Trail Riding Lessons

For several years, the B5 Gang has enjoyed two lovely weeks of camping and trail riding in Brown County State Park.  We go one week every spring and one week every fall.  It’s tradition…and last week was THE spring week. 

Our bi-annual packing experience has been honed over the years.  Since I merely SIT on a horse (I’m no Cowgirl, as any of the other four members of the BG Gang can – and WILL - tell you), Cowboy and the girls don’t really prefer my “help” with horses, tack, or anything remotely resembling equine comforts.  They realize that IF they depended on ME me for this task, we wouldn’t get very far down the trail.  I DO, however, have an important job.  I plan meals, shop for food, and pack the HUMAN comforts for the week. I think they appreciate it…or they WOULD…if ever they tried to go without me. But I digress…

Upon arrival at the campground, the well-oiled B5 wheels were set in motion, and we soon congratulated ourselves on the quickest and most flawless camp set-up in recent history.  We were ready to map our first course for the week.  Girl 1 & Girl 3 started tacking up horses, Girl 2 & Cowboy pulled out the map and a highlighter, and I packed snacks and drinks to-go-style.  Soon we were mounted and stepping out into the wonderful wilderness of Brown County State Park.

Since I no longer have a horse of my very own and was forced to “borrow” a horse I’d never ridden before (I’m not bitter…no, not me…but that’s a story for another day), I was a teentsy bit apprehensive as we made our way up and down trails.  I may or may not have been white-knuckling it every time Harley and I  encountered obstacles…I tried to explain to Harley that I’m a SITTER, not a JUMPER.  Noting my apprehension, Cowboy quickly started advising me.  His little lessons, as usual, eased my apprehension, and it wasn’t long before I finally was able to sit back, relax, let Harley do his job, and just soak up the surrounding beauty.

Cowboy has this innate internal compass.  I swear that man can be in pitch-black darkness, turned around several times, hung upside down by a rope, and STILL accurately point to North.  In contrast, my innate internal compass is limited to “remember to hang a Larry at the loopdy-loop tree.”  Since Cowboy long ago gave up ever trying to teach ME how to find True North (thank the Heavens above), I listened as he quizzed the girls on what they remembered from past lessons.

 

Much to his dismay, with the exception of Girl 3 (who isn’t half-bad), they pretty much inherited their mother’s lack of an innate internal compass. 

 

As we headed back toward camp, Cowboy was naming trees.  Then he was listening for bird calls.  It really is ridiculous what this man knows.  You would think that after 23 years of marriage, I might start learning at least a LITTLE BIT of the stuff he holds in that brain of his, but alas…no.  I just am not gifted with the sense of direction...or sun placement…or trees…or birds…or training horses…or providing medical care for horses…or HORSES IN GENERAL for that matter…no…I can’t teach any of that.  They pretty much let me tag along on trail rides because I’ve been nice enough to ensure they have towels and shampoo…and s’mores…and snacks for the trail.  It kind of bummed me out when I came to the realization that I can’t really teach them ANYTHING about camping or trail riding.  I mean, seriously…I’M THE TEACHER!  I’m the teacher of school subjects, anyway…In all honesty, Cowboy is the teacher of life.  I’m a band-aid-sticker-onner.  Cowboy is the hugger that soothes the wound of the deeper hurt.  I’m the food cooker.  Cowboy shows them how to feed their souls.  In a way I’m really happy that he is all of that for them.  It’s really really cool to watch a dad teach his children, and it’s really really cool to see them interact with him.  But DANG IT…why’s he have to make me look so bad?  I obsessed over this for the duration of the ride.   When we stopped for a rest, it became evident that I would just have to figure out a way to show them how useful Mom can be for this trail riding stuff.  I mean, honestly…I can’t let them think they can start going without me!

The next day of trail riding was much the same as the first…blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…I was starting to get a little jealous.  “There must be SOMETHING I can teach them out here in the wilderness,” I thought.  And then it hit me…I’VE GOT IT!!  I can teach them a very important lesson…probably a girl’s most important lesson of all…a lesson that Cowboy would NEVER think to teach, because he has never had to learn it himself.  And here it is…are you ready…?

WEED IDENTIFICATION

POISON IVY

STINGING NETTLE

Because when you’re three hours away from camp, and there’s not a pit toilet in sight, it’s essential to know what weeds NOT to use!

Happy trails! :)

Viva la Mexico

The B5 Gang split up last week when Cowboy and I embarked on a much-needed vacation. Rising at o’dark-thirty, we tossed a few things in bags, kissed Girl 1, Girl 2 & Girl 3 (who didn’t get out of bed to see us off, btw), and headed to the airport. Everything went right…no traffic, quickly found airport parking in the economy long-term lot, immediately picked up by the shuttle, early check-in sped us through the ticket counter, and upon arrival at our gate were told that we would board early and leave early.  YAY! 

The flight was great…no turbulence, smooth landing. We landed 20 minutes early in Cancun, Mexico, and at 10:00 a.m. it was already a sunny 75 degrees. We easily slipped through immigration, found our bags waiting at the luggage carousel, handed our customs paperwork to the attendant, bypassed the vultures trying to sell timeshares in the lobby, and a driver called us by name, escorting us to his van.

Traffic was light, and in 20 minutes we were at Puerto Cancun. I slipped inside, bought two ferry tickets to the lovely Isla Mujeres, boarded the ferry, and in no time at all the captain began backing away from the dock.  I lay my head on Cowboy’s shoulder, breathed in the salt air, felt the tropical breeze blowing through my hair, and must have taken a bit of a siesta, because before I knew it, we were at the resort. A bellman unloaded our bags, opened his arms wide, and said “Welcome home!”

