The magic … the draw … the inner swell of Horse. What is it that is seemingly genetic in our blood that goes through the generations?

The photo above is of our youngest grandchild riding Diego. Diego absolutely melts around kids and this child throws the temper tantrum when he has to get down from Diego’s back.  Jonathan’s not even 2 years old yet.  But that magic, that draw to horses is already instilled even though he’s only met Diego twice.

Jonathan sits perfectly in precise balance on Diego’s back with only a light pad separating Jonathan’s seat from the horse’s back. Every move is felt yet this child, this wee child has no fear. Only contentment.

And-connection.

What is it about horses, anyway? My earliest memory is the intense draw to horses and ponies. I lived most of my childhood catchriding any whinneying beast that had 4 hooves; with or without shoes. Every Christmas the only thing on my list was “A Horse”.

Before I could find ‘friends with horses’ I rode sticks. Or bounced on low hanging tree limbs. I galloped and whinnied as if the sticks and trees were truly alive and breathed hot equine breath in the cool air.

When I wasn’t riding sticks and tree limbs then I was the most beautiful of all steeds galloping over green hills and through thick woods with not a care in the world.

My grandmother came from a family with 11 children. Each of those 11 children had their own horses. Grandmother loved animals and I believe that her genes must have been carried straight to me – bypassing my brother and sister who asked, “why horses?”

My youngest daughter had that draw as well. For her 4th birthday all she wanted was her own pony. For her 6th birthday a close friend gave her the best gift of a series of riding lessons at a nearby farm. And then … we found her a pony of her very own. Well, leased, but Champy was as much of her own pony as any other could be. Even in the worst moments with tummy aches, fevers, coughs, colds, sore throats, our daughter wanted to go see Champy and ride. That, she did. She rode like the wind and then, when I got my very first horse, she and I rode for hours and days through woods, over streams and rivers and across green fields.

Our dreams came true. That magic came alive. God blessed us mightily.

And now?

The next generation — not even 2 years old and the horses are calling him …

through green fields and over hill and dale. Instead of visions of sugar plums in his wee little Christmas noggin’ he dreams of horses … and one day having one of his very own.

The magic of horses … the draw. The calling.

For Jonathan he hears and feels it.

May God someday bless him as He has Jonathan’s Grandmother and Mother.
And fill his heart. His soul.

With Grace.
With the gift of … Horse.