Three years ago I sat quietly in our arena and watched one of our mares foal. Within an hour the beautiful little sorrel filly was up and about showing of her socks and fancy moves. I believe it took maybe two hours and she started to lope around the arena, if that’s what you wanted to call it. Watching her that morning her feet seemed to never touch the ground. Within a few minutes of seeing her, my friends’ grandchild named her Gracie, a very fitting title. Just a year ago it took me all of five minutes to have her saddled and moving around the arena once again, this time I was enjoying the view from her back. Every day she is a joy to ride, she can already slide a good 15 feet effortlessly, and her flying lead changes are often undetectable to even a trained eye. Four days ago she pulled up lame on her right front foot. Yesterday my vet confirmed all the pain and fear in my gut, she had fractured her ankle.
Ten years ago I sat at a church in Rancho Cucamonga California, waiting for a young man from Montana to arrive. Stepping through the door was a 6’4” ranch kid, who was built stronger than the church. His smile went from one big ear to the next, his hug was enough to crush anyone, and his laughter was just part of his normal conversation. For the next six weeks I would train him how to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ. For the last ten years he has taught me how to live it. No elegant sermon I have given has come close to being as powerful as his smiling humble witness of the power of the gospel. A few days ago I was prompted to call him and see how his surgery to remove his cancer tumor had gone. Time got away from me but last night my wife reminded me of the need. My call was answered by the same smiling voice filled with joy. His body was battling infection; his spin now had four tumors, his lungs three, and two on his left leg. His only negative comment was the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be a little farther away than last time we talked. I hung up the phone turned on the computer and started to look for a flight to Seattle to see a dying friend.
As we look into the eyes of Gracie and Kirk, something is present that is amazing to me. Threw the light that shines out is hope, happiness, and life. Some times in life we look too much at the cross and the crown of thorns. We forget to peek into the empty tomb were an angle reminds us not to look for the dead when they are among the living. So affixed on the suffering we don’t let the fire burn within us on the road to Emmaus. So worried about the heaviness of the sand we forget we are being carried by the Christ who overcame that cross. I have personally witnessed the prayers of faith kill cancer, and comfort those who are on final breaths. I have seen foals born to run and play and win great prizes, and seen foals laid to rest. Yesterday a vet and phone call reminded me of the pain of life. The two suffering in that pain let me gaze at the eyes of the Savior. One set of x-rays showed a broken ankle, one phone call expanding cancer. Yesterday I had a horse pass a vet check and bring me enough extra money to buy a flight to see a friend who is living, and treatment to a great filly. His arms are stretched out to us still, his tender mercies are abounding. This is life eternal to know the living God; I know Jesus Christ is alive! We had a good talk yesterday and everything is ok, he just needs my help holding a horse and a friend the next few months. It’s amazing what you can see in the eye of a horse, and hear in the voice of a friend.
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