White Beauty
Every day I told them they were the best horses in the world. But back when I was 24, I was adamant that I’d never own an Arabian. Especially not a white one. The time and effort required to keep a white horse white and the chances of a silly-spunky Arab causing injury were just too great. When I traded for my chocolate-brown foal with its black mane and tail I didn’t know he would shed his baby coat and turn white. Now, my hair is changing colors too. One young rider asked, “Aunt Kate, are you turning your hair white to match your horses?” Yes I am, Leia. Yes, I am. (Actually, I wasn’t, but the longer I think about it, the more I like the idea.)
One spring, several decades ago, I entered Vertigo in a horse show among the almond blossoms in Lodi, California. My riding instructor had suggested it would be good for me and my young horse. Out of my league and shaking in my borrowed boots, velvet helmet, and English riding jacket, Vert and I entered the show ring. Sleek thoroughbreds towered on either side of my Arabian as we saluted the judges.
Maybe because we had never experienced a dressage competition before, both of us focused on the course. Steady on. Figure eight, change lead, canter to the right, diagonal to midway then canter to the left… and on it went. We relaxed and enjoyed it toward the end. “Vert, we’ve got this!” Proud of his attentiveness to my slightest prompts, I gave him a pat and smiled at the judges when we finished. He seemed to like it. So did the judges. To my astonishment, Vertigo and I received the highest marks. One judge wrote that we “looked good together.” We drove home with the first-place ribbon and a new sense that I could do anything with such a willing horse.
What makes me smile and even starts tears of joy, are displays of meekness. In our culture, meek has come to mean weak and timid, but the actual definition is closer to “strength under control.” Jesus even describes himself as meek. (Matt.11:29 KJV) Ancient Greeks used the same word to describe a noble warhorse. Good fathers are meek with their children. I see meekness when powerful animals choose to be gentle, delighting weaker ones. I saw it in my horses, whose humble nature made them a favorite with kids. It wasn’t unusual to see Vert grazing in the field with half a dozen blackbirds resting on his back. In fact, in 30 years, only once was Apache truly naughty. Ok, twice. But both times, the men riding kicked him, demanding a gallop. Oh, he galloped! Adding some farting bucks for good measure. No meekness for them.
Another day, a little boy who had just lost his daddy to cancer came to the barn to visit them. While I filled a grain bucket, the boy untied the rope to take one for a walk. I turned to see Apache walking with his nose a few inches from the ground as he followed the four-year old. Every few steps the boy would pause, reaching back to pat the horse’s head and somehow his sadness was soothed.
Once I set out on a ride and Vertigo wildly tossed his head. I spanked him for his bad behavior. Then I noticed that the reins were crossed under his chin. He tried to tell me and I punished him for it. Sigh. He enjoyed an extra scoop of grain that day along with many apologetic pats.
More recently, a family of refugees from Africa who struggled with the strangeness of their new home in a cold climate came to visit the horses. It would be their first-ever ride. Timid and solemn, they put their feet in the stirrups, but before long they were smiling and laughing. Suddenly, there was no language barrier thanks to the therapeutic effect of a meek and beautiful horse. They were my therapy too, walking on either side of me through difficult times. From their examples, I learned more about trust, love, and submission. I’m amazed that in three decades, no serious accidents, illnesses, or injuries occurred—and it wasn’t because they were sheltered. I took them everywhere and shared them. They gave countless rides without incident.
Even on their last day, my white beauties galloped together across September’s harvested fields of gold. Looking back at 30 years of uncommon good memories, I’m overwhelmed by a humbling sense of blessing. Their goodness caused so many smiles and joy. The Lord gives. The Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.
Photo by Rebekah Gomez. First Ride.
Photo by Jean Zinn. Riding Lessons.
Photo by Emily Hamberger. St. Paul Rodeo Parade.
Photo by Rachel Simmons Homeschool Horsecamp.
Photo by Lorraine Olivia Hamberger. Title photo by Natasha DeWater Washburn.
Thanks to Denise Clark for title inspiration.
Horse Lessons. Video thanks to Leah Kraskoff.
