My twelfth birthday wasn’t what I expected. My dad gave me a present just from him. With a warm smile, he said, “This is something special I picked out for you.”
I tore off the sparkling green paper and opened the box. Inside was a plastic horse, complete with a removable bridle and saddle. “Thanks, Dad,” I mumbled.
He read my reaction. “I understand my gift seems juvenile.” He paused. “This horse is meant to be a reminder for you.”
He had my attention. I lifted the horse from the box and waited for his next words.
“I know you’ve wanted a real horse of your own.” He glanced at my mom. “Your mother told me you prayed for one a couple of years ago.”
I nodded.
Dad tapped the horse with his finger. His brown eyes met mine. “When you have a dream, don’t let it go.”
For a while after that day, the model horse stayed on my bedside table. Then teenage years flew by, followed by busy college days. After graduation, wedding plans consumed me. My childhood dream drifted away, along with Dad’s encouraging words.
Fast forward to 1998—I pulled up to the barn where our youngest daughter stabled her horse and noticed an unfamiliar woman exiting the wide doorway. “Are you Jane?”
“Yes,” I answered, getting out of my car.
She approached with a determined stride. “The stable owner said you might be interested in owning my Quarter-Morgan mare.”
“Whoa! Terry told you that?”
“I’m Trish.” She extended her hand. “Let me explain.” With a fluttery smile, she continued. “I’ve had Lily two years—since she was ten. She’s a lovely bay, very gentle and . . .”
“Then why are you selling her?”
“Well, that’s just it. I’m not. Here’s my dilemma. I’ve purchased a young Thoroughbred gelding. He’s at another barn where I will continue his training.” Her chin quivered. “Truthfully, I can’t afford two horses. That’s why I’m looking for someone who will take Lily and devote their time to her.”
“Trish, I appreciate your situation, but . . .”
She stepped closer. “Will you at least meet Lily?” She looked away. “I haven’t found anyone else . . .” The look on Trish’s face defined crestfallen. “I don’t mean to pressure you, Jane, but Terry urged me to talk to you.”
“Okay. Just let me get a couple of apples from my car.”
“Great!” I noticed Trish relax her shoulders.
As we entered the barn, she pointed to the right. “Lily’s stall is over this way.”
“My daughter Abbie’s horse, Sara, is in the third stall straight ahead,” I said. “I need to check on her first.”
“I’d like to see Sara—if you don’t mind. Terry told me how well you and Abbie care for her.”
Trish stopped abruptly at Sara’s stall. “Oh, she’s an Arabian! Abbie must be a good rider.”
“She is,” I agreed, allowing Sara to nibble the apple from my palm. With a few juicy crunches, she finished her treat.
Though I resolved to politely refuse Trish’s offer, I nevertheless said, “Now, let’s see Lily.”
My resolve vanished the instant Trish announced, “Here she is.”
The memory of my childhood prayer flashed back: Dear God, I want my own horse! It doesn’t have to be beautiful—just mine. Please? Now, my heart pounded as the passage of forty-four years brought me to this moment.
I rubbed Lily’s nose, whispering, “Hello, girl.” She nickered and lost me in her beautiful, soulful eyes. When she caught the scent of the apple in my pocket, the nuzzling began. With ease, she retrieved the Jonagold from the front pouch of my jacket.
Trish interrupted my thoughts. “Take your time with her. I’ll be outside.”
Lily nosed my jacket again. In a swirl of emotion, I wrapped my arms around her neck.
A few minutes later, I found Trish sitting on the weathered bench just outside the barn door. She scooted over as I sat down.
I stared out across the pasture, struggling to process the situation. Finally, I broke the silence. “When was Lily last vetted?”
“Two weeks ago. Here’s the report.”
I scanned the vet’s paperwork. “This is certainly a favorable health assessment.”
Trish’s dark curls bobbed with each nod of her head. “I believe Lily will be perfect for you . . . if you decide to take her.”
“I’ll talk to my husband, Ron—and Terry too.”
“Of course!”
“I’d also like Abbie to ride Lily.”
She tilted her head toward me. “Don’t you want to ride her too?”
“I do. But it’s been forever since I’ve ridden a horse.”
