In the Beginning....

I had made the 350 mile journey from Richmond, VA. to Chester, SC-- there was no turning back. All I could do now was rely on God and forge ahead. With each day that passed, school became a rather comfortable routine, and before I knew it, I was heading into my final year of college.

 I had one last free summer before graduation to take an adventure to Yellowstone National Park, one of my all-time favorite places. The itinerary was filled with several adventurous activities including white water rafting, fly fishing, and my own personal favorite… horseback riding (which was all I could talk about the entire week,  and I know I drove my mother crazy!). Although I had participated in several therapeutic riding programs growing up, this was one of the rare opportunities I had to ride in the wild.

Our slow moving line of horses ambled out of Roosevelt Lodge and headed into the quiet meadows of the Lamar Valley. The gentle gelding guided me down the rocky trail and over a small rippling creek, my body swaying like a rocking chair in the clean crisp leather saddle.  It was in that peaceful moment I discovered my passion and newfound freedom, and I couldn’t let it slip away.

[For people who have the ability to ambulate without any assistance, riding a horse might just be another hobby, but for me, it’s an unexplainable feeling. It’s as if the weights holding me down are finally being uprooted, and for the first time in my life, I am free. Free from the physical and emotional torments that have encased me for so long, free to soak up every ounce of God’s great beauty with each beat of the horse’s hooves.]

I began talking to my mother about my desire to ride and she agreed that I should pursue lessons. My aunt told me about an equestrian center not far from my home in SC and suggested I contact them. I immediately jumped on the opportunity, and my mother made the arrangements the week we returned from vacation.  The Lord took hold of my hand the instant this journey began. I soon found out the owner of the barn was a physical therapist who knew first-hand the importance of riding for people with disabilities. She was thrilled that I had taken an interest in this hobby and put me in communication with the riding instructor.

After explaining my circumstances to the coach, she said that even though she had never worked with a disabled rider, she didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t ride. We quickly proceeded to schedule sessions, with my first lesson slotted at the end of the week.  I could not believe how quickly God had placed His hand on this situation….a barn ten minutes away from where I lived, owned by a physical therapist, with a riding coach receptive to my special needs. This had to be God’s grace at work.

The day of the lesson, my mind raced with questions. Would I be able to maintain my balance in the saddle? How would the horses react to my walker? Would they be frightened by such a loud, shiny contraption on four rattling wheels? What would the other riders think of me?  Short in stature and limited in movement, I was the complete opposite of your typical equestrian--and wondered if the tall, athletic riders dressed so eloquently in their tan breeches and black boots would accept me into the barn?

 With all of these questions galloping through my mind, I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave in to my fears. With that, I took a deep breath, trusted God, and walked into the barn.