An infant cries endlessly in the night for someone to care, a small child watches in horror as her parents violently fight, a toddler is ripped from the only home she has known and has to start all over, hunger aches in the belly of a five year old, a kid is beaten over something stupid, a child wanders the streets and is fed by the gardens of caring neighbors, a young girls weeps as the world whips around her uncontrollably and cruelly, a child who desires acceptance and love is wrongly touched by someone she trusts, a pre-adolescent is tortured and beat up by her peers, a young teenager has to decide whether or not to get involved with bad things- she chooses not to and is rejected, an eighteen year old is violently raped and loses any sense of what goodness was left in this world, a young women tries to end it all.... that girl was me. There was no hope of better.
And then there were the horses. My angels. It was endless hours stealing time in a pasture full of horses who reveled in my presence and greeted me warmly. It was hopping on a loose horse only to get tossed off amid a torrent of laughter. They surrounded me as a kid growing up. My adventures took me miles from home where no one even knew I was gone. The riders would graciously allow me to stroke their horses when they passed by. I knew them all. I would bury my face in their necks and just breathe them in. I knew somehow that someday I would have my very own. It is what kept me going. It was the only hope in a life full of misery and sadness.
I never knew what it was like to have a person in your life who did not hurt you. I never knew a true friend. Until I met the horses. They never picked on me, never hit me, never turned away, never rejected. People were so cruel.
During my childhood several church people reached out to myself and my siblings bringing us to Vacation Bible School and other church events. It was those times that there was a faint glimmer of hope. A light in the darkness. I was too young to really understand all that was laid before me, but I remembered the man who loved people so much he gave his life for them. As a fifteen year old it was spelled out for me clearly that there was a friend that would not leave or forsake me and who loved me the way no human could. In the depths of despair, I chose a better way, a different life than I saw all around me. In a complete meltdown, I asked Jesus to just take it all away, to fix what was broken, and to change my life. I knew I did not want what surrounded me every day. He did.
If I had not made that choice that day, I am certain that I would not be here today. The above small picture of my life does nothing to show the true depravity I endured at the hands of those who were supposed to love and care for me. Without the hope that Christ offered on the cross to us over two thousand years ago, I would have either been killed or would have done the job myself.
My attempted suicide was stopped by a person I have never seen again. It was God's loving hand asking for a chance to really change my life. Then came the gift of my husband and children. The plan was unfolded. Now the kids are grown and forging lives of their own having been raised in a home absent of the horrors I endured and under the umbrella of God's love and protection.
I have known great pain and sorrow, true sorrow. I have also seen what Heaven has to offer. To me, there is no question as to what world I want to be a part of. Just look around you or at the evening news. Then came the desire to offer what I found as a child and young person to today's youth. There is a big hole in families today. There is so much bad in this world. I just want them to peek at the Light...
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My very first horse (at the ripe old age of 19) was a palomino Welsh cross pony with a big ole stubborn streak and a will of his own. I learned much from him, most the hard way. I was badly injured from a fall on the ice a year or so after getting Trigger. I broke both bones in my right arm, ripped up my face, broke a couple teeth and battered myself pretty good. I was in the hospital for days after undergoing surgery I had no insurance to pay for. That fall left me scared in more than one way. I was shaken. I only rode him a couple times after that and ended up just giving him away.
Secondly came a crazy Thoroughbred. That didn't work out so well either. Amid defeated tears, we parted ways. Then came the Morgans. I laid my eyes on my first colorful Morgan in the summer of 2000. I was hooked. There is something about them that reaches into one's soul and wraps it like a warm blanket. We brought home a chestnut colt, gelded him, raised him and later sold him. It was the purchase of Rose that started the dream of raising these special animals.
Today we strive to produce breed-type, old style Morgans with great temperaments and pretty coats. We love to share them with adults and youth.