be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances, He says.
do not be anxious about anything, but by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, give my requests to Him and He will grant me the peace that transcends all understanding, He says.
He took my beautiful boy Mo home on 29 October. an accident, something that horses can do to themselves.
at 11 am the vet Dr. M comes and examines him. she says "I feel some displacement." those words stop my heart. a twist. i tell her that he is not a surgery candidate. my barn manager and friend Lindsay asks her "what do we need to do?". Dr. M advises. throughout the afternoon we walk him, take him for a trailer ride, longe him - - all in the hope of untangling his insides. praying for poop, as we horse people say to each other at times like this. by early evening he is beginning to get dehydrated. Dr. M returns with catheter and IV fluids, more pain meds, instructs me on what to do. by 10 pm i have spent a couple of hours hanging and switching out IV bags and giving him the meds, taken him on a couple of walks around the barn. afraid to walk him too far from the barn in case he goes down. Lindsay wants to give the meds and fluids and oil a few more hours to work. but i just know. so tired, he and I tell each other. we want to lay down but we can't. we agree on what we need to do, what we already knew, what my heart had been telling me, what his heart had been telling me. at 10 pm i call the night vet and thank God it is Dr. A. she has been with me for this before. she had been briefed by Dr. M. i tell her what i see and feel. she advises, confirms. she says she would like me to think about it for a little while longer and she will call me back. i talk to Lindsay. i tell her i want the vet. when Dr. A calls me back, i say "please come now." i make myself a bed in the aisle of the barn next to his stall and wait. he is still on his feet, quiet, his head turned toward his belly on one side, asking what is going on in there? then he turns his head back to the other side, and asks again. this repeats over and over, his head moves side to side, he keeps asking. he is uncomfortable but not in excruciating pain. i tell him what i think the answer is. i hug him. i tell him i'm sorry about his tummyache. i tell him he is a brave and strong boy and i thank him for staying on his feet. he remains focused inward, preparing. my boy is on his way. at 11:30 the vet arrives. she examines him -- quick, efficient, definite, direct. inside of three minutes she tells me what she sees and says "I am so glad you didn't wait to call. He's done. He needs to go." a rush of relief, the end of the wondering and worrying. so tired.
when i see the people on my planet suffering, i tell them that in moments of need, God gives us grace — unearned blessings — to sparkle up our night, to shed light on dark paths. it is our job to tune our senses to receive that grace.
now, in moments of (Xanax-assisted) clarity, i begin to see the grace for myself.
Many beings, human and otherwise, cross our paths in the course of living our lives … we form friendships, deep attachments … but only a very few of these are true connections.
on my planet, i am truly connected to a handful of people and some of my animals … i care for many others, of course, but there is something different about these special ones… a deeper bond, an entwining of hearts, minds, souls …
our bodies change over time, age, become broken, heal, or not — however the vessels that carry us morph through the years changes not the fundamental beings we are.
what makes me Me is my amazing spirit. what makes Mo Mo is his amazing spirit.
what makes us partners is the entwining of our spirits. nothing can ever separate us.
joyful, praying continually, with thankfulness that has no words.