Between the saddle and the ground.
   

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Between the saddle and the ground.

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  • "between the saddle and the ground"
  • The grace of god is found between the saddle and the ground.

 
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    05-07-2012, 04:48 PM
  #1
Green Broke
Between the saddle and the ground.

Bíonn grásta Dé idir an diallait agus an talamh.

The grace of God is found between the saddle and the ground.


Between the saddle and the ground.

Nothing .. NOTHING on the planet moves my heart and soul like a horse. Nothing. It is God given. My earthly heart's deisre.

So how did I get to a place where my horse lives 50 miles from me .. I infrequently see her, and rarely ride her? How did I go years without talking daily about horses, living them, breathing them?

The bigger question is .. How do I get back?

I am being stirred .. like never before. This place will be a record of that journey. A journey back to that place that fills the hole in my soul. A journey back to ... HORSES. Feeding, caring, talking, reading, looking at, riding, BREATHING .. horses. A journey back to "my best life".

It has started .....
______________________________

My disclaimers:

I am a Christian, and will reference God, bible studies, and church. I'm not interested in debating or defending my faith. I'm just sharing.

As I walk through this, I will reference things in my life that have influenced the choices I have made that have brought me to this place .. some of these things could be uncomfortable for some. It's my reality.

I choose to do this on an open horse forum because ONLY HORSE PEOPLE will understand my need to return to that place of daily "breathing" horses daily.

And so I begin....
     
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    05-07-2012, 05:03 PM
  #2
Green Broke
What does the you "best life" look like?

It was a simple question, in a not-so-simple bible study. Four women baring their souls to God and each other. The question was simple.

My reply was - spiritually, or physically? I was told not to separate them. Ugh ... it's so easy to do.

I knew my "best life" would involve horses. I begin to share that I had attended a barrel race the day before .. just to watch .. and it took me almost an hour to quit crying. Oh, I wasn't bawling, but the tears were there. I was breathing horses. There were people, horses, saddles, dirt, loud speakers, horse trailers, noise and competition.

But where was I? Outside, looking in.

Well, because it takes money to compete, and have good horses, and trucks and trailers, and and and ....

The question was: If money were no object, where would you be?

The answer was there. Staring me in the face. I would be in there .. in the horse world. I would be IN that atmosphere, not just someone sitting in the stands watching.

That should be me. And I cried some more.

But there it was in front of me .. a picture of the life that I've let slip through my hands. I am NOT content with my horse being a pasture ornament, in someone ELSES pasture. I am NOT content with riding several times a year.

There is a "best" for my life. A passion that is God-breathed into my soul ... and I have to get back.

This is the start of my journey.
     
    05-08-2012, 09:26 AM
  #3
Green Broke
I don't know when it started .. as long as I can remember there were dreams of horses, barbies and GI Janes that had horses, pictures and drawings of horses, a bicycle named Flame that lived in a makeshift corral - ridden with reins attached to the handlebars.

I was that horse crazy girl.

I would spend a week during the summer at my mom's sister's house, where they had a shetland pony named June. June was hard to catch, hard to bridle, she bucked, she reared, and she would run away from you .. but to a determined horse crazy girl, she was the most AMAZING thing in the world .... and I loved her.

I was in Jr. High when we moved to Tennessee. It was there that we lived close enough to "the country" that I had friends with horses and ponies. We rode after school, we rode on the weekends.

One of those friends showed Appaloosas, and this was my introduction to the horse show world and that wonderful breed. I would spend the weekends with her and her dad at these shows and it was MOST AMAZING ..

I also bought 3 ponies during this time. Bambi was a black shetland for 20.00 .. Scotch was a silver dapple and free .. Choto was a silver dapple POA sized pony that I could ride. Fun times! Bambi was my baby. She knew tricks, she followed me around like a dog, she even came in the house (much to the horror of my mother!)

Funny .. I never asked if I could have these ponies. I just made arrangements with my friends' parents for board and then bought them. I babysat for cash and fed and cared for them myself - much to the chagrin of my parents. They didn't have much control of me in that area .. which is funny also because they were rather strict in all other areas .. hmmm. Looking back, I guess they figured there were worse things I could get into at that age.

This seemed like the perfect life to me ... and then we moved ... back to Florida.
     
    05-11-2012, 11:03 AM
  #4
Green Broke
Moving back to Florida was hard ... my dad lying to me about sending for my ponies later was even harder. Bye Bye Bambi, Scotch, Choto.

I eventually free-leased a horse for a while and then bought a little QH. I worked after school and on the weekends at a local petstore to support my "habit" .. every penny went to what basic, bare-minimum care for this 24/7 pastured horse. But she was mine.

During my senior year in high school, it was discovered that I had a back condition and need spinal surgery. Had to sell my horse .. Bye Bye Vandy.

I remember telling the surgeon, on the operating table, if he couldn't fix me where I could ride again, just let me die. I woke up in severe pain and spent the next week or so hopped up on morphine in the hospital. I was 17.
     
    05-11-2012, 04:42 PM
  #5
Green Broke
Fast forward to present:

Equipment is being delivered today to finish clearing the back 2/5 acres of our property. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh .. there is light at the end of the tunnel. One more step closer to having the horse(s) on our own property.

Whoot!
     

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