
“I saw God when He took away my fear of trotting.” “I saw God in the new lambs!” “I saw God in the breath of my horse and heard His voice on the wind.”  “I saw God in the trust of a wild mustang for a new person.”  “I saw God in the healing of the abused horses.” “I see God in Me!”
 These are the ways that those who begin to see God in the surroundings here. The silence of God in the chaos of life can make one feel that hope is dying. When you can see God in your surroundings and hear His breath on the wind, Hope begins anew.

As the young mom loaded her kids into the van for the ride home, she paused with us to pray. Her prayer of thanks for the respite and peace in the midst of her struggles brought tears to our eyes. In her calm smile and straightened shoulders and in her eyes we saw renewed Hope. In her short visit to Wild Horse Hope, God brought healing to her heart and she could carry on for one more day. 

Through Wild Horse Hope Ministries, God has called us to rekindle Hope through His creation.  When a broken person meets a horse who was broken and is now healed, we see the dim flicker of Hope’s dying light burst back into a living flame. God truly cares!

Many struggle with the burdens of daily life. We want to offer them renewed Hope, and we need your help.  Just as the deadness of winter is transformed into new life in the spring, you can be part of transforming people’s live through the gift of Hope. Your gift will not only allow children and families to hear the message of Hope but to experience it first hand!  Your monthly support allows a child or family to come to Wild Horse Hope cost free.

What a joy and privilege it is to witness God’s miraculous rebirth of Hope in individual lives!

 

 

 

 

 

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