Ahhh…(deep, dramatic, contented sigh…) There could be only one explanation for the easy-breezy path there…

The entire universe had conspired to put us right there, in that very place, at that very time. This could mean only one thing:  I BELONG in Mexico. I was smiling. Cowboy was smiling. The resort staff was smiling. Even those silly Mayan gods must have been smiling.

Our week was amazing. Views previously enjoyed but erased by the passage of time once again flooded our vision. We took in every morsel of it, intent on memorizing the horizon, the crystal clear turquoise waters of the Caribbean, the reflection of the sun’s rays on each surface, the rumble of the waves.  Each night we fell asleep to the sound of waves crashing at our balcony, and awoke to the same. We soaked up the sun and wiggled our toes in sand. We marveled at sea stars, sting rays & colorful fish. We were captivated by pink sunrises, golden sunsets & burning red full-moon dusks. We watched as streaks of lightning pierced a dark night sky, and a colorful rainbow graced the morning's dawn. We met new friends, learned their stories, laughed with them, cried with them, and shared our common faith in the Creator who blessed us to be there together, embracing the beauty that surrounded us. It was an awesome week.

And suddenly, it was Friday evening…the night before the dreaded moving-out-and-going-home day. Cowboy and I decided to deviate from our normal routine and walk into town for dinner. Mistake #1. Never EVER leave a gorgeous, tranquil, private beach with lovely resort restaurant for a tent restaurant on a public beach. Never. Did you hear me? Don’t. Oh, the food was delicious, it was the experience that was excruciating. Inebriated girls stumbled into the sea and “somehow” lost their bikini bottoms. Men (and woman) blew cigar smoke right over our table. Two 60-something grannies decided to change their bathing suits, nearly losing their towels in the process. And then, as if a sign from above, it began to sprinkle. We walked back to our resort and stepped inside the lobby just as the skies opened up and torrential rains came pouring down.

Saturday morning we tossed our things in our bags, headed to the buffet for breakfast, said goodbye to our new friends, checked out of the resort, and headed to the ferry. Once there, I realized something important that would have been nice to have known exactly one week prior. Had I not been captivated by the easy-breezy path, I might have realized it sooner...I had purchased two round trip tickets for the ferry. Hmmm. Where WERE those tickets? Did I keep them? Did I toss them? As I opened suitcases, searched pockets, and dug through bags, the ferry pulled away from the dock. Darn.

After a thorough search, I came up empty handed. No tickets. Darn again. Cowboy rolled his eyes, approached the ticket booth, and bought two ONE WAY tickets to Cancun. We maneuvered our bags through the waiting area and plopped down on a bench. I opened the front zipper of my carry-on to stow away the receipts for the new tickets and guess what I found. Yeesh. The round trip tickets. Oops. This time a “SANDRA!” was attached to Cowboy’s eye-roll. Yikes.

We boarded the ferry, found a seat on the top deck, and made our way to the mainland as dark ominous clouds began to settle above us. We encountered traffic that doubled our transit time to the airport. We stood in a long line of grumpy passengers at the ticket counter, picked the wrong security checkpoint line, and got stuck behind a woman who apparently “looked suspicious” to the TSA. All the while, unbeknownst to us, a monsoon was fixin to hit Cancun. I’m not kidding. Monsoon.

We ambled to our gate where throngs of people filled the seats and overflowed to the floor. Sheets of rain pelted the windows. Grumpy home-goers were drinking their sorrows away in the airport bars. Annoying announcements were being made over ear-piercing loud speakers. Every flight was delayed by the storm.

We waited. And I got antsy. And we waited some more. And I paced.

Finally, four hours after we had arrived at the airport (two hours after we were scheduled to take off) our flight was called to board. “Just wait, San…no hurry,” said the cowboy. So I waited. Against my better judgment, I waited. I was the 2nd to the last person through the gate, and WHO do you think they chose for a “random search”…?  Me. They opened my carry-on, they opened my purse, they ran a metal-detector over me, they patted me down, and soon after they eradicated the last morsel of my dignity, they let me pass. And Cowboy chuckled. I saw it. And I wasn’t happy.

We descended the stairs to the tarmac where there was a bus waiting. Yes, a bus. The rains were so heavy that they were bussing passengers across the tarmac to the waiting plane. We boarded the bus, and I was mentally preparing to make a mad dash for those flight steps. I was DETERMINED to the be the FIRST ONE to board that dry plane, by golly! The other passengers were either old or carrying babies and car seats, so I was SURE I could win the race to the top.  My adrenaline was pumping…I was on my mark…and then Cowboy reached out, touched my arm and said “Just wait, San…no hurry.” So I waited. Against my better judgment, I waited. And I was the 2nd to the last person off the bus.

There was a looooong line of people on those steps waiting to board that plane. I was 2nd to the last in that never-ending line. I got wetter, and wetter, and wetter. The man behind me got impatient and began yelling “PUSH ‘EM IN AND RUN ‘EM OVER!” He sounded a lot like Cowboy (ahem). And it was in that moment that I realized…

The entire universe had conspired to put us right there, in that very place, at that very time. This could mean only one thing: Mexico was taunting me. I wasn’t smiling. Cowboy wasn’t smiling. The tarmac staff wasn’t smiling. And I silently cursed those stupid Mayan gods.

Hasta la vista, baby!

It’s a BOY!

“Pablo” was born to Baby on Sunday, April 17, shortly after midnight.  We are so very proud of this little guy!

