1 Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever. 2 Give thanks to the God of gods. His love endures forever. 3 Give thanks to the Lord of lords: His love endures forever.
4 to him who alone does great wonders, His love endures forever. 5 who by his understanding made the heavens, His love endures forever. 6 who spread out the earth upon the waters, His love endures forever. 7 who made the great lights— His love endures forever. 8 the sun to govern the day, His love endures forever. 9 the moon and stars to govern the night; His love endures forever.
10 to him who struck down the firstborn of Egypt His love endures forever. 11 and brought Israel out from among them His love endures forever. 12 with a mighty hand and outstretched arm; His love endures forever.
13 to him who divided the Red Sea[a] asunder His love endures forever. 14 and brought Israel through the midst of it, His love endures forever. 15 but swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea; His love endures forever.
16 to him who led his people through the wilderness; His love endures forever.
17 to him who struck down great kings, His love endures forever. 18 and killed mighty kings— His love endures forever. 19 Sihon king of the Amorites His love endures forever. 20 and Og king of Bashan— His love endures forever. 21 and gave their land as an inheritance, His love endures forever. 22 an inheritance to his servant Israel. His love endures forever.
23 He remembered us in our low estate His love endures forever. 24 and freed us from our enemies. His love endures forever. 25 He gives food to every creature. His love endures forever.
26 Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever.
Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat. ~Mother Teresa
I got up early this Monday morning to walk to school so I was sure to have breakfast. The bed is soaked with urine, as I’ve once again wet the bed in the night. I lay the Bible aside that I’ve slept with and quietly get dressed….my underwear still wet. I haven’t eaten much in two days, so getting to school early enough to have breakfast is my focus. I get started and talk to God on the way. There were times when I begged His forgiveness for my sinful behavior in not obeying my mother and there were others that I asked him for a mommy and daddy to care for me. My oldest sister Lilly (12 years old) walks beside me and asked what I was thinking about…I don’t say. She loves me and I love her. She’s more like a mama to me, though I don’t realize it at the time. She works so hard to feed us on weekends when the cupboards are bare. She borrows bread from a neighbor and we eat mustard sandwiches. There’s always milk thanks to Betty the milk lady. She delivers it each week in glass gallon jugs I can hardly lift. Lilly always gives me the first glass, which is mostly sweet cream….she giggles when I drink it and squishes up her nose and pretends she doesn’t much like it.
I get to school and hurry to the cafeteria and try to fill an empty stomach on all they offer…I sit and eat so fast and still feel hungry…then my tummy hurts, it goes through me almost as soon as I swallow the last bite. I head down the first grade hall, eager to see my teacher. I’m not a good student, a terrible reader…but I love school. Mrs. Sherrill greets me at the door of her classroom with a hug that makes me feel as if I am her child. She turns my face up to hers and asked if I had a good weekend and if I’m ready to learn….I say the word “yes”, but my wounded heart and unseen bruises cry silently behind smiles. We walk over to the sink and brush my teeth, wash my face and hands and put on her good smelling lotion…which has become routine. She begins to brush the tangles out of my hair with the gentleness of a loving mother, and then pulls my long thick hair back with a ribbon. She hugs me again…I don’t want to let go….with gentleness that can’t be describe, she takes my face in her hands and says she loves me…but her tender eyes say more than her words and I walk to my desk with confidence that I am loved, as the children begin to file in.
Mrs. Sherrill always seemed to find ways to take care of me without drawing attention….tucking ribbons for my hair into my valentine bag or new panties into my Easter basket. She was patient when I came in each day without homework done or papers signed…Mama never checked these things and when it was time to sign my report card, the only reason she did so was to keep the teacher from coming to visit. Nobody was allowed into our world and Mama always doing just enough to keep them out.
Over the years I’ve prayed for Mrs. Sherrill, asking God to bless her for the kindness and unconditional love she extended to me…not just while I was in her class during first grade, but for the next two years when I would rather stay by her side on the play ground, than to play with childhood friends. She planted a seed in my heart that year, that others would water and God would grow. I often asked God for the opportunity to thank her.
It would be over thirty years later; when it appeared that I would lose most of the people I love due to speaking the truth…. God would allow me the privilege to thank her. I reached out to the elementary school from my childhood in Mena, Arkansas. I sent a note to the principal and the school counselor and asked them to share what Mrs. Sherrill had done in my life all those years before and thank each teacher for the investment in the lives of children….this simple gesture brought comfort to my breaking heart. I was drowning in the pain of the present and longing for unconditional love from the past.
