To say I had been bitten by the riding bug was a huge
understatement. I was completely enamored with the sport, and it was all I
could think about and talk about. I went from riding just one day a week to riding
three and four. I read books about riding. I watched movies about horses. I
searched the internet for any information that would further expand my
knowledge. I studied the methods of Clinton Anderson, signed up for horse
clinics, and followed every group about horses on Facebook and other social
media sites. Then, I started browsing through catalogs and magazines looking at
tack and saddles.
Not long after I began riding Jet, I started explaining to Mom
the importance of having my own saddle.
“Mom,” I pleaded with her day after day, “Every rider has to
have a saddle… one that fits their body and their horse to a T. I’m not asking
for a horse, just a saddle that I can call my very own, one that conforms to my
body, one just for me.”
She insisted that I keep riding for a while longer to make
sure that I would stick with the sport. She knew me well (I got frustrated
rather easily and tended to jump from activity to activity) and wasn’t willing
to invest the money until she was absolutely sure this was going to be more
than just another hobby on an extended list of failed interests. It wasn’t long, however, that she realized this
was not just another activity…this was my growing passion, my way to independence
and my ticket to freedom.
The day came after graduation when I had finally saved up
enough money to be able to go to the tack room pick out my very own saddle. Dayna
came with me to guide me and help decide which saddle would be the perfect fit
for all my needs. I had started riding English and working on some dressage, so
I had a pretty good idea of what I was looking for, but the options were
endless. There were English and western, synthetic and leather, jumping saddles,
dressage saddles, all-purpose saddles, close contact saddles, one for every
discipline, not to mention the choice of colors, primarily black or brown. It
was very overwhelming to say the least. We spent about two and half hours
trying various ones, eliminating some rather quickly, and trying some more than
once. We got the giggles as Mom and Dayna lifted me on and off the mounting “horse”
about two hundred times, and I quickly learned the proper technique for
gracefully falling off a “horse” as I was slung on and off, off and on! Thankfully,
the sales associate had not only worked with disabled riders but also had a great
sense of patience and humor, and after much consideration, I decided on a
beautiful black suede Wintec Dressage saddle. My joy was multiplied when I
found out that the tack store was giving me a free monogrammed silver name
plate to be installed on the seat of MY saddle, leaving no doubt who was the
proud owner of such a beautiful treasure.
Growing up, I could never understand why my brother loved
football so much. He was always so excited when he got his new jersey with his
number for that season, and he would proudly spread his helmet, pads, and other
equipment across the garage after each game. I remember many times thinking,
“What’s the big deal? It’s just a sport, ” but now, as I walked out of the store with my
first official piece of equipment, my eyes had been opened to his world. I could fully grasp and comprehend the joy he
felt when playing his beloved sport. I wanted to take my saddle everywhere and
show everyone. I wanted to spread it out across the middle of the floor for all
to see. I had truly become an obnoxious
equestrian.
That saddle elevated my level of confidence and my own
personal feelings of self-worth. From the moment I first tacked up Jet with my
new purchase, I felt like a rite of passage had occurred, as if I were truly
part of the team. I was so proud to be able to participate in a physical
activity, but I quickly realized that riding was so much more than just a sport.
It was not just about the tack, or being part of the group. It was about
discovering me, who I was, and God’s purpose for my life
Through this experience, the Lord opened up so many doors
and taught me so many valuable lessons. I gained a whole new perspective on
life. I found a network of friends who genuinely love me and value my friendship;
I had the opportunity to participate rather than just observe from the
sidelines; I learned how it felt to have every muscle in your body ache after a
long, hard intensive workout; I learned to support my fellow athletes in their
own personal struggles, successes, and feats; I learned that it is not the
quantity of friends you have but the quality. However, I think the most
important lesson I learned was one that could never be taught: self-acceptance.
There was a time in my life when I wanted to change each and everything about
myself. In fact, I wanted to be someone totally different. I had the hardest
time understanding why God would heal others and not me. Had I done something
wrong? Was He mad at me? Did He not love me?
To think back on it,
I can’t believe I ever had any doubt of His love for me. He showed His love and mercy in something far
better than any kind of physical healing. He showed me through the healing and renewing
of my heart, mind and soul; He showed me that what you think you need and want
is often not what you really need or
want at all. He showed me that His healing love can come through anything, and
in my case, it was through a horse.
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