He’s a real beauty, and a people-lover!  We can’t wait for you to meet him!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

The week of April 11 was rough for Cowboy and Girl 2.  Nightly checks at two-hour intervals were beginning to take their toll, and Cowboy was staggering around looking like he hadn’t slept in days.  When he came inside for breakfast following his early morning mare check, he said every sign was telling him we would soon have a foal.  Yep, he was sure it was going to happen TODAY!  He muttered something incoherent like “she’s really bagged up…looks like she’s waxing…soft in the poll…uhh…no, wait…I’M the one soft in the poll….SHE’S soft at the dock!”  (For you non-horse people out there, the “dock,” or top of the tail, gets soft just before a mare goes into the labor…the “poll,” on the other hand, is the top of a horse’s head!) It was very plain to see Cowboy needed a good long night of uninterrupted sleep.  But as we all know, there is no rest for the weary…and good things come to those who wait.

Cowboy and I had a meeting to attend, so arrangements were made for Girl 2 to stay behind and keep an eye on things, and she had strict instructions to text message me if anything started happening.  By 11:00 a.m. I was SURE she must be in the the middle of a tough delivery and she hadn’t texted me yet (the nerve!), so I sent her a message:

ME: “anything happening?”

EMMA: “nope. just moving around alot. how close are they when water breaks?”

ME: “CLOSE! Her water broke?”

EMMA: “no.”

I did a mental eye roll and then a new messaged popped up.

EMMA:  “when i go out to the barn she stands still and munches on hay. when i go inside she starts pacing and breathing hard.”

ME:  “stay out of the barn until she is down on the ground. i know from experience when you’re in labor you just want to be left alone.”

EMMA: “mom…really?…TMI.”

(For those of you not up on the acronym lingo, TMI stands for ‘Too Much Information.’)  I giggled and tossed my phone in my purse.  I would wait.  Good things come to those who wait.

When we returned home from our meeting, we anticipated a mare lying in her stall, but no…Baby stood in the corner, tossing her head at us.  Lifting her nose and curling her lips, she glared at us in defiance as if to say “GET OUT OF MY BARN!”

11:00 p.m.: still no foal. Cowboy scheduled “foal watch” with Girl 1 and Girl 2, and we headed to bed.

12:21 p.m.: I was rudely awakened by a slamming door and sat straight up in bed. I muttered to Brian “I think we have a baby,” as I heard boots running through the family room and up the stairs.  Girl 1 poked her head in the bedroom door, “DAD!  THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!” Then she turned on her heel and ran back down the stairs.

Cowboy laid, breathing deeply, no movement.  I reached out and touched him, “Brian…there’s a foal on the ground.”  He turned toward me, but laid silent. 

“Brian, are you awake?  Honey, Baby had her foal….” 

Slowly he sat up, and I could see him trying to clear his head.  He stood, walked to the bedroom door, closed it, then returned to the foot of the bed and looked at me. 

“Honey, turn on the light and get your clothes on,” I said, “Do you know what’s happening?” 

“Ummmm…yeah…something is in the house…?”

“No dear, it’s the foal.  Baby had her foal.”

“What?! How in the devil did it get in the HOUSE?"!”

Okay, this is where I realized some SERIOUS intervention would be necessary…so I got a little loud…

“BRIAN! GET YOUR CLOTHES ON AND GO TO THE BARN; THERE’S A FOAL ON THE GROUND!”

That did it.  He jumped as if shocked by a ‘ZAP!’  “Oh my GOSH!”  He grabbed his pants and his boots and took off for the barn.

By the time we reached the barn, the foal was on the ground, Baby was standing over him.  Within minutes, Pablo was up on his long wobbly legs, trying to get around to his momma, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to nurse.  So we waited…and waited…and waited…

At 2:00 a.m., Pablo was still standing, pacing back and forth in the stall, and he still hadn’t found the path to the udder.  I announced I was going back to bed. “I hope he figures out how to nurse soon,” I said, “he sure is a strong little guy; he hasn’t laid down yet!”

At 2:15 a.m., Brian joined me in the bedroom.  “The girls are going to watch him until he starts nursing.  I need some sleep.”

At 2:30 a.m., Lindsay popped her head in the door, “Dad, he’s still not nursing and he won’t lay down either.”  Brian sighed deeply and said “Can you give me about 30 more minutes?”  She could.  She did.  3:00 a.m. came around pretty quickly, and she knocked on the door once again.  “Dad…?  Still nothing…I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”  Once again, Cowboy rose, pulled on his pants and boots, and headed back to the barn.

At 5:00 a.m., I went out to see if I could relieve him and give him a chance to sleep.  Church would be starting in 5 short hours, and Cowboy was going to have to preach.  He really needed some rest.  When I got to the barn, he was on his knees milking Baby, trying to save as much of that all-important colostrum he could save.  “He still can’t do it, and he still has not laid down. Dummy Foal Syndrome. I called the vet.”  Three hours later, still no nursing, still no laying down, still no vet.  But good things come to those who wait.  Patiently.  Or…not so patiently. 

At 9:00 a.m., the vet finally arrived to a very sleepy (but still refusing to lie down) and quickly dehydrating (nine hours, no nourishment) foal.  Doc took a quick look, said “He’s too pretty to let anything happen to him, let’s fix this!” And in short order, the colt was tubed, the momma milked, and colostrum distributed directly into the colt’s stomach.  Pablo soon found his way to the ground, took his first nap, and we waited.  At 11:15 a.m., he stood and nursed for the first time!  See…good things come to those who wait!

Following church I asked Cowboy to lay down and nap for a while, but he insisted he would be fine.  I don’t know how he did it, but he got through the day on about 2 hours of sleep.  At 8:45 p.m., his head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. I wish I could say the story ends there.  But no.  At 9:00 p.m., there was a soft knock on our bedroom door, and Girl 2 peeked in.  “Dad…?  You awake…?  Pablo is constipated and really straining.  I think he needs an enema.”  From the lump next to me came a low rumbling growl.  Cowboy sat up…pulled on his pants and boots…mumbled “why do I DO this?” and he descended the stairs, journeying again to the barn.

