Thanksgiving Prayer

The night before Thanksgiving the wind blew....and blew.... and blew like it's purest intention was to blow my mobile home right off it's blocks.  I lay awake thinking of what I would do to keep my babies safe in the event of a freak, unseasonal tornado....it was blowing like that! 

There was more wind and high gusts fore casted for Thanksgiving Day.  I didn't have big plans, but my husband had come home and promised me all of the "horsey" time I needed on Thanksgiving.  My heart sank as I listened to the wind that sounded like the trains were running in Geraldine again.  I hardly get a chance to go out and ride these days... The babies and the business keep my mom and I so busy.  We haven't yet found that extra baby helper to free up some free time for me....

During the early part of the morning the fore casted wind was present.  It wasn't working as hard at it, but still blustery.  The sky was gray and cold, threatening to drop some moisture.  After the babies  were fed, dressed and playing happily I gazed out the window and and breathed a prayer..." Lord, if the wind would only ease up....I need some time to myself before I go crazy...."  I know that the other moms that are reading this have all said similar prayers.  After a few minutes I decided to just be tough and go ride, wind or no wind.  This was the only chance I was to have for a while.

I arrived at the barn, pulled my good ol' Rhett out of the pen and started grooming and saddling.  Was it my imagination or was the wind dying down?  No, it definitely was....  Rhett seemed about as fresh as he ever gets, so I walked him around a minute and shook my finger at him with a warning before climbing on and heading down the gravel road to the South.... I rode past the cemetery and another half-mile or so to an old, abandoned farmstead.  The shelter belt of trees are all dead, gray and gnarled together.  It's the kind of place that would be spooky at night, with it's weathered, crumbling buildings. 

To the right of the old farm there's a track that heads off the road into a field that hasn't been farmed for a long time.  Rhett seemed to choose that route and I didn't argue.  At that moment things  rushed into focus for me.  The air around us was suddenly calm and warm.  The sun was breaking through the clouds and warming our backs.  The only sounds hitting our ears were the dry, short grass prairie being crushed beneath Rhett's hoof prints, a squeak of leather here and there and the sound of his breath as he carried me slowly toward the top of a long hill.  Rhett's arthritic joints seemed to loosen and he happily picked up a lope for a while. Near the top of the rise we stopped to survey this beautiful expanse of land and sky.  We found ourselves standing in an area that the coyotes have been using for a lookout.  The proof was lying in little piles all over the hillside.  I glanced around for a den, but it wasn't within sight.

From our coyote lookout, there was only one ranch in sight, other than the spooky old farmstead.  It sits off to the West about 2 miles away near the foothills to the Highwoods. We could see a tractor slowly delivering it's load of a round bale to a handful of cows. Like a tiny ant with it's heavy load.  I was completely in awe of the stillness and deafening quiet around us.  It was so quiet I found myself actually holding my breath to silence it and take in the peace.  Rhett's soft snuffling also ceased as he caught his wind.  All I heard in those moments was the rumbling in Rhett's stomach....

We continued on to the top of the hill and down the other side.  That open patch of prairie extends all the way back to the West side of town.  We ended up at the "airport", aka landing strip used by some of the farmers.  Then roamed down the street that defines the edge of town and back down to the little barn where Rhett and his filly spend their time. 

The entire way home, I had an overwhelming gratitude in my heart, for my answered prayer and the chance to breathe.