God so graciously allowed me to hear from my first grade teacher that week…she was now Mrs. (Barbara) Genung, but her heart was the same gentle and loving woman I’d known all those years before and she was still teaching first grade and loving all those babies in her class. I began to cry as I read her email.…sobs shaking my body, I knew this was God’s tender way of reminding me that He would never leave me or forsake me…this would happen for weeks after as Barbara and I emailed almost daily. This was the beginning of unspeakable healing from the most closed off places of the heart of a wounded little girl.
On one occasion I shared with Barbara that I often dreamed she was my mother when I was a child and often found myself hoping and praying for a mother like her. She said something to me in response that brings a smile to my heart and tears to my eyes even now….She called me the daughter of her heart. I’m not sure she truly understands what a wealth of grief of feeling completely alone and abandoned; she lifted by that one sentence. I love her with the heart of a little girl who knows Her Heavenly Father, The Father of Lights, brought the mother of my heart back into my life for such a time as this.
James 1:17
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. LORD my God, I will praise you forever.
I’ve had an incredible response to my post “Good for Nothing…”, but it also brought about hard feelings from a family member who doesn’t feel I should share our families dirty laundry. It’s interesting to me that I hear from them only when they want to manipulate me into doing something. I’m 42 years old….you would think we would be past this…not so much. Here’s my point in sharing this with you…do not keep silent! Do not keep silent about what God has done in your life!!! Allow Him to heal those wounded places in your heart and then tell everyone what He has done! We are only here but for a moment….oppressed and chained to your past is no way to exist. I found myself focusing on the one negative and not focusing on all of the women who shared stories with me and encouraged me to continue.
I have so much more to share, He has done great things! My praise for Him burst from my heart and I can’t stop thanking Him for what He’s done! Woot!
As I walked in and shut the door, I knew I was in trouble. Mama had been sleeping when I left, and the look on her face told me what was coming. She sent me to the bedroom and told me to get on the bed. I cleared it (of clothes and trash…there were never sheets) while she yelled for me to “Hurry up and get undressed! You are going to learn not to make me worry!” I took my clothes off and climbed up on the bed, trembling as I knew what was next. She screamed she didn’t know where I had been and I had caused her to worry that I had been hurt or taken….followed by, “If anyone ever did take you they wouldn’t keep you for long! You are good for nothing! Do you hear me? Good for N-O-T-H-I-N-G!” she screeched. The little girl I was didn’t know to ask why someone so concerned about my safety would beat me with such reckless abandon. My tiny bare body begins to shake as her screams make their way into the room. In the future I would learn to be more careful. I did my best to leave and return home undetected; ideally when she was sleeping. Today I would pay for my miscalculation.
With each blow of the belt on bare flesh, I gasp from the pain. The sound of the box fan in the window creates an eerie harmony with the screams coming from the one who loathes my existence. I cry quietly, my small body willing itself still. I try with all my might not to move and accept the beating; any reaction to defend myself fuels her rage. She grabs my long hair and jerks my head back to the point I fight consciousness….finally the room goes black. The unconscious moments provide a temporary escape, but when I awaken the blows begin again. She continues the assault until she is spent and unable to continue. She stops suddenly with a deep sigh, almost as if she’s defeated. I do not make eye contact, sobs convulsing my entire body. She leaves the room and eventually I hear deep breathing coming from the next bedroom. I quietly get dressed and make my way out to the back yard…still the deep, quiet sobs shake my seven-year old frame. In our backyard, I lay down in the grass, as I often do and look up at the sky, wiping away the tears with the back of my hand only to find I’m bleeding, not realizing my eardrum has been ruptured from the blows. I wipe away the blood, longing for kisses to take away the hurt.
The fear subsides, sobs fade and my breathing steadies. My tears begin to dry on my soft cheeks. I pray for forgiveness for being such a sinful child….her screams echoing in my heart, “You are a child of the devil, you don’t ever mind me and you will rot in hell for it Rebekah!”