And guess what…?  We are expecting foal #2 any day!  Good things come to those who wait.

What’s Not To Love About Summer?

This week has made Hoosiers all over the state breathe a sigh of relief because summer truly must be near!  The Maker has  blessed us with five days of gorgeous weather! 

This has made me stop to consider the things I love most about summer, and since you all are kind enough to act as if you care about my silly rambling thoughts, I thought I should share my top ten summer joys with you:

1.  Sunshine.  Now who doesn’t love sunshine?  It’s amazing!  It’s light, strength, health…it’s SUN! 

2.  Blue skies.  Have you NOTICED how BLUE the skies have been this week?  Man!  I don’t think I’ve been so infatuated with the sky ever in my life.  The color has been simply amazing.  Just look at that sky!

3.  Warm breezes.  Is there anything as lovely as a warm breeze on your skin?  The feel of it makes my cares just melt away.

4.  Open windows.  What good is a warm breeze if you can’t fling open the windows and let it blow through the house?  (Note:  you should not attempt this if you have allergies…fair warning.)

5.  Songbirds.  I love song birds.  Warm breezes + open windows +  song birds = happy Sandy.  Happy Sandy = Happy Family.  Happy Family = Good Life For All.  But that’s enough math for the day.

6.  Leafy trees.  Songbirds need leafy trees, and warm breezes blowing through leafy trees is such a relaxing sound.  Besides that, what good would a  hammock be if I had no leafy tree to put it under?  Except I don’t have a hammock, so I really can’t debate that point very well, but IF I had a hammock, it would be under my most favorite leafy tree (which I wrote a devotional about here).

7.  Freshly mown grass.  I love the smell of freshly mown grass.  Truly I do.  It smells like…like…summer!  And what’s better than summer?

8.  Newly baled hay.  It’s the only thing that MIGHT smell better than freshly mown grass.  The smell of fresh hay is such a wonderful smell…even though it makes my eyes water and my nose drip and my lungs wheeze and my skin break out in welts…I still love it! 

9.  Bare feet.  Simply put, my theory is that God intended feet to be bare or He would have created us with shoes.  That’s all there is to it.  I keep trying to convince Cowboy of this, but he claims he NEEDS his boots and he won’t budge on the matter.  He snickers every time I stub my toe.  But I will give credit where credit is due:  he no longer says “if you were wearing shoes that wouldn’t have hurt,” though the smirk on his face tells me he still thinks it.  

10.  Summer nights.  This has got to be the GREATEST of all summer greatness on the farm.  Especially when it comes automatically including #3, #4, #6, #7, #8, and #9.  Substitute #5 with frogs and spring peepers, and the absolute ONLY thing you could add to make a summer night ANY better, is the sound of rolling thunder and a gentle rain beginning just about the time you crawl into bed. 

Ahhhh…SUMMER!

Ageless

I’m going to tell you all a little secret about myself: I have become my mother <*Gasp!*> and I’m trying to figure out when this happened.

Now, don’t get me wrong…it is not a bad thing to be my mother… my mother is WONDERFUL!  Everyone who knows my mother loves her (and right now, as she is reading this, she is silently cursing me for making her the subject of this post!).  She’s silly and wild and full of spunk and crazy and funny…she’s loving and giving and thoughtful and prayerful and gifted and ageless…oh, there it is…that AGELESS thing.

My mom turned 40 when I was 16, and golly, she was OLD!  In a 16-year-old brain, everyone understands that 21 is the optimum age of life, and anyone over 21 is just plain ancient.  Not only was my mom OLD, she was incredibly embarrassing too.  For instance, it  was LUDICROUS that my mother had to do math in her head just to tell someone how old she was.  And I’m dead serious about this.  To this day, when someone asks my mom how old she is, she stops, rolls her eyes upward to think about it, looks at my dad, and then mumbles “Hmmm…let’s see…I was born in….” and then her fingers start moving as she counts it up.  At 16, this was a horrifying thing to watch.  

My dad is just the opposite.  The past few years Dad has been suffering from short term memory loss, but it has not affected his sense of how old he is.  For as long as I can remember, my dad has told me he is old.  It’s his excuse for everything under the sun, and I think in some weird way, he gets some sort of satisfaction out of his “old-ness.” Honestly, when it comes right down to it, my dad could probably tell you his age in years, days, hours, and POSSIBLY minutes…except for the math part…that’s another thing my dad always told me when I was younger, “You’re smarter than I was, so do your math.”

ANYHOO, through my parents’ “ageless vs. ageful” thing I have seen a bizarre cycle unfold.  Mom, of course, has no real sense of how old she is, so she doesn’t focus on feeling old.  Because she doesn’t feel old, she is fun-loving and crazy and silly, which in turn keeps her young.  Isn’t that a beautiful thing?  Dad, with his overwhelming sense of time and age, focuses on his years and suddenly begins to feel sick.  When he feels sick, he focuses on how old he is, which in turn makes him feel sicker.  See the pattern here?  This is why I’ve had my fair share of chuckles over that point in life many people commonly refer to as a “mid-life crisis.”  Oh, who am I kidding.  I don’t just chuckle, I give it a full-on laugh-out-loud bellow!  My dad has had a few mid-life crises.  His generally come in the form of worrying about his age and his health.  My mom just does not understand what the big deal is.  To her, there is no such thing as a mid-life crisis.  It doesn’t apply to her likely because she doesn’t know how old she is.

