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Morning Routine

Sometimes I ponder how I end up in the places I do. Is it Divine intervention or just by chance? I have been away for so long that I have forgotten the joys of childhood.  I only know the pressures of being an entrepreneur on a path that seems as though YHWH is against.


Our Morning RoutineIt has been less than a week and I feel as though I’m supposed to be taking care of the animals and that my former lifestyle is not who I am. Perhaps Mommy Jean and Dad were on the right track when I was growing up in that small town.

We used to pick rocks out of a very large garden, and my brother, Frank, was known as the Limestone Cowboy. I don’t know who started it, but it was funny then, and it’s funny now. We had to carry limestone rocks out of the garden, but I swear the rocks grew in the garden. I still get stuck on the well known tune, but replaced with limestone.

Mommy Jean and Dad, whom called himself Hermit Dad, had many plans for our 120 acres. It was a farmer’s dream, but that isn’t the only farming I remember.

I remember a trip to Ohio when I was a kid. Frank, the clown of the family, spied my uncle, who was bending over working on some chores. My brother ran as fast as he could, head down, pretending to be a billy goat, and hit my uncle so hard that I think my uncle probably still suffers from that moment.

I also remember the cows, the milk and the farm but that’s it. My best friend lived on a farm but other than that I have no other memories of farming or wanting to live on one. The only thing I wanted to do was be a cop. I grew up watching police shows, not farming shows. I only lived on a farm because I was a child and didn’t have a choice. However, there was one point where life on the farm was beyond my wildest dreams.

“Mom, can I get a horse?”
“We don’t have a barn.”
“If I build a barn, can I get a horse?”

Mommy Jean and Hermit Dad laugh. They both agreed if I built a barn, I could get a horse. At 16, surely their daughter would not build a barn.

Once the barn was built, they were true to their word, and Mommy Jean and I went shopping for a horse. I watched as the two-year old stallion, whom they called Tyson Raymond, ran around a very small corral. He just kept running in small circles.

“I want that one.” I was certain of it. I didn’t want any other horse. It had to be that one.

“You don’t want that one.” Came the reply from the handler. “He’s sick.”

As he ran, his chest squeaked really loud. When he was younger, as the story goes, his former owner ran him so hard that it burst a hole in his lung and he would never be healthy again.

“I want him!” I insisted.

Mommy Jean handed over $200 and Tyson Raymond became my horse. I don’t know where they got the money, but they changed my life right then.  He was a registered Arabian stallion, whom I renamed to Dragon Tyson Raymond.

As we unloaded my new horse onto the 120 acre farm, he only ran in the same size circle I saw him running in at the ranch.  It’s the same size circle as the pen he was kept in. He must not have been let out very much.

He didn’t know he was free.

I am a lot like my horse was. I live my life running in a small circle, not understanding that Yeshua set me free.  I know it in my head, but I don’t feel the freedom in my heart.

It was remarkable to watch when my horse figured out he wasn’t penned up any more. He bolted across the field bucking and running!

Secret Haven is peaceful. I think that’s why I like it here. Wesley and I know what needs to be done, but first, there has to be time to greet each of the animals and to talk to them and make sure their needs are met.

It didn’t take us long to figure out a good routine that works for us.  The animals are taken care of when we first arrive, and then we get to work with estate liquidation processes.  At the end of the day, the animals are cared for again.

It’s not the path I expected to be on in estate liquidation, but now that I’m here, I like it.

 

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