Bridge Called Hope (24 page)

Sevi and Chloe, sensing that I had completely stilled, followed suit and curled up nose to stubby tail on randomly blown piles of pine needles. With the wind as my witness and hope as my guide, the lingering resistance that once gripped my heart began to crumble away. In the stillness, I could feel it falling until it dashed against the rocks beneath my feet and shattered into irreparable fragments over the melting snow.

Sometimes clarity happens in the most unlikely places—on a mountaintop, in the shower, in bed before sleep, or driving to complete an errand. My time on the ridge-top enforced within me that sometimes it is our “bruising,” our weakness, that is truly the most powerful and honest truth we can share. Perhaps it is enough to encourage others by simply stating, “Friends, here are some of the areas where I have fallen. Let me take your hand and guide you around these perils that … by stepping forward in faith … you will be sure to encounter.”

The hosting of Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch’s first “Information Clinic” was incredible! Because of the ranch’s limited size, we thought that between forty to fifty participants would be a good fit. Nearly one hundred people came from twenty-three states and Canada! I felt more like royalty than a rancher, as each came bearing their own irreplaceable gifts of blessing to my heart. Within the first hour of gathering together, most of us agreed that this truly felt more like a
family reunion
than a clinic.

During each of the four days of the clinic, the participants were deluged with every angle of information we could think of that might be of help to them. Together we shared our dreams, laughed at each other’s humorous vignettes, worked hard to learn
new concepts, ate many meals, and even sang around a fire.

Each unique individual’s story seemed to weave seamlessly into the next, all together creating an indescribably beautiful tapestry of selflessness, sacrifice, and love. Rarely have I been surrounded by so many individuals who were so focused and united in their pursuit to become a light in their world, to grow where they were “planted,” and to offer hope, love, and healing to those around them … through their
own
sacrifice.

As I lay in bed during those nights of the clinic, I couldn’t help but look up through the window at the night sky. The clinic participants were just like this, I thought. Cast against such blackness, they were indeed stars radiating hope through a gloomy void. They were sharing with those around them, literally shining, that hope will continue to provide points of light through even the darkest night, guiding the way until dawn’s first rays promise the herald of a new day. There will
always
be a new day.

They moved me, every one of them.

Perhaps what I thought were some of the most interesting parts of the clinic were the “demonstration classes.” Sprinkled throughout each day were hands-on demonstrations of how to train your horses, how to train yourselves, how to communicate with kids, how to organize a volunteer program, and how to build a supportive staff, just to name a few.

One demonstration that for me, eleven years of observing has not diminished in the least, was watching the farrier trim hooves. Sue is not only a remarkable woman but a remarkable farrier as well. Because she is such an engaging teacher, I always come away with something new from our time spent together.

Often, Sue relates horse hooves to our personal lives, linking the two by how important it is to stay balanced. What might
seem like a minor disparity in the hoof can translate up the horse’s leg into real trouble. How true that principle can be in our own lives with things that we might delude ourselves into believing that “it’s no big deal” or “it doesn’t affect anyone but me.” Eventually, if unattended, our personal imbalances will reveal themselves in some pretty unpleasant ways.

Probably what I love most about watching Sue correct, reshape, and balance a hoof is how she handles bruises. As awful and debilitating as they may appear in the sole of a horse’s hoof, they can be carefully managed. Of all the times that I have watched my dear friend carve away bruises, I am always amazed at the renewal, the fresh perfection that lies waiting to be revealed just beneath the sight of a painful experience.

As the clinic drew to a close, many expressed their gratitude with emotion, laughter, and quietly revealed dreams. Within the four days of sharing information, I was continually amazed at what precious gems of wisdom were mined by these individuals from what often seemed to me like nothing more than a simple matrix.

One woman, in a rare vignette of silence, shared with me that she had an epiphanal moment during the clinic. I watched her intently as she began to describe her unique experience. She was a slender woman with dark features. As she started to share, I could clearly see that this was going to be costly for her. From the very first few words, she worked hard to control her emotions. In a not-so-steady voice, she recounted how this powerful moment came while watching Sue trim a hoof.

In a strong yet quiet voice, she shared that just recently her own dream—her own life’s work—had been crushed. “I used to do something very similar to what you are doing now,” she softly said. “Within two days, it was all gone … 
everything
. Everything I had worked so hard for, everything I believed in, was taken away in a single moment.”

Her gaze seemed to be fixed on the letters I held in my hand. “When I came here, I was so deeply bruised, she continued. “My life felt like it could never be the same again. Perhaps I came to this clinic because I needed to believe that somehow my hurting heart could change into something usable again. Maybe I just needed to see with my own eyes that miracles really do still happen.”

Visibly, she softened for a moment before simply stating, “God is so good. Two days ago I stood in a semicircle of about twenty-five people and watched a horse’s hoof being trimmed. As Sue scraped the sole, she revealed a large purple bruise. As I studied the bruise, it suddenly occurred to me that I was looking at myself! Yep, that is just like my heart right there … one big, hideous bruise. I found myself staring at it and just feeling overwhelming sorrow.

“But then something remarkable happened,” she said, in rising revelation. “Sue picked up her hoof knife and began to
carefully cut into the bruised area. She explained that as awful as a bruise can look and feel … 
time always proves what is true.
‘A bruise needs to be
absorbed
,’ Sue clarified. ‘After the hoof grows out away from the once damaged vessels, the dead tissue needs to be removed.’

“And then with two expertly placed cuts from her hoof knife … the horrible bruise that at one time had caused so much pain … was gone … completely
gone!
What lay beneath it was a beautiful, brand-new white hoof! I didn’t know until that moment that my heart was going to be just like that hoof.”

The woman looked directly at my eyes and beamed, “I realized during that moment that I must
absorb
and learn from my ‘bruise.’ ”

I fully understood what she was trying to say. Immediately I could think of dozens of times when this principle was true in my life as well. When we are caught in a season of feeling bruised and in pain, it is often difficult at that time to believe we can feel any other way. Pain is crushing, blinding, paralyzing. It is not unlike the venom of a predator, meant only to numb its prey into uselessness. There, in that “feeling useless” place, we have a choice to make. We can decide to stay paralyzed in our pain, or we can decide to take steps toward our healing.

Sometimes within our healing process some “dead flesh” needs to be excised away. Sometimes the knife of the Maker is needed to release us from our “dead spots” that hold us back from an
honest
recovery. This might smart a bit at the time, but what is revealed beneath that deadness is
always
worth the choice.

The woman’s eyes gradually began to soften as she took a deep breath before continuing. “Now I understand that the next cutting away of my ‘deadness’ might be the last release of
my pain from this particular ‘blow.’ Perhaps,” she paused for a long breath, “the next swipe of our Lord’s knife will reveal a fresh newness within me that wasn’t there before.”

She began to smile as she realized the wisdom of her own words. “Until now, I never really understood that the most beautiful thing about a bruise … is that they come … and last until they are absorbed … and then they
go
!”

David, age 11: “If I could choose between playing
my favorite video games for a week straight or going
to the ranch … I would always choose the ranch.”

N
ever in all my years of operating the ranch have I ever experienced such severe “buyers remorse.” I had just purchased a very short, very chubby Appaloosa mare. Shonee was certainly cute enough within her roly-poly white body that was completely freckled with black spots. Yet the true reason for the sale by her previous owner—of one week—was the mare’s nearly complete refusal to turn or stop at her rider’s request. Certainly, those are both truly important features for a kid’s horse to have!