As I began to have children of my own, I began to secretly hope I could embrace my mother’s form of denial.  And I did.  It came to full fruition one day that dawned last fall.  As I washed my face that morning, I peered a little closer at the image in the mirror.  My first thought was “Who is this person?” Then “Sheesh, the gray just keeps multiplying!” Followed by “Wow, is that an age spot?!” I did a quick mental-math calculation and came up with…gulp…40?!  Okay, wait…that can’t be right…do it again.  Oh my goodness.  I’m FORTY?!  Wait…did I just count that on my fingers?!  Uh-oh.  Houston, we have a problem…make that TWO problems:

1) I’m 40.

2) I had to count it on my fingers. 

Oh wow…when did this happen?  When did I have to start counting my age?  And when did I reach 40?  Wasn’t my mother just 40?  I didn’t think I was a day over 16!  Immediately the aches and pains began in my joints and I felt sick to my stomach.  “I’m OLD…oh wait, that’s my dad talking…STOP IT!  I am NOT old, and I can deny my way right out of this mess if I think clearly.”  And it was at that moment, as I looked at the strange person in the mirror, that I decided something very epic in my life.  I decided to embrace 40 in all its wondrous glory!  I decided not to care that wrinkles were forming around my eyes and mouth.  I decided not to care that sun spots were popping out on my face and shoulders, and I decided not to care that my hair wanted to be gray instead of brown.  I just wouldn’t care, because these things are good and lovely, and they show the world just how far I’ve been in life, and if someone looks at me and thinks of me as OLD, why should I care?  I am only as old as I feel, right?  RIGHT! I made no more appointments at the salon for hair color, eyebrow waxes or manicures, and when Girl 1 visited my stylist, Liz-the-beauty-maker, she always brought home messages for me.  Liz was worried about my loss of sanity, the dear girl, but the decision was made. 

And I lived one very long blissful winter in denial. 

Sunday after church, it was evident Spring had sprung!  It was a glorious day, and Cowboy and I had one of those rare moments of Ballenger life: sitting in lawn chairs in the back pasture, watching the sunset.  We began to chat about our 20+ years in our church (this is us 20+ years ago on our wedding day at our church…oh my golly we were young!).  We talked about various members past and present that we’ve had the benefit of loving over those years. I’m not sure how or why, but our conversation seemed to have started with the oldest and progressed down in age until we hit  the teens.  We stopped there for a moment to consider how long we have known Jacob, who only yesterday was a sweet, loving, smiling, huggable brute of 5-year-old kid, and today is a sweet, loving, smiling, huggable (that is, if you can reach him) very tall 16-year-old.  We wondered over the time that escaped between age 5 and 16, then continued down the line of youngsters until we got to Baby Luke, that precious miracle that our entire church family prayed for and fell deeply in love with before he ever entered the world.  He’s sweet and adorable and perfect, and we all swoon when he smiles.  I was focusing on the swoony smile part when Cowboy dropped the bomb that exploded my peaceful little world. This is what he said:  “If Luke grows up as fast as Jacob did, you and I will be old codgers before we know it.  When Luke is 20…we’ll be in our sixties.”  I was stunned.  Are you KIDDING ME?  SIXTIES?!  Wait, my mom is 60-something…I can’t be SIXTY!

This of course started my head spinning and aches and pains began in my joints, and I felt sick to my stomach.  I sat there in silence for a minute or two, processing the thought of it all.  Then with all of the energy my ancient body could muster, I looked at Cowboy and it dawned on me that I had not consulted him in my 40-year-old denial and quest for “all natural.”  He’s the one who has to look at me every morning and every night, after all.  So I took a chance and asked him, “Honey, do you mind that my hair is turning gray?”  He looked at me with those loving blue eyes and his sweet smile, cocked his head to one side and spoke softly:  “You…should color it. Sorry. I guess I’m vain like that.”

Humph.  Well then, so much for embracing 40…er, ahem 41 (now)…in all its blazing glory.  So much for the blissful denial that allowed me to think my hair was still brown, and wrinkles didn’t grace my eyes and mouth, and my shoulders were void of sunspots.  So much for “all natural.”  I guess I’ll deal with my own personal mid-life crisis by making an appointment with Liz-the-beauty-maker.  I hear she has missed me.  Boy, she has the work cut out for her!

Angels in Hay Season

The girls and I just returned from a mini holiday at Kings Island near Cincinnati. They had never been to Kings Island before. I hadn't been in 22 years. Brian doesn't enjoy Kings Island...AT ALL! He hates the rides, he hates the walking, and he hates the crowds. I, on the other hand, LOVE IT! Going to Kings Island was a family tradition for as long as I can remember. Being from a large family, it was not hard to find enough people to go together and get the reduced "group rate." (My mother reminded me this morning that she remembers paying $6 per person...a far cry from what we paid this week!)

As a kid, the day of that "big event" brought alot of excitement and anticipation. We would all gather at Uncle Paul and Aunt Dee's house early in the morning. The men would squeeze into the front of Uncle Paul's blue pick up truck with the white camper shell. My mom, two or three of my aunts, and a whole passel of cousins would climb in the back where there was a mattress and a cooler full of food. Singing songs and laughing, we would crane our necks to peer out of the camper shell window vents, each of us hoping to be the first "spotter" of the Eiffel Tower. It was always a great deal of fun! We would ride ride ride, eat lunch in the parking lot, take in a show, and ride some more until the sun set and the fireworks began. (Funny, I don't remember the rides home. Probably because we kids would sleep all the way, likely being carried to bed by equally-exhausted parents!)

