Yesterday's Ride

The “Old Tyler Highway” stretched endlessly ahead as my horse and I started our four hour ride at The Mineola Preserve. 

The wet mush under Traveler's hooves gradually became thick mud, and I started to feel a little lonely as the ground got lower and more difficult to travel.  Then four angels appeared - on horses of course.  Angels in the form of people,  all of whom were about 15 years older than myself.  It isn’t often that I come across  geriatric riders - one with pure white hair - sitting astride their saddles as if the thought of arthritis  had never entered their minds!   I joined their entourage as we made our way out of the mud, back up to  where I started. Enjoying their banter, I silently smiled, thanking the Lord for riding companions.  Their kindness to include me touched my heart.

We rode along paths on high ground that I hadn’t seen for years, and the views were serene and beautiful.  It was so much fun.  

At one point, we had to slog through some marshy water and Traveler did something he has only gotten away with one other time. I thought he was dropping his head to sneak a sip to drink, but HE LAID DOWN in the ice cold water.  The last time that happened, I was riding with strangers, too, but it was a very hot day.  SO FUNNY.  He will not be getting away with this again for a long time!  (Though I took it all in stride, I was happy to get my wet socks off when I got home.)

How grateful I am for the blessing of a long ride on a beautiful day with new friends.  In my community, my role is usually that of mentor.   It was nice to be in the company of those who have lived longer than me. They have probably dealt with some of the battles that press upon me and they have lived through them all.  This comforts my heart.

We will all get through whatever it is that is bogging us down.  We will get where He is taking us and He will not forsake us there.  He will lead us by the hand, and though we may look back and wonder how, it will all be okay in the end.

It was a great ride.

Tears

Yesterday, I was broadsided with the pain of an already grieved loss. It unapologetically imposed itself upon me and demanded the release of unquenchable tears. The sight of a person associated with the death of my mom triggered something seemingly dormant, but was evidently alive and well within. Why would I be surprised? It would have been so easy to just walk in the other direction, but the innocent act of speaking and acknowledging my mom's former nurse opened the door to the hidden torrent within.

I almost always enjoy the cathartic event of crying, but when the need to sob materializes while trying to check out at Sam's, causing me to forget my PIN and flustering the cashier, the joy of release threatens to be lost! How many times have tears gotten stuck behind my eyes, taunting me with the pressure, but refusing to be released? Their secret joy must be in taking me by surprise, reducing me to a sniveling little old lady whose fragility seems to elicit a hug from the pubescent girl behind the counter.

Not that I was ashamed to cry, everybody needs to cry, being that tears are a gift. When a good howl is needed, it's just better to be safely hidden away with ones cats, horses, dogs, or people, whomever has the power to comfort most. Who knows how many tears live inside? Maybe they are hiding in there, just waiting to yell, "Surprise! You thought you were fine! Ha ha, we gotchya!"

Maybe tears are a sign of life, kind of like an emotional pulse. To let them flow, embracing one's humanness in the middle of consumer land is probably not so bad, so I lifted my head and I cried. No longer was I just one more person hurrying through the line, but a girl grieving for her mother. These tears were a gift. I spoke through them, smiled through them, and let them flow as the young girl counted my items at the door and highlighted my receipt. They refreshed my face as I walked through the dark parking lot, and reminded  me that I am grateful for the arms of God, a wonderful husband and sisters to call. And call them I did, and then I cried some more.

Life is good, even with its pain; I am happy to be alive, grateful to have had parents to miss.  Thankful for the years I was able to take care of them. Humbled that I was present as they were ushered into eternity. 

Starting another day, will tears once again present themselves? I'll let you know.