Frusterations

Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because suffering produces perserverance; perserverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not dissapoint us...
~Romans 5:3-5a

I've been thinking a lot about my horse and the misadventures we've been through since we bought him back in September of 2006. It's been a rough and rocky road...but you all know the story. If you dont, and actually care, email me. If you dont know my email, too bad for you.
Throughout this post are a timeline, I guess, of pictures of Smokey. The picture at the very top is the oldest, before I ever knew Smokey; the last was taken today, outside in his stall, bandaged up after his accident.


But wait - why does he look gorgeous in the first picture and look like crap in the second?!?
I have no idea. You'd have to ask the old owner.
We purchased Smokey looking like he did in the second picture (smart, huh?). We had no idea he was ever so beautiful. I stumbled across the first picture looking my horse up on the internet. The first picture was taken before his old owner got a hold of him. Every time I see those pictures, I just about break down and cry. How could someone do that to such a beautiful horse (any horse!)?? How could someone buy a horse looking so good and watch him fade away before their eyes?? It reminds me of the TobyMac song, "Gone"...

I wanna know, wanna know what you were thinkin'
I can't imagine how you didn't even see it...

How could she have not seen what she was doing to her horse?? How he was degenerating right in front of her? Did she care? Did she even try to help him?


If she could see him now, what would she think? Would she feel awful for letting him get to the point she did, knowing he could have looked like he does now? Would she be glad that he's better? Maybe she'd regret selling him at all...

...You never know what you've got 'till it's gone.

But she probably wouldn't regret. She got fifty-five hundred for a lame horse. She knew he was lame, but didnt tell us. She'd just be glad to get rid of him..."those suckers can deal with him."
Ya, we did. We took care of him. What a concept! Now he's beautiful. Everywhere we go we find people who have to stop and tell me how much they like my horse. I bet nobody ever stopped her at a horse show to say "Oh wow, I love your horse! He's gorgeous!"
But it was a long road getting there. Ten days at the university, six weeks on stall rest, months and months of training...failures, plenty of failures. Tears of joy and pain. It seems I've lived the happiest, saddest and most terrifying of my life experiences since Smokey's come into my life.
The day I brought him home was my happiest, of course. I finally had a horse of my own! The dream twelve years in the making was finally coming true. I had my own horse! I remember waking up that morning and just knowing this horse was gonna be different than the auto-pilot show horses I'd looked at buying. And we took him home the next day.
When we took him to his first lesson the day after he came home, and he was so lame he could hardly walk around comfortably...I cried so hard. In the middle of my lesson, I broke down. My riding instrctor, whom I've left recentlly for a different barn and havn't been on great terms with since, said something that day I wont ever forget, despite the disagreements between us...

Look toward the future. Don't worry about the moment; the moment doesn't matter. It's the future that counts. ~MJ

And, ten weeks later, our future was already looking brighter.
I remember the fear, the most parylizing fear I'd ever experienced, as I watched Smokey running out of the arena the day of our first show. I was so stupid. He could have hurt himself so bad, or worse, and it was all my fault. Why didn't I lunge him?!? Why was I so ignorant as to think I didn't need to lunge my 5-year-old who'd never been to a show? I remember Mom saying as she helped me mount, "Do not let him buck you off." I promised her I wouldn't. I broke my promise about a half a mintue later. I tried to scream, to call him back to me, but for that moment, I no longer existed in his world. And I'm not sure if my screams came out in more than a whisper, anyway. I don't know if the rest of the people in the arena could hear me desperatly calling his name, or if they thought I was moving as slowly as I felt I was. But either way, he wasn't hurt. By some God-given miracle, he was ok.


When I took him to his next show, I was so proud. He survived both his halter classes without hurting himself or others. He was a spaz, as to be expected, and he didnt come anywhere near a ribbon, but who cares? He didn't get loose and try to take off, either.
When we switched riding stables and started taking lessons at our new barn, I really thought things were looking up. I thought we'd be back in the showring by the end of this month; I'd already filled out the showbill for one on the 28th. Smokey and I were doing so well; our new instructor had taught us so much so fast. I just knew this time would be a new experience for us.
It was an experience, all right. But not the one I was hoping for.


On the 14th, Smokey sqewered himself on fencing wire, and is now laid up for two weeks. Why did this happen again? Why can't he keep himself out of trouble? I look at the jagged barbed wire scars on his chest, and the long, thin scar running down the length of his neck on the right side...is he prone to doing this? Does he run through fences just for kicks? He enjoys taking his daily dose of thirty antibiotic pills so much that I once joked to my sister, "He hurts himself just so he can take the drugs." But seriously...is this what made him lame in the first place? A much worse accident involving a barbed wire fence?
But even with all these unanswered questions, and all these painful memories...more good has come out of it than bad. Smokey is the horse I've always wanted; even if he can't last a week without some near-fatal injury. Even if I can't take him out in public without causing some sort of uproar, I love him so much. I still cringe when I see how beautiful he was before, and how faded and weak he was when we took him home...but then I see him out in the pasture, running throught he pasture, thankful for everything he's been given. He never takes a day for granted, and it's something he's taught me about life; no matter how bad your past was, no matter what kind of pain you've been through, what's important is where you are now, and where you're going next.


I love you, Smokey. Now and always, no matter what.


And Smokey loves cameras. Now and always, no matter what.