That trip was always a summer highlight for our family, and I really wanted my kids to experience something akin to it, so Brian and I agreed they deserved a mini vacation. I talked to my best friend Rita (who has 4 children close to our girls' ages), and we made the plans and reservations for a two-day event. In a nutshell, we had a BLAST! Rita, who is not a rider by any stretch of the imagination, followed the two little ones while I took off with the five teenagers. It was so nice for our families to enjoy the time together.

On the flip side however, was the "fun" that Brian had here at home. As the girls and I were leaving Tuesday night, Brian headed out to pick up two wagonloads of hay. While we girls were chill-axing at the resort, Brian and three of his buddies arrived at the field to find only one wagon load of hay ready. They waited about an hour for the 2nd wagon before they headed out. On the way home they had a flat tire...ever try to change a tire under a wobbly load of hay? When they finally got back to the barn and started unloading and stacking, one of the helpers pulled a shoulder muscle. Needless to say, the job didn't get done Tuesday night! Brian was exhausted and frustrated when we talked early Wednesday morning. After I hung up the phone I said a little prayer specifically asking God to aid my husband in his tasks at home.

Thursday morning dawned and I called Brian again. He was trying to figure out how to give riding lessons to five students and unload and stack that hay. Feeling guilty for being away from home when he needed us, I offered to leave the park early enough to be home in time for the girls to instruct the lessons. He insisted we stay and enjoy our time there. "I'll work something out. Don't worry."

I should learn by this point in my life that I don't need to worry when God is in the matter, for "something" did work out, and it was nothing Brian planned. God delivered angels in the bodies of our students' parents! While the girls and I wrapped up our "mini vacation" and Brian instructed students in their riding lessons, three parents and a male student unloaded and stacked hay. And when the final lesson was over, that student and her grandfather stayed to help feed horses. Those acts of kindness were a major blessing to Brian and us girls. Those men and that one little girl performed a labor of love that served us all! Yet again I have been treated to a "God moment" lesson. Yet again, I am humbled to think that His promises were fulfilled in these acts of kindness. "Seek not ye what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, neither be ye of doubtful mind. For all these things do the nations of the world seek after: and your Father knoweth that ye have need of these things. But rather seek ye the kingdom of God; and all these things shall be added unto you. Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."

Where Does the Time Go?

For months I've been thinking I should update our blog. It seems only yesterday we were laughing at Shotgun's Predicament, but more than half a year has passed since then! Where did the time go?

So much has happened since my last posting, and I could kick myself for not having a journal record of it all. Emma celebrated her 14th birthday, a new foal was born, we went on our annual spring trail riding vacation, many new students started riding at Jordan's Crossing, Lily performed in her third dance recital, Lindsay graduated from high school...where did the time go?

We just completed the 2009 Wayne County 4-H Fair. We were there for 9 days and 8 nights, but it flew by with a "WHOOSH!" It seemed we were moving in one day...moving out the next.
It was Lindsay's 10th and final year as a 4-H member, and it was so difficult to wake up every day thinking "this is her last one." 10 years of memories flashed through my mind so many times this week, and I kept asking myself "where did the time go?"

It seems everything moves so much faster these days. We stay so busy. Days swirl around us and fade away before we even realize we've lived them. I find myself trying desperately to capture every moment of these special days and hold them -- just briefly -- in my memory. And still...I sit and wonder..."where did the time go?"

Summertime

Have you ever considered how many songs there are about "summertime?" The one that started this thought this morning was the old blues-y "Summertime and the livin's easy..." I sang it out loud (and then laughed when it occurred to me that I could learn a little bit from that first line!). Since I constantly have songs swimming through my brain, I immediately jumped from that lazy dreamy tune to the much faster tempo of "Summertime, summertime, sum-sum-summertime..." (which seems to more aptly fit the pace our family keeps!). If I would ask my daughters for a summertime song, they would of course mention the Kenny Chesney song, "two bare feet on the dashboard.....Perfect song on the radio......it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine, it's summertime." Being a kid once myself, I'm transported back to the memories of many-a-time on the front porch swing with my momma and little sis singing "In the good old summertime, in the good old summertime, Strolling through the shady lanes with your baby mine." (My sister and I would always giggle when we got to the part "she's your tootsey wootsey!") My, how music has changed over the years...and oh, how the pace of life has changed as well! But as much as I love looking back on the seemingly slower days of my youth, I would never want to trade these faster-paced, fun and fulfilling days of NOW!

The "Big Event" in the B5 family summertime is the Wayne County 4-H Fair. We were blessed to spend nine days with our daughters and ever-increasing circle of adopted family of 4-H'ers. What a treat! Of course we were exhausted by week's end, but wouldn't trade the memories, experiences, or the opportunities the Lord provided us to touch those young lives for any amount of extra zzzzzz's! Yet another blessing awaited us upon our return home to our Jordan's Crossing family. Our student list is quickly expanding, and the smiles, hugs and laughs we experience in this daily journey bring us so much joy!

Yes, it is "SUMMERTIME." The livin' here may not be exactly easy (we don't usually experience shady lane strolls with our tootsey wootsey, after all!), but it isn't hard to flip on the radio and tap our bare feet to that perfect song, or take a moment to dance through the sum-sum-summer tasks. And though that may not sound like much, it's always enough to make us happy. And isn't that what summertime is really all about?

Vacationing and Homecoming

Business as usual has prevented me from posting for a while. Spring has sprung and we have been keeping very busy.

