My Spotted Love

Love never ends. As for prophesies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. So now, faith, hope, and love abide, but the greatest of these is love.

I Corinthians 13:8-13

My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.

Job 42:5

Tonight I had the privilege to stay with my dear friend to the end.  His eyes are open now, after so many years of dimness and darkness.  He could hear, and now I hope he is seeing his best friend, my darling Speckles.  Joey held me together after I lost Speckles.  I loved Joey before, but that grief bonded us together in a special way.  Truly the greatest gift is love.  So now I would like to remember, to grieve, to celebrate this special boy, Joey.

I got to know Joey while I trained his pasture mate, Speckles.  He was my protector on days when Speckles lashed out in pain.  Yes, I felt silly hiding behind the blind horse, but Joey ... well there was something so safe and solid about him.  And Speckles would never hurt Joey -  he loved him.  

On that dark day when Speckles died, we drove back from the vet, and I asked if I could train Joey.  I needed him and he needed me.  For about two months, I would just go stand with him in the middle of the field, sometimes for an hour.  I'd put my hands on him and he would lean into me, and we would just grieve together.

Then as time went by, we began to communicate. The road was bumpy at times.  First, he became so peaceful with me, so trusting, that he would fall asleep as soon as we stopped moving - he was so exhausted after grieving for his friend.  As he recovered, I started to give him vocal cues, and he started flourishing with a new vocabulary. But he was a strong willed horse - I used to say that his blindness was a gift to Hope Reins.  He was so high spirited that I think he might have been a bit too much for us if he was sighted and younger!  As it was, the first time I gave him the vocal command for "back" and then tried to get him to go back, he decided to rear and snort ferociously.  Hm.  Scary.  We tried again, same result!  So we stopped for a couple of days.  Then we tried again - same result, but I kept trying... and suddenly he stopped and cocked his head, taking a cautious step back.  Bingo!  He made that connection and realized that I wanted to talk with him!  Suddenly he was listening and processing in that super intelligent head of his - and he soooo wanted to learn. Soon he had a stop command (1,2,3 whoa), back (back), and lunge (head).  I had to say his name like a drill sergeant to gain his respect, but once I had it, he never looked back.

Joey was actually responsible for my most embarrassing moment at the farm, though thankfully no one was there to see it. I was leading him out of his field and turned, and suddenly he stepped on my boot.  Joey is a big boy, and wow that hurt!  I forgot all horsemanship and started yelling "Get off my foot get off my foot get off my foot!!!!"  He was concerned and leaned in towards me.  Groan!  I did a bit more yelling and waving of the arms, and finally ended up holding onto his neck, crying from the pain.  Then I finally came back to myself and gently pressed on his chest, asking him to back up.  He did, though he dragged his foot and peeled the leather off of the top of my boot.  Ow.  

Another time I was tightening his girth. I pulled, pulled some more, and POP.  I tore a muscle in my sternum.  Go figure!  I wouldn't have even realized that I had a muscle there, much less a useful muscle.  Two months later I could finally breathe without pain, and about 4 months later I successfully tightened his girth again!

Joey taught me so much about the world and about God.  He came from a place of neglect and pain, which resulted in his blindness (from malnutrition).  Did he complain?  Never.  He was the bravest horse that I have ever met.  He took each new thing in stride, reaching out to those he trusted, willing to follow out of love, even when he couldn't see the next step. He learned to wait, even in terrifying circumstances (like the time a huge tree fell down right beside him at camp).  He knew that he couldn't lead himself, and he trusted that we would lead him down a safe path.  When I rode him, we learned to communicate - I learned to show him everything - when the path curved, or went up or down, when it was safe to lengthen his stride, or when he should shorten it up for a bumpy stretch.  

He even taught me about the danger of idols.  When our beautiful Abby was his pasture mate, he definitely idolized her!  Then he was unable to "see" clearly - anything that took him from her was upsetting, even if it was a good thing on a safe path.  He got kicked, scratched, pushed others, and basically went careening off of the safe path.  What an amazing example of what happens to me when I am blinded by my wants, by my idols.  Not only do I get hurt, sometimes I hurt those around me. When his temptation was removed, Joey was able to walk forward in safety again.  Another example of how God's laws are not limitations, they are safety barriers.  

More than anything else, Joey gave me love and peace.  He eventually switched to another trainer, a dear man who loved Joey so much.  But when times were tough for me, I would trot out to the field and hug Joey.  He always knew when I needed him - he would stand still, wrapping his neck around me until I was cried out.  I've spent many hours just sitting out in his field, chatting with him, talking out my fears and worries until the peace in that horse from God would seep right into my heart.  When I miss Speckles, I go out and grieve again with Joey.  Whenever I go into the field, he is ready to love (and to receive carrots ;)).  

Joey has been so much to so many.  Volunteers and families have been touch by him and by his story.  He has done just the right thing at just the right time - time and time again.  It would be hard to find someone who has been to Hope Reins and has not been touched by Joe.

But right now, I am just one person, missing one horse. When we prayed over him tonight, he pressed his nose over mine and we breathed with each other, not moving a muscle until the prayer ended.  I miss him.  I miss the silly cocking of his head so that he can hear me more clearly.  I miss it when he's tired of me messing with his hoof and lifts it high, so high, shaking it gently to try and get free.  I miss our game, when I would put him on a lead rope and run around him, trying to tap his rear - he loved that game, and would work hard to bump me with his nose before I got his rump (which meant that he won). I miss scratching his face.  I miss watching him pick up his food bowl after he is done eating.  I will miss hearing him cry when we take out his pasture mate.  I will miss him the next time I need to cry, and he will not be there in the field, waiting for me.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith - more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire - may be found to result in praise and glory and honer at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

1 Peter 1:3-7

My friend, I will miss you.  

Give Speckles a kiss - I'm hoping you finally get to see what he looks like.

See you soon love.