The name Rebekah literally means Tied Up but more specific (and more friendly) is Secured. As a little girl I hated my name. The only one who ever used my given name was my mother. Hearing it invoked unspeakable fear. I wanted so badly for my mother to love me, but she could not give what she had never been given. My grandmother was even more abusive to my mother than she was to me, but it would be years before I would know that. I hardly knew my grandfather growing up…only that we always received a check from him at Christmas and a visit in the summer. He was always kind and I felt safe when I was with him. I had three older siblings (five, six and seven years older than me) and one five years younger. The abuse I suffered at the hands of my mother went virtually undetected by neighbors, teachers and the church we attended. My older siblings were out of the house one by one in my early childhood. I adored them. For many years I believed there was a tiny angel who looked after me and it would be years later that I would find out it was my older sister Lilly, who was the tender age of six when I was born. I find it ironic that my name means “tied up” or “secured”. God has given me such security in Him, such peace and forgiveness…I have security in who I am in Christ Jesus. I remember as a little girl hearing someone read Psalm 27:10 to me;
When my father and my mother forsake me,
Then the LORD will take care of me.
I believe the Word for what it said. As crazy as my home life was, mama always had us in church. I was taught the Word of God was living and breathing and would protect me… I was terrified of my mother and often I would go to sleep at night with a Bible on my chest for fear that she would kill me in my sleep.
However, Ephesians 6:1-3 says;
1 Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. 2 “Honor your father and mother,” which is the first commandment with promise: 3 “that it may be well with you and you may live long on the earth.”[a]
I believed with everything that was in me, if I didn’t start “minding” my mother…I would die. I had no idea that this violence was not spurred on through the disobedience of a little girl, yet from generations of abuse (on my grandmother’s side of the family).
One last scripture that stuck with me through all of this, Hebrews 13:5;
Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”[a]
He never left me during these times of unspeakable violence at the hands of my mother. He gave me strength and as I forgave Mama later in my life, He began to write His story about me…. I felt His presence every moment of every day. I have a hard story to read, but I was not robbed of my childhood due to the courage I received from knowing I was/am His baby girl! I invite you to join me on this journey. I pray it will help to bring you to a closer relationship to the Lover of YOUR soul and that as you cry with me, that you will also join me at the feet of Jesus and allow Him to heal the deepest and most private places of your heart.
♥ Galatians 4:4-5 NKJV ♥
“But when the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, that we might receive the adoption as sons.”
~Praising God that I am His adopted daughter! –which means I’m a princess and can wear a tiara if I really want ♥
There are days when the going gets so tough…I DO NOT feel much like “going”. The battle against flesh and blood show up for the kill (of my spirit) and my flesh kicks in to “fight or flight” mode, reminding me that I’m just a girl in ….(at times) a very mean world. I’m crazy about Jesus and you would think as close to Him as I feel I would never struggle with anything….bitterness, gluttony, covetousness, jealousy….oh boy could I go on. I want to be fearless and crazy outrageous with my walk with Him and what He wants me to do. I look back at 2011 and know I needed to grow in so many areas….and shrink in some others! I am reminded that we are to press on…not look back and dwell in the past.
♥ Philippians 3:13-14 (NIV) ♥
13 Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,14 I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
So much has happened in my life and God has healed, restored and given me peace that can only be from Him. My gratitude runs deep and I give God the glory for taking my broken and un-beautiful life and turning it into His story and making it a breathtaking tale of a little girl who doesn’t learn to survive, but rather take off her shoes and dance barefoot in the rain.
I have been encouraged by many who tell me to write a book. I spent the last year praying about it and still not sure if it is the right thing to do. A small portion of the lives who have been touched by my telling the truth give me the greatest pause and even with the majority of “family” treating me as if I were the one who committed the crime… I find myself missing them in the deepest parts of my heart, yet grateful that the façade no longer has a hold on my life.
I’m a faithful writer…in my own head…I struggle with taking the time to get it all out and on paper. I started this blog a while ago, but not so faithful with posting. I will make an effort. I will write and share…without names, being careful not to bring any pain of shame to those I love…no matter how great the distance their hearts are from mine. I will tell of the great things God has done in my life so He is sure to get all the glory and for the hope that maybe there’s a broken heart of a little girl out there somewhere who needs to know she is His girl…a child of The King and she can wear a tiara if she really wants. ♥
So, I invite you to come…to join me on this journey to forgiveness, a grateful heart and the priceless feeling of having the courage and fearless heart of a princess.