Before I share the details of our recent vacation, however, I must brag on my two oldest daughters and our "adopted" family of 4H members comprising the Wayne County 4H Equine Judging Team. Two weeks ago our senior and junior teams traveled to Alexandria, Indiana, to take part in the area 4H & FFA equine judging competition. Both teams gained a spot at the state competition to be held this weekend by placing 4th (seniors) and 1st (juniors). As two of only three returning veterans, Lindsay and Emma were both surprised by and thrilled with their teams' performances. The excitement intensified, however, when the individual results were revealed a few days later. Our daughters were at the top of the lists! Lindsay placed 2nd overall in the senior division and Emma placed 1st overall in the junior division. We are so very proud of our girls and just as equally as proud of their team members' collective achievements. GREAT JOB Wayne County!!

Moving on...Last week we were blessed to enjoy some much-needed relaxation time on our camping/trail riding vacation. Late into the night Sunday found us packing two trucks and two trailers, and after rising early Monday morning, we loaded our three daughters, two of our dogs, and five of our horses for the two-hour drive to meet our friends at Brown County State Park near Nashville, Indiana. What a TREAT! We have ridden the trails in Brown County several times in the past, but have never had the opportunity to stay five nights and six days. Our extended stay allowed us to seek out trails we'd never ridden before, and it was a wonderful trip! We could not have hand picked better weather. Sun beams and warm breezes followed us down hillsides and up ridges each day as we logged 75 miles and 36 hours of riding for the week. We were blessed to see the majesty of God's creation unfold a little more each day as tiny buds which graced trees and shrubbery on Monday turned to full-blown foliage by Saturday. Wondrous sights awaited us in areas that would have been too difficult to traverse on foot or by car. Trail riding is a favorite past time for our family, and this spring's experience was certainly no exception! If you've never observed the beauty of God's creation on horseback, we highly recommend it! Here are a couple of photos of the trails:
Above: Brian and the girls make their way on the trail. This was our first ride of the week when horses and humans are still fresh! Below: Ballenger and Abernathy families in the valley of trail 7 on the way to Story.As difficult as it was to think about leaving Brown County Saturday afternoon, we were all truly longing for home. It was nice to pull into our driveway, get out of the truck, and hear the nickers of our equine family members who had been left behind all week. They may have been happy to see us, but they were THRILLED to see their siblings! Brian and I laughed as we stood at the fence and watched them all once again determine their places in the pecking order. Baby, Dixie, Sassy, Tango, and Shotgun served us well on the trails of Brown County, and we smiled as they each took a few well-deserved rolls in the pasture. They seemed just as happy to be home as the human members of the B5 Gang!

Emma can't seem to find the right end of Sassy! Acutally, she's prepping her saddle bags for the morning trail ride.
Tango decides he needs a little nap before he hits the trail again. Lindsay takes the opportunity to use him as a leaning post.
Lily and Sandy enjoy a moment together in the quiet scenery offered at trail's end in Story, Indiana.

Looking for Signs of Spring

We've been teased with a few peeks of sunshine and warm breezes lately, and it's causing us to look a little closer for those tell-tale signs of spring we "Hoosiers" get excited about. The green shoots of the lily plants have poked through the ground, buds are forming on my lilac shrub, and robins are rockin' around the barn. (I can't think of a more pleasing spring morning combination than a hot cup of coffee in my hand and the sound of a robin's song as I sit at the breakfast table. Joy!) The coming of spring also brings about a few extra chores that have been awaiting better weather. Brian has been working on our "old" barn which is being converted into equipment storage, and building fence for two additional horse turnouts.



A double-whammy prevented me from posting last week: first I was sick (thankfully I was the only member of our family who came down with that nasty little virus), and then our modem went bad. We were lost without internet and email acitivty for the first couple of days, but it didn't take long for us to realize that life really does go on without access to the world wide web! Of course it made a few items of business quite a bit more difficult, but we were able to manage.



I have new photos to post this time. The first batch is from the surprise birthday party we had for Emma on her 13th birthday in February. We were blessed with a BEAUTIFUL day and were thrilled to celebrate with about 40 guests in our barn.










The second batch is of the color guard team that Lindsay and Emma enjoy riding with. We were happy to offer the team an indoor riding opportunity on that extremely COLD night two weeks ago!




We're looking forward to hosting another 4H club's clinic in two weeks and plan to post photos from that event in upcoming blogs.

Happy Signs-of-Spring Hunting to you all!

Visitors, visitors

What a blessing our barn has already been in its short span of existence! Brian and I have been kicking ourselves for not yet starting a visitor's book for the barn, so we sat down this morning to brainstorm and write down names of people who have come to the barn since its completion. Our brainstorming session came up with 140 visitors since February 1, 2008. That is, 140 different visitors! We were very careful not to count anyone more than once since many people are here frequently or have returned for repeat visits, but I'm sure we'll realize that we've missed some here and there.

Last night we were thrilled to watch our color guard team practice in the barn. They were scheduled to be here last week, but bad winter weather forced us to postpone. Eleven riders on eleven horses were in our facility all at once, performing simple maneuvers...what a treat! In addition to those 11 riders were 21 spectators watching from the sidelines. Our biggest concern was parking for trucks with trailers, but we had no trouble parking 9 cars and 6 trucks with trailers in our parking area. It was a great night!

Last week we hosted a horse health care clinic with our veterinarian for the Rough Riders 4H club. Ice and snow the day before had cancelled school functions and knocked out power for many in the community, so we weren't sure how many to expect for the clinic. We were pleasantly surprised with 35 visitors that night, and everyone enjoyed gleaning from Dr. Lance's knowledge.

We're happy to announce the addition of two students to next week's lesson schedule! God is so good! News of our mission is spreading quickly, and we're so excited to be a part of His great plan for these young lives.

Hibernating or Rejoicing...?

