Katelyn Riding Hawk
Last summer my grand daughter's beloved Morgan bucked like he was in a rodeo, just when Katelyn got onto the saddle. I watched as she tried with all her might to hang on, but in a matter of seconds she was torn from her firm grip, and went sailing high into the air. Bam!, Katleyn was on the ground as we scrambled to check to see how hurt she was. Hawk walked out to the middle of the outside riding arena and looked at us, reins hanging down, now holding the earth, not in the hands of his best buddy Katelyn. I cannot get the sight of her eyes out of my memory; seconds of determination, then fright, and ending with anguish of tears and sobbing. I am sure my own eyes followed suit as I experienced fear, compassion, and sorrow looking at her expressions.
The trainer and I both searched for any serious injuries first. Katelyn, completely out of breath laid there, then moved at our urging, and finely standing up; holding her side, weeping as though her world was crumbling around her. The trainer went to Hawk, he was still standing quietly. She led him back to us and asked Katelyn if she would get back up on him. By then Katelyn had found composure, nodded, still holding her side. She pulled herself up into the saddle, this time Hawk was still, as they walked a few paces around the arena. There also was a stillness in the anxiety of my mind for a second as I prayed Katelyn would be all right.
The lesson was done. We went to the barn. Tears still streaming from the eyes of Katelyn, not so much because of her injury but the let down, her most precious possession let her down, hurt her, and turned her safe, secure world, upside down. The experience left her with no joy. There would be no more rough neck riding. The sparkle in her eyes and giggles were gone like when she rode in the past. Fear replaced them with carefulness, her unquestionable confidence had gone up in smoke the second she hit the earth, and it has not come back.
She hasn't road Hawk since. She has only come out to groom him a couple times this winter. I no longer see that 12 year old running to the barn to spend time with her best buddy.
Hawk Gazing Out Of His Stall, Looking For Katelyn. I Am Sure He Misses Her. He Loved It When She Groomed Him, Spending Endless Hours Giving Him Attention. Isn't life like that? sometimes we just quit. The pain in life's lessons numbs us. We give up on something, someone, we dearly love. Things change and we can't accept it. It is easier to walk away and not take a chance on getting hurt again. Our relationships constantly deal out bumpy rides; some are rough just like that bucking old Hawk dished out. Some are just irritating and we don't want to deal with them. But just like that trainer urging Katelyn to get back up ride again, tring again gives us the release and experience of a new direction. Giving another try in trusting, and most of all forgiveness. can Katelyn forgive that huge animal Hawk? I hope so. Summer might bring her back, perhaps to ride my giant Moose instead of old Hawk. Not give up entirely her love of riding, just a little different way.
This brings to mind how forgiveness has renewed, re-centered my life. Years of observation of what works and what needs to go back on the drawing board of living has rebuilt my conficence. I love the quote, "This is only temporary" and repeat it often when working my way through regrets until the "YET" of life turns them into a "Right On" mode.
Kate