There are days when the goodness of God is so evident and the meanness of the evil one…well, just as evident. I get buried in the burden of the lack of joy in some of the people I love the most in my life…always feeling it is somehow my job to help them find their “happy place”. In the process of this I can find myself bitter and full of frustration, sometimes that is aimed at God. Why would I do that? Oh my stars, there are days my heart could not be anymore full of joy…then I find myself in the presence of such fear of the past, such agony and it always gets all over me….I stay positive for a while, then grow tired of the fight to keep both of our heads above water…then it hits me, I’m playing God. Oh Jesus, please forgive my arrogance, forgive my pride and control. This is your fight Lord and not mine. This is a battle between You and the evil one for the very soul of me and those I love. I am reminded by this passage found in Exodus 14:14….
“The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
I am also taken back to Psalm 4:4-5
Be angry, and do not sin. Meditate within your heart on your bed, and be still. Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the LORD.
How is it that I have to be reminded of this every day! I am so stubborn and independent! This is ALL God’s, He’s got this! My job is to fight on my knees in prayer and through His Word and in the worship and praise I so humbly bring to my King during the best of times…and often, the very worst of time…broken, yet beautiful praise.
Try it for yourself. Try praising Him on the way to work for the glorious colors in His creation…despite the fight you just had, or the empty house you just left….so many ways we are broken. He is for you! Praise Him through it and see what happens. Praise Him through the day-to-day, while finding ways to add color to the sometimes very gray days…. Start with one scripture a day, then maybe two…eventually you will find you need more than just a few minutes of His Word…as you realize He is for you, it will be impossible not to praise Him through it all!
Find your “battle apron” and fight on your knees! Write His Word on your heart and fight with weapons that can’t be seen, rejoice in the fact that if He is for you, then who can be against you! Turn up that praise music and worship through the battle!
Isaiah
9
1[a]Nevertheless,
there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he
humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will
honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—
Do you ever feel like throwing caution to the wind and forgetting what everyone thinks and as the rain pours down from the great sky…just breaking out in dance? As a child I took every opportunity to dance in the rain and even at the tender age of 19 while pregnant with my first daughter, I talked my 20-year-old husband to join me! He was reluctant at first (quite the rule follower), but then gave in to the pressures of his young wife and we cut loose in the front yard and danced! As the rain fell and began to soak us from head to toe, we danced more. I’ll admit, the neighbors were watching….very small town in Kansas…as for Kent, he still has to be reminded it’s ok to dance in the rain…to have fun and not take life so seriously.
Somewhere in my very crazy childhood, someone taught me to dance in the rain…probably my sister Roseann. She was my protector, took care of me even as a baby girl herself at the age of 6 (when I was born). Parents partied and would leave us to care for ourselves and Rose became mama. Growing up in this situation caused unspeakable anxiety in precious hearts that shouldn’t have known or understood the fear we experienced. Roseann still knows how to dance in the rain and I’m certain, though I don’t remember the first time….she taught me to dance in the rain…not just literally, but also in any situation in life, I’ve carried it with me long into my adulthood.
I still have to remind myself that it’s ok to dance….to lighten my load and lay it all at the feet of Jesus. My girls often remind me…
I still love rainy days. My daughters all love to dance in the rain…something I’ve tried to teach them from the time they were old enough to get wet outside in their clothes, and they still get excited about rainy days! Here are a few of my girls after playing in the rain and mud!
There are times in my life when the sun is shining, but it’s pouring with storms of trouble in my heart…I get tired…then sick and tired, can I get an “amen”? As a wife, mother, employer…a woman…it’s just what it is. I try to stay focused and take things in stride, but just like most of us…I get discouraged. The only way to restore, nourish and “water” my soul is to dance in His presence…in every rainy/stormy season. It’s ALL His…take my life Lord and let it be, ever only ALL for thee…
This weekend I attended a retreat for Saving Grace called “Broken to Beautiful”….so many blessings, too many to count. I watched walls of protection fall and replaced with trust….trust in an unseen father. I watched the beauty of God’s grace played out in the hearts of young women with unspeakable stories of brokenness. I witnessed women surround and support them with a fearless heart and some of those heal from wounds of their past in the process.