Today is a gloomy winter day. It's the kind of day that makes it difficult to remember what it feels like to have the sun on your face, or what it looks like when everything isn't the depressing monochrome gray which has permeated our lives for months. It's the kind of day that calls for a mug of hot java, another log on the fire, and warm fuzzy slippers....the kind of day for hibernation. The horses feel no different. They weren't anxious to go outside today. They were as content to stay in their warm cozy stalls as I would have been to stay in my warm cozy bed.

Sunday, in comparison, was a wonderful Hint-Of-Spring day! It was the kind of day that made us joyful at the prospect of entering into our house of worship....that made us jump from our beds and bask in the glow of sunbeams illuminating the room....that made us anxious to look in the "summer clothes" pile for our wardrobe choices....the kind of day for rejoicing! The horses were rejoicing too! They would not be denied their desire to bask in the sunshine, and much to our dismay, they immediately rolled in their choicest of joys....mud! The pasture was electric with their excitement!

In my devotional time this morning, I reflected on my attitude today in comparison with my attitude on Sunday. Weather undoubtedly influences emotion, but attitude is ultimately a choice. I continued to think on this as I considered the activities we will take part in this week.

The calendar is FULL. The riding facility hosted a mock horse show for the Wayne County Equine Judging Team last night, will be hosting drill team practice for Wayne County Color Guard tonight, and a horse health clinic with Dr. Lance Alexander for the Rough Riders 4H Club tomorrow. Lily's three dance classes will offer parents a "watch night" Thursday evening, and 30 minutes later Brian and I will attend an all-important leadership meeting for our Horse & Pony Association. In conjunction with each of these events are the regularly-scheduled lessons for Jordan's Crossing students. Needless to say, hibernation cannot win out! There is simply too much to prepare for and do.

It is exhausting if we dwell only on the work portion of this "preparing and doing," but if we look a little deeper we realize that it is through the work that we are both blessed and a blessing to others. Our sacrifices (and I honestly shudder to use that word because I don't feel as if I'm really sacrificing anything) bring joy to others...and in turn, we are blessed to share in their joy. It's a cycle that we can choose to continue or break. It's all about attitude.

What attitude will you choose today? Gray and hibernation (serving self)? Or sunshine and rejoicing (serving the Lord)? "...choose you this day whom ye will serve...as for me and my house, we will serve THE LORD." Joshua 24:15

And then there were eight!

It's been a busy season for Jordan's Crossing at the B5 Barn! We are very proud to announce the birth of our youngest family member! At 6:09 p.m. on Tuesday, February 5th, while surrounded by an awe struck B5 gang, our 13 year old mare, Star, gave birth to a beautiful little filly. Within moments of her birth, the barn was bustling with visitors anxious to greet the eighth and most recent member of the B5 Boogietime barn family. Already living up to her name, Zoe (which, we have learned, is a Greek word meaning "Life"), is a lively, loving, inquisitive, and energetic little foal. She absolutely LOVES greeting our littlest visitors by poking her little pink nose into their faces as if to say "Hey, you're just my size!" (A photo of Zoe will be posted in the coming days.)

Speaking of our "littlest visitors," we now have 5 students who attend scheduled lessons on a weekly basis, not to mention the growing number of visitors who stop in periodically just to visit, pet, or groom the equine members of our family. Not surprisingly, our horses (even Zoe in her short 7 days of life) are willing to fulfill their duty by providing support to each and every child who visits. It is such a thrill to watch these children blossom in the presence of a horse. What a miracle to behold!

Of course, no new adventure is without its share of hurdles. First and foremost, 4H has begun and our calendar is bursting at the seams. Our girls don't do anything half-way. They are of the opinion that if you don't do it ALL, then it must not be worth doing AT all. That's why they've chosen to be in four different 4H clubs. Add ballet, tap, and tumbling class to that meeting load, and it's no wonder I'm on the road driving the wheels off my truck on a daily basis! During the really busy times, I feel a little sorry for myelf and long for a quiet night of "HOME." Then I kick myself and remember that "this too shall pass..." all too quickly! We must always look on the positive side. At least I have these moments of conversation while on the road with my gang! The second minor hurdle involves our most popular lesson horse, Dixie. She surprised us with a broken molar and had to have surgery at Purdue two weeks ago. She was immediately taken out of our lesson-horse line up, and we were a bit concerned that her favored riders wouldn't accept any other horse. We need not have worried. Dixie's momma, a 15 year old mare named Baby, gracefully stepped into her place and the students seemed content riding her for back up. In full confirmation of their contentment, I was blessed to overhear a conversation between one of those students and a friend of mine in our barn the other day. After being introduced to my friend, the young student told him that she used to ride Dixie, but now she rides Baby for her lessons. My friend responded by saying "I know Baby. She was born on my farm. She was my horse when she was little." The student looked up wide eyed and said, "Wow...you must really miss her!"

Well, I'm not sure how much Baby is missed at my friend's farm these days, but I am sure that Dixie was sorely missed around here while she was gone! One young student was so concerned about her that he called us following her surgery to check on her. Daily visits to her stall with pats of love by little hands and "oohs" and "ahs" over the "boo-boo" on her face have helped her heal. She can't yet be used in lessons, but everyone is sure glad to see her again fill that once-empty stall. No one was quite as excited as Dixie herself, though, on the day she returned home. As we led her through the barn that day, we laughed as she stopped and pranced at each stall, poking her nose between the bars and softly knickering hello to each of her equine family members. Upon entering her stall and taking a sniff around the place, she settled into her familiar living space with a sigh. I took a moment to join in her pleasure of peace and quiet with a sigh of my own. A few short minutes later I exited the barn with a smile and thought You're absolutely right, Dixie, there's no place like home!