Wednesday, October 10, 2012

A Real Cowgirl

Last week, my friend Majil introduced me to a real, live cowgirl (as opposed to a fake, live cowgirl). She wore boots that were not bedazzled and were used for more than just line dancing. And she threw words around like "round pen" and "tack room" and "manure removal."

In other words, she spoke my language.

SIDE NOTE: I also speak "shoes," "homemade baked goods," and "international travel." But that is neither here nor there.

Majil and I listened and absorbed every word she said. I became her instant fan and secretly wished we could go home with her and sleep in her barn. Instead, she invited us down to her ranch next week to meet her horses.

Formal introductions are a must in the horse world.

When Majil and I went to Argentina four years ago, we spent an entire day riding horses on the Pampas. I sang "Oklahoma" at the top of my lungs and Majil petted their pet water buffalo named Tito. Obviously, it was magical.

Our wrangler was named Alejandro, of course, and was every bit as gorgeous as you can imagine. And I did my absolute best to flirt with him. However, we both realized it could never go anywhere since I had to leave by 3:00 that afternoon.

The three of us rode for hours, across the plains, through the trees, and I remember thinking that life could not get better than this (unless, of course, I was actually dating Alejandro and he brought cookies for a snack).

Horses are something you breathe in and never breathe out. Trust me, that is not a weird sentence.

Many of you may not know this, but I owned a horse at one time. For a brief, shining time in my life, I, too, was a real cowgirl. My horse's name was Honey and she was a registered Quarter Horse and a register Buckskin (for those who speak horse). She was a long-awaited surprise and I loved her immediately.

Don't judge my perm. It was 1991. Totally legit.

I had grown up taking riding lessons and finding any opportunity available to be around horses. I love their smell. Love their ears. Love their soft noses. Love their spirit.

So, it was a wonderful, fantastic surprise to meet someone who feels the same way Majil and I do and can actually breathe them in for a living.

Our new cowgirl friend is starting a ministry on her ranch where she rescues horses from abuse and neglect and pairs them with children who have experienced hurt or loss. In a way, they help to rehabilitate each other. And in the middle of all of it, you see powerful analogies of how God has rescued us and is in the process of rehabilitating us back to Himself.

It is brilliant.

And horsey.

And just exactly where I should be on the weekends.

 Now all we need is Alejandro. And cookies.


  1. I think you are rocking that perm, Sarah!!

    1. Thank you, Sara. I was very proud of it at the time. :)

  2. You gave me a love of horses, Seester. And perms. (Though mine was in 2000, and I looked vaguely like a curly pyramid.)

    I love this. And Majil. And you. And cookies. And Carr.

    Love, the Seester

    1. Your perm was glorious. Don't ever doubt that.

  3. I love everything about this. Everything.

  4. Sarah! I want in. How did we not talk about this at lunch. Oh. I know. Because I wasn't caught up on the FC.

    Horses are something you breathe in and never breathe out.

    Is the most true sentence I've read in such a long time. I keep tasting it. Rolling it around in my brain's mouth like the perfect piece of chocolate that uncreases some of those deep folds in your brain. Thank you for such a treat!