There always seems to be a “campfire” time at retreats or church camps…we were no different. One by one, women came forward and shared how God had broken chains of addiction, shame and un-forgiveness through His message at this retreat. It was truly as beautiful as the birth of a baby. I however did not go forward to share. In fact, I didn’t share the entire weekend…not much anyway. I guess at times I complained at one thing or another to my good friend who allows me to do so and loves me despite it. I was tired and poured out….seems that’s what I am most of the time. I keep thinking I will find a way to be encouraged, I stay in the Word…pray to the point at times it seems it never ceases. I would like
to ask someone to pray with me or find a mentor for myself, someone to sharpen me..hold me accountable…yet I tell myself I can’t appear weak or down….or human? Keri and Jennifer spoke this weekend about “waste places”…I’ve decided I have “mask places”. I put on a mask of potection, always appearing to be transparent…yet realistically I am hiding some of the best parts of who I am because I believe I have to be strong at all times. I say the best parts, because I believe God sometimes uses the weakest parts of who we are to bring glory to His name. I am in full-time ministry after all and I am supposed to be the strong one, not showing my weakness….
2 Corinthians 12:9
New King James Version (NKJV)
9 And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My
strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather
boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
Doesn’t that say His strength is made perfect in MY weakness? So all of my fear, doubt, addictions, shame….that makes me strong? It only makes me strong when I allow Him to be my strength and not when I wear the mask to cover up my weakness…right? Verse 10 goes on to say this:
2 Corinthians 12:10
New King James Version (NKJV)
10 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in
reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For
when I am weak, then I am strong.
….when I am weak, then I am strong. YES!! I am! …and I continue to stay on that journey to forgive and lay at the feet of Jesus with my weakness, and at times sit on His lap with my head on His chest and weep in His arms as He rocks me to quiet my sobs. I know I am His little girl, I know I am His fearless woman…I choose to speak truth over my life and not lies.
So please allow me to go to the campfire tonight…. –Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so! Maybe I would have chosen to put my mask in that fire pit. At times I am afraid, I don’t feel loved, I still need to forgive…. I am so grateful that I’m my beloved’s and He is mine…I’m so grateful that I am the apple of His eye! I am grateful that He has broken the chains and I am free!
In March of 2010 Hannah was 14 years old and volunteering at a therapeutic horse ranch in Northwest Arkansas. She had been volunteering for about a year and a half off and on. She had earned some trust and respect from her supervisors and loved working with the children with special needs as well as with the horses. It was cold out this day in March and when I picked Hannah up she had her coat pulled up around her tight and seemed to be covered in dirt. She got in quickly and shut the door and didn’t say much. I could tell she was thinking and ask what was on her mind. She said nothing, but I could tell she was hurting…but had no idea what had just happened.
Hannah at age 11 working with one of the horses at Cookson Hills. She's loved horses almost since the day she was born.
This is her story:
It was yet another typical day at a local therapeutic equine riding program. I grew up around horses and when we moved from Oklahoma Mom wanted to find a place for me to be able to be around horses again, so I volunteered each week. I had finished my list of chores on the to do list and I found myself with plenty of free time so naturally, I wanted to be spending that time with my new pal Star. She is a Percheron-Fresian cross, so she’s a massive black horse… but her heart is bigger than she is. Being a super sweet, huge old horse and me a tall young girl who loves horses, we made a pretty good pair.
I asked permission to ride despite this afterthought in my mind telling me that right now it wasn’t a good idea. After the idea was approved of I skipped off and got my helmet and prepared Star for takeoff. As usual, I took about an hour just grooming her. Once that was done, I led her out to the jumping arena (no I was NOT jumping this horse)….only to get on her. I wasn’t alone, there were two other riders there as well. Star, being as massively built as she was, had no saddle or bridal. Therefore, I rode bareback with the lead rope fashioned into reigns. To get on her, I led her up to the fence line and slid onto her back. Good, I was on her and she performed flawlessly for me. I stopped her a moment and found myself staring off into space, moments later the feeding truck rumbled by toward the stable.
