It’s been some time since I’ve felt completely, totally, irrefutably happy.
Just over six months ago, we lost my brother-in-law far before his time, and it hurts. It still hurts. Our loss, our grief has overshadowed every moment since that awful day. We loved much, so we grieve much.
Here in Virginia, fall is the perfect time to ride. The weather is lovely, the mosquitoes not so bad, and fall lasts through December. But we lost Michael in October, and while I went through the motions, most of last fall is a blur of heartache. I didn’t ride. Not once.
I didn’t ride all winter. It was cold, dark, rainy.
I didn’t ride in March or April, it was an unusually cool Spring, and wet as usual. I clean stalls, I feed, I groom, I arrange vet and farrier care, but I didn’t ride.
Then, I did it. I dusted off my saddle, pulled out the bridle and actually rode. For the first time in six months.
And it was great. Perfect. Beautiful.
I watched the sunset from horseback, and I loved on my baby girl.
Eventually I dismounted and put her away, gave her some grain and stored all that tack once more. But this time it won’t collect dust–it won’t stay hidden for long. Because this was life-giving. This small act of riding brought a real smile to my face, one I couldn’t deny if I tried.
I felt euphoric, alive, joyful…happy.
I know that riding horses isn’t the source of my joy. The Lord is the source of all joy. But He has given me a special heart for these majestic creatures of His, and through them, He comforts and heals my heart.
The happiness didn’t last forever, and the next day my muscles were pretty sore (I forget just how much muscle it really takes to ride well!). But I have been reminded just how therapeutic a ride can be, and I plan on partaking again pretty soon.