Horses and Other Blessings

My Daddy had a lifelong love of horses.  When he was about fourteen, he was able to acquire one of his own.  Her name was Sally. I grew up hearing all about Sally and what a wonderful horse she was.  I always felt a little bit cheated that she died before I was born and I never got to meet her.  I thought we would have been good friends.  She sounded like a horse I could really like.  

I don’t know what exactly constitutes a smart horse, but I think Sally was smart.  For all I know she was just an average horse, but I always considered her to be right up there in horse brain power.  Sally had to be a little bit smart, because she was able to learn some tricks.  One of my favorite stories about Sally is her “Giddy up” trick.  Here’s what happened.  Daddy secretly worked with Sally and taught her to stand up on her hind legs when he said, “Giddy up.”  I always thought that was a great trick, but it caused some trouble.  My grandmother loved Sally, too.  And she liked to ride her because Sally was so gentle.  So, when Grandma decided one day to take Sally for a ride, she didn’t know about Sally’s new trick.  Grandma said, “Giddy up, Sally.”  Sally did.  And dumped Grandma right on the ground.  It was a while before anyone was impressed with Sally’s new trick.  

I grew up knowing all about Sally.  I spent a lot of time wishing for a horse just like her.  If Daddy loved her, then I knew I would love her.  Never did get a horse.  

Knowing how much Daddy loved horses, my brother and I conspired to get him a very special birthday present one year.  My plan to get him a horse like Little Joe Cartwright’s had failed miserably.  But I still wanted him to have a horse.  I talked my brother into helping me buy him one.  My brother and I pooled all of our money – and it wasn’t much.  It wouldn’t even buy a thought of a horse.  But I had a plan.  I knew how much Daddy liked Appaloosa horses and I had seen one at the toy store.  It was a plastic (but nice plastic, keep in mind) horse, but it was an Appaloosa.  We begged Mama to drive us to the store and bought it immediately with all the change we owned.  Neither one of us had a paper dollar bill.  

We wrapped up that horse in birthday paper and presented it to Daddy.  He acted like it was the best present he ever received.  I told him how sorry I was that it wasn’t real, but it was the only Appaloosa we could afford.  Years and years went by and I forgot all about that horse.  And one day, I saw it in his house on a shelf – like it was something special.  Later, I found out that he would never let any of the grandchildren play with it or even touch it.  After Daddy died, I got the horse.  The Appaloosa is now in my house on a shelf – and nobody plays with it – ever.  Want to meet him?  Here he is.

And that is how it is with God and me.  It isn’t necessarily the costly, gigantic blessings that are cherished the most.  It is often the little things – things that wouldn’t mean anything to someone else, but mean a lot to me.  This cancer journey has taught me a lot about blessings.  They come in so many forms.  Cards and notes and e-mails and phone calls and prayers.  My sweet friend who visits me during chemotherapy and brings me lunch.  The people who pray for me when I feel almost too sick to pray for myself.  The care packages that come in the mail.  A cousin who has encouraged me to name my wig.  A special parking space at work near the elevator.  The  list goes on.  And they are all priceless gifts.

I get it now about my Daddy and the horse.  It would appear to most folks to be an insignificant gift, but it meant so much to him.  It was a gift from the heart and purchased with all we had to give.  That’s what God did for you and me.  Gave us His most precious gift from the heart, paid for with all He could give. 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.   James 1:17