My mom – such a good sport. Wincing, no doubt, as my first horse and I “learned together”.
In the days before baled horse shavings, it was Mom who stoically held the garbage bag while I climbed into the sawdust bin at the local lumber yard and scooped. The dust poofed into her face, coating her clothes and the back of our station wagon….
She’d receive my tales from the horse barn with “concern” – “You rode WHERE??” “You jumped WHAT??”
But do you know what I’m most grateful for? My mom’s prayers. When my love for horses became a profession, each week ,for 25 years, Mom would call and get the horse scoop . How many horses in training that week? She’d pray for the “tough” ones by name. And even some of the “tough” clients!
Over 25 yrs, she prayed for hundreds and hundreds of horses I trained and before my trailer left for each horse show. And amazingly, despite many close calls, I’ve never been hurt!
“Her children stand and bless her.” Proverbs 31