“Lily’s a dream to ride. You won’t have a problem with her.”
A dream to ride. My dad’s words welled up. When you have a dream . . .
I looked at my watch. “Oh, it’s time to pick Abbie up from school.”
Trish stood up. “Could we meet here on Saturday morning? About 10:00?”
“That sounds good. See you then.”
When I picked thirteen-year-old Abbie up, she chattered about her school day. She tapped my arm. “Why are you so quiet?”
I smiled and made a U-turn, heading back to the barn. She grabbed the dash. “What’s up, Mom? You act like you have a secret.”
“I might,” I answered, turning on the lane to the stable.
Through the barn doors, the scent of sweet hay greeted us. I took Abbie’s hand. “Come this way.”
When she saw Lily munching her alfalfa dinner, she said, “Ooooh. Who’s this?” In record time, she heard my story. She scratched under Lily’s chin. “What will Dad think of having two horses in the family?”
After dinner that evening, Abbie sat beside me on the couch, reading her dad’s response as I unfolded the day’s events. At the finish, Ron offered no immediate comment. Abbie looked at me and gave a slight shrug.
We both gave him a hug, though, when he said, “Let’s all go Saturday.” With the steady gaze of his blue eyes, he added, “But we won’t make a rash decision.”
Saturday morning arrived, and we found Trish had saddled Lily for us. She handed Abbie the reins. “Why don’t you ride her first?”
“Sure!” Abbie beamed and led Lily to the pasture. Before mounting, she gently stroked Lily’s forehead, talking softly to her. In the saddle, she urged Lily into a trot, then “kissed” her into a canter. I watched with delight to see our daughter and Lily moving together as one.
Abbie then leaned forward in the saddle and nudged Lily’s sides, asking her to gallop. Lily didn’t respond.
“Is something wrong, Trish?”
“Not at all. Lily just minds her own head.”
“You mean she can be stubborn. Does she buck, kick, or bite?”
“Lily’s never done any of that. She wouldn’t gallop for me the first few times I rode her either. Once she adjusted to me, she was fine.”
Abbie motioned for me to come into the pasture. “It’s your turn, Mom. She’s pretty responsive.”
“But she didn’t gallop for you.”
“Lily needs some time to feel comfortable. That’s all. I’ll help you get on her.”
The kid in me said, Let me up in that saddle! My adult side cautioned, Are you sure you want to do this? My kid-self won. Soon, the rocking chair motion of Lily’s walk lulled me. When I asked her to trot, she didn’t hesitate. I slowed her to a walk again and stopped her at the pasture gate. “Ron, Lily’s ready for you!”
He shook his head, but Abbie took his arm, tugging him toward Lily. “Dad, get on and let her walk around the field.” He consented, and we cheered as he made a couple of circuits.
As Ron dismounted, Terry arrived. “Trish,” I said, “may Abbie continue riding while I talk to Terry?”
“Go ahead. I’ll stay out here with her.”
“Thanks,” I said, motioning for Ron. “Terry,” I called, “I want to talk to you!”
He flashed a big grin. “I see you’ve met Lily.”
“Yes, but can you tell us anything we need to know about this arrangement?”
“You mean about Trish gifting Lily to you?”
“Exactly!”
He pulled at the brim of his cowboy hat. “Honestly, I was taken aback when Trish told me what she had in mind. I thought of you and Abbie right off though.”
“Have you ridden her?”
“No, but I will if you want.”
“How about now? I trust your experience and need your honest opinion.”
I watched Terry ease Lily from the trot to the canter. “Ask her to gallop,” I called. At first, Lily didn’t take his request.
“Look, Mom!” Abbie climbed atop the fence. “Lily’s galloping!”
Lily’s graceful movement around the pasture and the cadence of her hooves made me tear up. When Terry reined her in and dismounted, he handed me the reins. “Jane, Lily is a seasoned mare you can trust.”
I looked at Ron, who gave me a nod. I turned to Trish. “We’ll be happy to take Lily.”
Trish clasped her hands together. “I know you won’t be disappointed.”