Star darted to the left, catching me by surprise and causing me to slide off her back like butter on a hot pan. Immediately my grip tightened on the lead rope in an attempt to stop her. She dragged me and I released my grip finding that my right hand was wrapped in the reigns. It’s hard to remember what happened after that as my memories are a blur. I recall that I got dragged then I felt a searing pain against my chest, just over my now rapidly beating heart. The blow knocked me off my feet. I regained my balance and ran alongside her when my hand finally slipped free of the reigns and at that moment I felt something smack my leg, knocking them both out from under me and I flew backward, landing on my back. With the wind knocked out of me, I laid there for a moment, trying not to panic so that I could breathe again without going unconscious. It hurt terribly as I tried to swallow the air from my empty lungs. All I could hear was the throbbing in my head, Star’s hoof beats, and the horrible groaning sound that my throat was making as I tried to catch my breath again. A woman ran beside me to see if I was okay. By that time, I was seconds away from breathing regularly again. I stood up without her help and told her I was fine…that was all I could say. She told me to put Star on the lunging line, but I didn’t know how to use it, so I walked her around the pen several times trying my best not to cry or limp. I was angry with no one but myself. Finally, bruised and battered I slowly led Star back to her stall. She wanted to eat so she was walking faster than me. I had to turn her in circles several times but she didn’t give me any trouble after that. I put my helmet and other equipment back in their rightful places, checked myself out of the register binder, and then walked mechanically out of the stable door trying to make myself look as natural as possible. Retaining the tears that begged to fall down my cheeks, I stood waiting for my mother to return. I didn’t want to talk to anyone so I didn’t. It seemed that hours had passed (though it was only moments) before I saw the blue pathfinder drive into the stable yard. I got in quickly and gave short answers to my mom’s questions. When we finally drove away, I told her what happened. In truth I was embarrassed. For some reason when I volunteered there, I felt inadequate and way too inexperienced to be working at that ranch. I told my mom that I didn’t want to come back. I was through with horses.
Turns out I did go back to that ranch. After a few days of trembling with fear every time a horse moved, I quit. I was a danger to myself and the horses as well as those around me. This was about a year and a half ago.
My mom started searching for other ranches for me to go to and she found a very special place called Autumn’s Reride. There I found that I didn’t have to ride, I could work with gentle old horses and some who were wounded from abuse and pretty much just groom and lead them around, which was what I was fine with. I don’t know why I stopped going, it may have been school getting in the way again… but well, we’ll get back to this place in a little while.
Hannah grooming UT
This past year I didn’t have really anything to do with horses. I was focused on drawing and writing, like I usually am and have always been. One day my grandmother sent me an email asking me if I wanted to ride sometime but I politely declined the offer. About a month ago, I found myself at a ranch where there were four sweet horses staring at me. U.T. and I clicked and it turns out that he was the one they’d chosen for me to ride. I groomed him and already I was preparing my trembling body to get on the back of the giant of a horse. They had him bow down so that I could reach his back and I mounted with ease. As soon as I got on his back, my trembling ended. This is what I had been missing. I rode around the paddock and he stumbled a few times, each time he did I froze with fear. Eventually, I relaxed and rode with ease.
Hannah rides again
Jacci, the owner of the horses, mounted and motioned me toward her. She asked me if I wanted to ride with her out in the pasture so I did. We talked a long while and I told her about my fall. We rode up to a huge hill and we rode through a patch off woods around a few ponds until we came to a flat stretch of land where we pushed up one gate. We were mounted on Tennessee Walkers, a breed I’d never experienced before. Their trot was like riding the air. When we finished, we turned and headed back the way we came and set them off again up the hill. When we returned we rode for a little while longer and then dismounted. I felt new life in me again. I felt like I could breathe
again….not just around horses, but I felt my spirit return to me. Something I didn’t realize that I had lost.
Hannah and her new best friend "Revelation"
After that day when I rode U.T., I truly longed to be around horses again. My mom called up Rebecca, the founder of Autumn’s Reride, and got me back out there again. I still feel a knot of fear every once in a while when I’m around horses, but I found that I now have the experience to really aid Rebecca with the ranch. I’ve been working there for about two or three weeks now. There I met a horse named Revelation, a rescued three-year-old Thoroughbred originally from Kentucky. He won’t be ridden for two years and I’m fine with that. I’m not sure I’m ready to ride at this point anyhow. Rev and I bonded real quick like and one day while I was working with him, Rebecca came up to me and said, “He’s yours.” I said, “Wait what?” And she replied, “God told me to give him to you, so I am! He’s yours!” I was thrilled, unable to speak. I’d wanted a horse since I was a little girl and here I had a three-year-old Thoroughbred for me to train as I please. Rev was mine! Three years ago I moved from my childhood home and moved to the city of Rogers…. I had hated it. Three years ago Revelation was born. If I hadn’t moved here, I would have never met the woman who would have given him to me. It’s funny how God works, isn’t it? Rebecca often mentions that she hears Him giggle and tells me how cute He is! I can’t help but agree with her!
