It goes without saying that horse accidents can leave us in grave fear. Such was the case with our young guest here. She hadn’t ridden in 6 months since her accident. She and her family were visiting from the vast cowboy country of Wyoming when they learned about Son Bride Ranch and paid a visit in hope to overcome her fear of riding again. As purpose would have it, we had the perfect horse and team of horsemen around for her so she could do just that. She literally lit the arena along with our faces having her confidence return. The day was sealed with a kiss while we were happy to send her back to Wyoming both with a gleaming smile on her face and a handle on her fear.

Our young guest has, by now, figured out there is something greater than the ride and the accomplishments therein. It's the bond. Without the bond we seek an insatiable thirst for rides which often turn up empty over time. With the bond we seek to love and to be loved. This almost always happens with the special ingredient of trust. Consequently, the ride often qualifies as a thing of Heaven. What we know for sure is that this little princess wears that Heaven on her face every time she's with this particular horse.

This little guy lost his mama… but left in the best of hands. Reminds me of our own losses. We lose someone or something so dear but we have all of Heaven rallying to care for us nonetheless to ensure our safety, growth, and prosperity in every way. He doesn’t know fully what our presence means. He doesn’t know shifts have been divided to keep watch of him. He doesn’t know his feed cost nor the sleep lost. He doesn’t know that his loss has attracted Heaven’s eye and hands on care. He cannot identify yet that this is love. And nor can we in the jaws of loss and hurt. But God knows… along with the angels he places around us who make certain that we thrive regardless. In between those teardrops, I wonder which angels are present. Just believe… they are surely there.

I'll never forget it...my first time riding Virginia. I was just a little country kid from GA who'd been recently transplanted in southwest FL. Much had changed. I'd come from a dense agricultural environment. My family had spent most of their lives on a farm. Much of what we ate, we either grew, hunted, or fished for. My two favorite hideouts and favorite places to be were the nearby sale barn and the dam supported creek tucked a little deep in Georgia's woods that I was forbidden to go to. Who can say no to a good-sized creek in the dead of of Georgia summer that had plenty of room for me to swim along with enormous carp, snapping turtles, soft shell turtles, lamp eels, catfish, beaver, and water moccasins. Yep...water moccasins were the reason I was forbidden. My grandma declared all my childhood that there was a water moccasin bed in the creek. I could never tell her that all the years I'd been sneaking down there to swim, I'd never saw one. However, I saw plenty of rattle snakes on the way there and heard talk of old folks about gators and cougars in the area. We kids knew how the old folks around there were...scared of everything having to do with fun. Therefore, we simply couldn't listen to everything they said. I was a complete country Georgia boy in every sense of the phrase right until tragedy struck.