At Storybook Farm by Susan L.

  I wandered down to the horse farm yesterday morning. The sun was shining, it was lovely and warm. I handed over a waiver to the owner, taking responsibility for my own safety. This was necessary to be able to go whenever I want. She was heading into town so I had the place to my self. Sort of.
  I spent some time simply watching the swallows before heading over to a paddock with two gray thoroughbreds. I have learned the best places to scratch over the years and it wasn't long before the mare was licking her lips and chewing. This is horse language telling me of her enjoyment and that she was happy to be near by, that she wanted to be my friend. Her gelding paddock buddy also benefitted. She began to groom him with her teeth as I scratched and rubbed her shoulder and hips.
  We spent a most enjoyable half hour or so before they wandered off to nibble at the lush grass.
  There is a pair of donkeys who have free run of the barnyard. There's not much grass which helps keep their weight down. Donkeys can get fat on the smell of grass. There's one shaggy gray one with the black crucifix mark on her shoulders and down her back that I have taken a bit of a shine to.
  As she, too, enjoyed some good scratching, I pondered the cross and what it represents. Legend says God bestowed this gift on the donkey who carried Jesus into Jerusalem. Ever since then, donkeys have displayed the honour.
  It feels right to be at this farm. Tough, but right. My own barn memories bubble up. Some good, some not so good. I realised that every animal who died on my watch had taken a piece of me with it. I wasn't aware that God was part of my life at the time so there was nothing to heal the sadness, guilt and regret that a poor, frozen, newborn lamb would awaken in my heart.
  This happened despite the four hour barn checks that ran from January to March. First lambs and kids, then the calves and foals. It was a gruelling schedule. I'd sleep on the couch fully dressed because once I was in bed, there was no way I could face a February blizzard at four AM.
  I think that's why I like the donkeys so much. There's no connection, no history to overcome.
  I am thankful, too, that the Lord will heal the wounds in my heart. It's time to let them go.
  "The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." Jn 10:10