December 10, 2005, I waited with the excitement of a kid at Christmas for Reecie to arrive.
I spent part of the day getting a vacant stall prepped and bedded with a thick layer of pine shavings. Hay lay waiting, fluffed up in the corner, fresh buckets of water hung on the hooks inside the stall. The comforts of home.
My saddle, halter, brushes, and other horse tack were already stored in a tidy, organized manner inside one of the lockers in the tack room.
After a long day of preparation and activity, for Jan, getting Reecie ready to travel and the drive down from her foster home, and for me to receive her, the trailer pulls into the barnyard well after nightfall. The lights from the barn, and the arena, cast shadows from the trees, the buildings, and the horse trailer.
Reecie stepped off the trailer, looked around her, head high, whinnied, probably wondering where she was and where her friends were. The answers to that — “this is your new home with new friends.” Jan and I walked her around the barnyard for a few minutes to loosen up after the long trailer ride and to allow her the opportunity to begin to sort out her new surroundings.
In the stall, I brushed her until I felt she’d adjusted well enough to being confined in the stall. When she lowered her head to eat the hay, I knew it would be okay to leave so I gave her a final pat for the night. Stepping out of the stall, I slid the door into place and latched it closed.
At the barn entryway, I flipped the light switch on my way to the car and paused, breathing in the fragrance of horse barn (my favorite aroma) – the smells of warm horse, hay, pine shavings, leather. The soft, comforting sounds of horses shuffling in the shavings and the grinding of hay as they chewed, caused me to linger a moment longer in the darkened doorway. I too, viewed this as the comforts of home. Still do.
The next day, a Sunday, Reecie and I played for a couple of hours, doing games she already understood — leading over poles, and around objects. Practicing the words “walk” and “whoa” with her beside me, my hands on the lead rope attached to her halter. Brushing her coat.
Next it was time to meet the new friends. Since horses hold a particular hierarchy in their herd dynamics, Susan suggested putting both Reecie and the other horse my husband started fostering, ChaCha, into the herd pasture at the same time. Putting in two new horses together would reduce any “get acquainted” stress, as the herd had their attention divided while trying to sort out who was going to be the boss.
Reecie spent her days in the pasture with ChaCha and the rest of the herd, but during the winter nights she was taken into her stall in the barn. I even bought her a blanket to add to her comfort level during the colder months of January and February.
Our relationship grew, developed, and became more consistent through these early weeks. Because of the weather, and my job, we spent only about an hour together several times a week. Susan, a knowledgeable horsewoman, had people who shared feeding duties (including my husband and me), so I knew Reecie was well cared for during my absence. Enjoying the comforts of home.
In Reflection ~
The stall with its thick bed, the hay, clean water, new companions, a warm blanket, playing games, brushing her — all served to demonstrate my love and care for Reecie.
Consider the many ways the Lord shows His love and care for us — through places, people, experiences . . . the beauty of a smile, a sunset, the sounds of birdsong, a soft summer rain, even the fragrances we enjoy. His creation displays His tender mercies. In His presence we feel the comforts of Home.
“You, Lord, will not withhold Your compassion from me; Your mercy and Your truth will continually watch over me, ” Psalm 40:11 (NASB).
“Because of the tender mercy of our God …,” Luke 1:78 (NASB).
paynefulponderings 