Many people tend to make positive resolutions to mark the start of a new year and new chapter in life. I’m not big on new year’s resolutions myself, but the start of a new year did cause me to reflect on the idea of new beginnings and seasons in life. An upcoming “new” thing for both Tuff and I is his relocation to a barn much closer to my home. I have been so incredibly fortunate to have had him at an amazing facility with tons of excellent resources, but the idea that he will very soon be somewhere that I see him every day makes the move bittersweet. And each time that trepidation and self doubt begin to set in – “Really? I’m going to be his sole caretaker? Can I do this? Do I really remember the difference between the pastern and the fetlock? Will his new farrier have ANY idea what they’re doing??**” (insert melodramatic scream here) – and the nervous panic arises in my stomach, I remind myself that this was always the end goal…to have him near or with me all the time.
It’s easy to let that self doubt and worry creep in. Prone to semi-chronic worrying anyway, I can come up with a myriad of reasons why something this simple – and inevitable – is “scary.” As I led Tuff out of his stall tonight for an evening stroll around the property, I heard the high pitched, desperate whinny of the young colt in the stall next to him. He was missing his friend. After grinning widely at how darn cute it was, I realized that he sounded just like me. Not because of the frenzied whinny, but in the desperate and panicked cries of someone experiencing a sudden shift out of the comfortable – or at least the familiar – into the unknown. I do it all the time. Because no matter how much I may need that change – in all its nerve-wracking, nail-biting newness – I still balk and question whether or not I’ll really be able to handle it, or it will really be good for me.
A lot of the horses at PHH are in desperate need of a new beginning. Their scars and wounds sometimes long remain visible to the eye. But their resilience in spite of those hurts is astounding. And that gives me courage. One often has to dig through those old hurts and glance occasionally at those scars to be reminded of why they have to keep moving forward, no matter how scary and lonely it may feel. Isn’t it funny how easy it is for us humans to settle into a place that may not at all be good for us, but because it’s what we know, it’s just easier to stay put? At least horses seem to understand the concept of no turning back.
I led Tuff back into the barn and smiled as the little colt shoved his nose out of his stall in relieved greeting to his friend. But the truth is, he had stopped whinnying before we even got back. He may not have liked the change, he may have resisted and worried over it, but he survived. I guess there’s something for me to learn there too.
**Note: One of the best resources Tuff and I have had on our journey in the last couple of years is the service of our farrier, Shane Westman. Committed to the care and well-being of each horse, he has taken on Tuff’s special needs case with a brave face. He and his wife have a dynamic duo business together and I encourage you to check them out: http://westmanequine.com. Shane, I tip my proverbial hat to you, good sir.
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kristinbrown
