She is wearing the locket with her memory of her old horse in it. The one she bravely comforted as she waited for the injection to work it’s way. Her days are now spent tending and caring for our two new horses. It’s a splendid sight to see as I peer out the kitchen window. It wasn’t that long ago she dipped into disinterest and put a guard on her heart about the decision to purchase and try once again. She didn’t want the pain.
"Love those horses and you are just gonna hurt," little one said.
"Don’t I know it girl."
Taking her tiny hand in mine, it is difficult at best, but I try to explain that love and hurt are unavoidable and that it’s all worth it still. This sensitive one, already coping with my illness and loss for a time here, looks up at me with her pale little face. I go on blabbering some thing to the effect that love is the greatest, as even when the pain comes-and it will-the pain cannot steal the joy. It hurts terribly at times, but it can’t snatch away all the memories loving brings.
I’m not sure the kid fully comprehends.
I ponder at times if adults fully comprehend. Can we tolerate being loved? Can we allow God to love us and reciprocate? I mean really count the blessings and live all loved?
For me, it is a courageous act, to exercise that trust muscle, to constantly live it and model it in front of children daily. It’s a humble task to be entrusted with, but every single step is a brave step, to risk love and to be loved as God gifts us with such joy. It does my heart good to see the little one leap back into the journey. She is out there now every free minute she has caring, training, and falling head over heels in love with those two little horses.