This weekend was long - endless waiting. But we did get things done, snow removal, great family time, writing, and meditating. God has been speaking to me in unusual, close and intimate ways which comforts me as I wait - and wait. Treatment starts Monday morning.
But now back to the stories of my youth - my happy place.
*******
It was a beautiful bright September morning. I found myself standing nervously in the middle of our farmyard as my father tried to teach me how saddle our horse Pokey. This was my second year of school and for the first time I was going to ride to school by myself over two miles away on a huge Clydesdale horse.
I had such a jumble of feelings; euphoria, fear, excitement, pride and other emotions I could not begin to describe.
In fact, I was so excited I didn’t really hear much of what he was saying!
All I knew was that I loved that saddle!
It wasn’t the fact that it was our first saddle and it would be the first time that I’d be riding it, but that this was a legendary saddle. It was a war army saddle!
What battles had it been in? Who all rode in this saddle? Did they win or lose? And I’d be sitting on that thing in just a few minutes!
All I saw was that bright shinny copper colored saddle horn glinting in the bright sunlight! Just that glow was intoxicating! I wondered what that would feel like in my hands! So smooth, cool and shiny! I was smitten!
My father seemed so slow about everything especially the apparent importance of something having to do with tightening the cinch and such, but then finally I he hoisted me on board. I could now feel the very familiar movement of the Pokey and I was in total agreement with her desire to get going, tossing her head and prancing her feet, only now held back by my father’s grip on her rains.
“Be careful,” he said, finally letting go.
With the final farewells ringing in my ears. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as we rounded the corner at a clip and disappeared behind the huge row of Caragana trees all along our quarter mile driveway.
I was now on my own.
I began to examine and feel the beautiful saddle under me. My hands moved slowly over the glowing copper horn, it was so smooth. I could feel some indentations and deeper scratches here and there but saw it as a bonus. This saddle was an “army saddle!” This thing had history! These marks obviously came from battles! Evidence of a vicious slash from a sword! That mark from a bullet fired by an enemy!
As I was examining the leather, I noticed Pokey was walking slower and moving her head downwards, yanking on my reins.
I knew what she wanted and released some rein so she could graze on the grass alongside the driveway, as I continued examining my beautiful saddle. I was delighted that it had saddle strings where I could tie up my bedding and food for long military marches. I put pressure on the stirrups leaning from side to side appreciating how far over I could move to dodge the javelins should they ever come my way!
Then my world tilted! Pokey was actually physically tiling downward! Why? What for? In panic I began gathering the reins to pull her head up to bring my world back to normal! Not a chance! She was taking control. Her shoulders kept going down and I found myself leaning sharply back, my stirrups swinging up and forward to stay in the saddle!
I innately knew what came next! She was laying down! I needed to abort now or get stuck under this horse! But which way? I didn’t want to tangle with those legs! I waited another moment for her to decide which way she would roll and then slid to safety.
I watched breathlessly from a safe distance as she tried to roll over again and again, in the midst of a raising cloud of dust, unable to remove that irritating saddle off her back.
Then she rose to her feet, looking straight at me, through the dust, defiance in her eyes! I made a move towards her reins, she threw up her head with a derogatory snort, “I fooled you good.” Then she spun around, leaving a trail of dust as she trotted proudly back home!
Sheepishly, I had to walk up that long driveway to the house where my father was already waiting for me.
“Don’t give her rein, pull her tight. Don’t let her eat…”
I never did that again.
Now a little more confident, I got up in the saddle and started off to school again. I was a little late – but then again school wasn’t the most important thing of that day. It was my legendary war saddle.
I was a Mennonite boy fascinated with war. Every ride to school was an imaginary military exercise. One time I might be a scout, carrying secret messages – the next time Pokey and I were galloping over the wide prairie fleeing for our lives under fire.
But now back to the stories of my youth - my happy place.
*******
It was a beautiful bright September morning. I found myself standing nervously in the middle of our farmyard as my father tried to teach me how saddle our horse Pokey. This was my second year of school and for the first time I was going to ride to school by myself over two miles away on a huge Clydesdale horse.
I had such a jumble of feelings; euphoria, fear, excitement, pride and other emotions I could not begin to describe.
In fact, I was so excited I didn’t really hear much of what he was saying!
All I knew was that I loved that saddle!
It wasn’t the fact that it was our first saddle and it would be the first time that I’d be riding it, but that this was a legendary saddle. It was a war army saddle!
What battles had it been in? Who all rode in this saddle? Did they win or lose? And I’d be sitting on that thing in just a few minutes!
All I saw was that bright shinny copper colored saddle horn glinting in the bright sunlight! Just that glow was intoxicating! I wondered what that would feel like in my hands! So smooth, cool and shiny! I was smitten!
My father seemed so slow about everything especially the apparent importance of something having to do with tightening the cinch and such, but then finally I he hoisted me on board. I could now feel the very familiar movement of the Pokey and I was in total agreement with her desire to get going, tossing her head and prancing her feet, only now held back by my father’s grip on her rains.
“Be careful,” he said, finally letting go.
With the final farewells ringing in my ears. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as we rounded the corner at a clip and disappeared behind the huge row of Caragana trees all along our quarter mile driveway.
I was now on my own.
I began to examine and feel the beautiful saddle under me. My hands moved slowly over the glowing copper horn, it was so smooth. I could feel some indentations and deeper scratches here and there but saw it as a bonus. This saddle was an “army saddle!” This thing had history! These marks obviously came from battles! Evidence of a vicious slash from a sword! That mark from a bullet fired by an enemy!
As I was examining the leather, I noticed Pokey was walking slower and moving her head downwards, yanking on my reins.
I knew what she wanted and released some rein so she could graze on the grass alongside the driveway, as I continued examining my beautiful saddle. I was delighted that it had saddle strings where I could tie up my bedding and food for long military marches. I put pressure on the stirrups leaning from side to side appreciating how far over I could move to dodge the javelins should they ever come my way!
Then my world tilted! Pokey was actually physically tiling downward! Why? What for? In panic I began gathering the reins to pull her head up to bring my world back to normal! Not a chance! She was taking control. Her shoulders kept going down and I found myself leaning sharply back, my stirrups swinging up and forward to stay in the saddle!
I innately knew what came next! She was laying down! I needed to abort now or get stuck under this horse! But which way? I didn’t want to tangle with those legs! I waited another moment for her to decide which way she would roll and then slid to safety.
I watched breathlessly from a safe distance as she tried to roll over again and again, in the midst of a raising cloud of dust, unable to remove that irritating saddle off her back.
Then she rose to her feet, looking straight at me, through the dust, defiance in her eyes! I made a move towards her reins, she threw up her head with a derogatory snort, “I fooled you good.” Then she spun around, leaving a trail of dust as she trotted proudly back home!
Sheepishly, I had to walk up that long driveway to the house where my father was already waiting for me.
“Don’t give her rein, pull her tight. Don’t let her eat…”
I never did that again.
Now a little more confident, I got up in the saddle and started off to school again. I was a little late – but then again school wasn’t the most important thing of that day. It was my legendary war saddle.
I was a Mennonite boy fascinated with war. Every ride to school was an imaginary military exercise. One time I might be a scout, carrying secret messages – the next time Pokey and I were galloping over the wide prairie fleeing for our lives under fire.
“You must get an education. You must go to school, and you must learn to protect yourself. And you must learn to protect yourself with the pen, and not the gun.” - Josephine Baker
RSS Feed