Just a few weeks later, I decided on a solo afternoon ride. Sunshine and a tickling breeze enhanced our walk around the pasture trail. Lily cantered easily for me, encouraging my confidence. Then without warning, my fourteen-hands-high wonder broke into a full gallop. All I could do was hold on. I tried not to give way to panic, but going airborne struck me as a real possibility. Resisting the urge to jerk the reins back hard, I hollered, “Whoa, Lily! Slow up, girl!”
Chris, one of the barn hands, jogged up to the gate, calling, “Take her down easy, Jane. Hold her steady!”
Lily seamlessly reduced her speed and halted. I slid out of the saddle with great relief. Chris came to my side and took the reins. “Get back on Lily.”
“I’m still shaking. Maybe another day.”
Chris put the reins in my hands. “I’ve exercised Lily for Trish several times, and she’s never galloped for me.” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “This mare likes you and is beginning to trust you.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re right. Give me a leg up.”
Chris walked beside us as we headed to a nearby round pen. “Now, relax, Jane. Trot Lily around a little. That way both of you can settle down. My advice? Keep riding. That will strengthen the bond between you and Lily.”
A couple of months later, Lily and I joined three other riders on a riding trail. In the lead, an acquaintance rode a young Pinto named Jasper. The others followed along as Lily and I brought up the rear.
Suddenly, the trail turned to a steep incline. Jasper planted himself, refusing to climb. Clods of dirt tumbled down. That spooked the other two horses. The first tried to rear up, causing the one in front of Lily to draw back, threatening to bolt.
While those horses snorted, seeking escape, Lily stood her ground. I relaxed the reins, giving her permission to move out around the fray. Without hesitation, she took the lead and plodded up the rise. The timid steeds settled down and fell right in line behind Mama Lily.
One of the riders called, “Your mare is something! How did you train her to react like that?”
I ran my fingers through Lily’s black mane. “I didn’t. Her original owner told me she minds her own head. Today, I discovered what she meant.”
After putting Lily in her stall that evening, I gave her an apple and let her find the carrot in my hip pocket. The closeness we shared flooded my heart.
One fall day, a riding friend invited Abbie and me to trailer our horses to an outdoor riding event for the local children’s hospital. “They are sponsoring ‘Happy Day’ for kids and their parents,” Diane explained. “The children will enjoy ‘walking rides’ around the venue.”
Abbie and I nodded together. “We’d love to do this,” I said.
Diane studied us both. “You know many of these children suffer severe illnesses. Their parents have signed waivers so their kids can participate, but . . . it could be a tough day for our hearts.”
My heart couldn’t resist. “Diane, a day of fun might make a great difference for these children.”
How incredible that outing proved to be! For more than three hours, children of all ages took turns riding. Many parents walked alongside their children. One father remarked, “My boy hasn’t smiled this much in a long while.” Between rides, children pressed as close as possible to Lily. Their excitement shone in their eyes, and she added to their glee by nickering. I rejoiced that gentle Lily brought such joy to kids who also needed it.
Toward the end of the day, I noticed a little girl in leg braces. She stood with her mother, back from the other children.
I smiled. “Would you like to ride Lily?” She gave me a shy grin and looked up at her mother.
“Come meet my horse. You’ll like her.”
“Okay,” she said, taking her mother’s hand.
Her mom held her up to meet Lily face-to-face. “Tell Lily your name.”
“Hi, Lily. I’m Coleen.” She touched Lily’s nose. “I’m eight.”
I exchanged a smile with her mother. “Do you want to ride Lily now?”
“Yes,” Coleen answered with a sweet voice.
My patient mare never flinched as Coleen’s mom lifted her into the saddle. Cumbersome leg braces posed no problem for Lily.
On her third trip around, Coleen stretched herself forward on Lily’s neck. “Hold on to her mane with both hands,” I said, showing her how.
“Will that hurt Lily?”
I glanced across at Coleen’s mother, whose eyes glistened. “No, Coleen. You won’t hurt her at all.”
“Lily, you’re the nicest horsey!”
For two more poignant years, my incredible mare continued to prove she was the first and only horse I ever needed. I have an inkling my dad might say, “Your youthful dream faded away, but the Lord remembered and brought Lily to you right on time.”