Horse Sense

At long last, one of my dreams is realized - thanks to an over-generous birthday cheque, I have purchased a horse of my very own!
As a girl I pictured myself on a proud Arabian - neck arched, glossy hair flying like a banner... and the horse would look good, too. Then, after befriending a surly Tennessee Walker in college, that became my breed of choice, which is further confirmed by the temporary use of my dad's (also somewhat surly) Walker. It's like riding a Rolls Royce compared to a VW Beetle of a quarter horse.

My horse, however, is none of these breeds. I saw her on a facebook livestock sale site, and fell in love with her. I'd say she suits me just right - curious, a little stubborn, talkative, in love with food, and... big boned.
I bought myself a Fjord.
Now, this breed is not like a Ford compared to a Rolls Royce compared to a VW. It's more like... a Sherman tank. Painted pink.

The Fjord is an old breed from Norway, rugged and sweet tempered. They will forage and fatten on weeds that other horses won't touch, and they've been known to out-pull large draft horses. My Willow was likely on her way to the slaughterhouse, since she'd been bought at auction once already, somewhat misused, and no-one seemed to want her. She's a bargain-basement pony.

Apparently she's broke to drive, but the folks I got her from had a bit of a disaster with her, and I can hardly get near her with a rope. Perhaps she knows how to pull, but she's not had good experiences with it. My goal is to have her ready to pull a sleigh by next Christmas, and hopefully I can ride her next summer. Right now her plump, broad back just begs me to jump up there, but the look on Willow's face reminds me to take it slow.

Which brings me around to my point. I got to thinking about the parallels between horse training, and the way God works with us. I heard a story once about a man who trained horses to jump off high diving boards into a pool of water - an act completely foreign to a horse's natural inclination. When questioned on how such a feat was accomplished, he replied that he started the horse with tiny steps - then tiny jumps, slowly working up to the big dive. But he never let the horse fall. Each horse learned to trust him completely and obey without question, knowing that the trainer would never let them down.

This is how I'm trying to work with Willow. She's terribly head-shy, stretching out her neck and lips to take a treat, then jerking her head away if I try to pet her face. So I continue to pet her a little more, and scratch her forehead, working up to the time when she'll trust me enough to let me flap a plastic bag near her face. I'm not going to suddenly poke her in the eye.
And I've seen God working the same way with me. He continues to ask me for small jumps - little acts of obedience that may seem a bit frightening, a bit contrary to my natural inclination. But when I trust Him and step out in faith, He doesn't let me down. And the more I obey, the more I trust Him, the less afraid I am, and the circus of my life can keep progressing to greater obstacles and triumphs. I can rest assured that my loving Trainer will never let me fall.