Don’t Get In Over Your Head
I don’t remember her real name, but it doesn’t matter because I just called her “Idiot.” She was stubborn, stupid, and strong. To this day, I can’t forgive her. Don’t judge me too severely—she was a horse.
We lived in Colorado at the time, and I don’t have anyone else to blame for this weeklong test of self-control, which you can already tell I passed with flying colors. I’m embarrassed to say that the delusional idea of renting horses for that year’s elk hunt was mine. Yes, I said “renting” – I paid $300 for my misguided, romantic decision to relive the Old West on our annual attempt to “feed the family.” I had probably just watched City Slickers or some great movie about taming the frontier. Anyway, back to Idiot.
“Do you have enough experience with horses to do this?” the man asked when dropping off the animals.
“Sure,” I replied confidently. “All I need is for you to show me how to tie that fancy little knot with the straps that hold the saddle on. It’s been a while.” He gave a big smile, showed me how, and was on his way. What a friendly guy, I thought.
The next morning, we had our early coffee, dressed in our warmest clothes – it was very cold – took thirty minutes to do the fancy saddle-strap-knot, and we were off for the mountain top. Idiot was nice on the way up. (She hadn’t yet acquired this meaningful name.)
But everything changed when we returned to the horses after several hours of hunting. With my incredible knowledge of horses, I knew we couldn’t shoot from their backs; they weren’t used to it and would have reacted violently. So we tied them to some bushes and wandered off to hunt. I don’t think horses like being tied to bushes for several hours with nothing to eat or drink, because when we returned to ride them back down the hill, they were really mad.
Idiot wouldn’t stand still so I could load my gear; therefore, that took a while. We were on such a steep slope that when standing on the downhill side, it was hard to reach up and over her back to tie things on. And she kept moving up close to the bush, keeping it on her uphill side. Oh, she knew what she was doing, all right.
Like I said, Idiot wouldn’t be still. To make matters worse, I had already untied her because the reins were so long I couldn’t have reached far enough to untie them from her back.
Then the worst problem became evident. From the downhill side and with my thick hunting clothes hindering my mobility, I couldn’t hike my leg high enough to reach the stirrup. I couldn’t get on, especially with her dancing around!
And Idiot was ready to go!
I was fighting her, trying to hold her long enough to mount up, when finally my brother, Tim, succeeded in climbing on Idiot’s co-worker. (For a few minutes, we had looked like Laurel and Hardy - or rodeo square dancers.) When Tim finally made it on, his horse decided she’d had enough and took off running for camp.
Idiot was not about to be left behind. So there I was, hanging on to the side of a moving Idiot, trying to climb aboard from the downhill side of Hell Mountain. One hand on the stirrup, the other holding the reins; one foot hopping off the ground, the other reaching for the stirrup.
“Stop your horse!” I yelled. “I can’t get mine to stop with yours running.”
“She won’t stop!” Tim yelled back. “You’re on your own.”
So Idiot and I did the mountainside do-si-do for a couple hundred yards until we finally reached a level-enough grade for me to jump on. It’s a good thing I’m as athletic as I am. In fact, if not for my amazing combination of intelligence and athleticism, I don’t think I would have survived the ordeal.
When we finally caught up with Tim, he looked at me and said, “What an idiot.”
“She sure is,” I said.
He mumbled something that sounded like “not the horse.” The animals were moving so fast I couldn’t hear him, so I just agreed. We never could get them to completely slow down - they galloped all the way down the mountain!
It was a humorous sight when we came crashing into camp. Guys started diving out of the way as equipment flew everywhere. “You idiot!” one of them shouted.
“I know!” I yelled back.
Nonetheless, I had the last word where Idiot was concerned. I made her stay in camp the rest of the week – wouldn’t let her go hunting with me. Tim did the same with Idiot’s sister. Each time we fed and watered them, Tim gave me a disgusted look and said, “Idiot.”
“I know,” was always my quick response. “She sure is.”
A few weeks later, he gave me a T-shirt with the word Idiot on the front in big letters. “Why would I want a shirt with that horse’s name on it?” I asked him.
Tim just rolled his eyes.(1)
I Hope You Laughed
I have no profound point to make with this story - just thought I’d try to provide a little humor during this crazy time in which we live. “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine” (Proverbs 17:22).
Also, Ceci and I want to thank you once again for the prayers, cards, and well-wishes. She is progressing well in her recovery. As you can imagine, the recovery is a challenging process, but she is faithful to her exercises, has had no complications, and is getting great reports.
Pray with me:
Father, I pray for all those reading or listening to today’s post. Cause joy to rise up within them, providing the strength Nehemiah and Ezra spoke of during the restoration of Jerusalem (Nehemiah 8:10). Just as joy sustained those workers, it will sustain us as we work to see our nation restored.
I pray a blessing over each one – over their families, homes, businesses, churches, and all that they put their hand to. Please remove from them weariness, discouragement, hopelessness, sickness, and lack. Put a new spring in their step and a smile on their faces. I thank You for this and for all You are doing in our lives and nation. And I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Our decree:
We declare that the joy of the Lord is our strength.
Click on the link below to watch the full video.
Story taken from my book Authority in Prayer, published by Bethany House Publishers, Minneapolis, MN.