I have always been and animal lover, and have kept so many things as pets it’s hard to list them all. Every living thing delighted me, from smallest bug to the largest of animals. That may seem unusual for a girl, but I guess I was an unusual girl, and that’s just fine with me, because I wouldn’t have missed the down to earth fun of enjoying all of God’s creature creations for the world. I still do.
Like many, I dreamed of owning a horse from the time I was a very young girl, and made that dream come true with a lot of help from God after I graduated from high school. I got my first job, and became friendly with a neighbor who was a horse lover. She took me to a stable she went to frequently, and there I fell in love with a handsome brown Appaloosa with a white spotted blanket on his hind quarters. He was a solid animal, 15 hands, and very healthy, except for one thing. He had been a hack horse, and needed some taming because he developed a terrible saddle sore and became rebellious because of it…who could blame him? For me it was love at first site and I wanted that horse to be mine, I asked God to please work that out for me.
God doesn’t always give you exactly what you want right away, He likes to teach life lessons. This was one of those times. I called the owner of the stable, and told him how much I really wanted the horse, that I only had a few hundred dollars, which of course wasn’t enough…and even worse, someone else had just purchased the horse for more than $300.
As I look back, I can’t believe what I did next, I called the new owner, who had purchased the horse for his daughter, and said, if she decided she didn’t like the horse, I’d love to buy it. He told me she was having a little trouble handling the horse, no surprise to me with the saddle sore he had. But he wasn’t ready to sell. I said even though I hoped things worked out for his daughter, I loved the horse, and if he ever changed is mind, please call..giving him my number.
It was a few weeks later that I received a phone call from the owner, telling me that they decided to sell after all, my heart jumped for joy, but I had to tell him I only had a few hundred dollars, not as much as he had paid. He said that would be fine, if I could arrange to have the horse moved. The arrangements were made, with the help of my horse-loving neighbor.
So God gave me the pleasure for a few years of my life of loving a horse back to health, and enjoying many a ride on a bareback pad with the most comfortable bridle/bit I could find (never liked a saddle even though I had one, or putting an uncomfortable bit in a horses mouth) through the woods, into abandoned apple and pear orchards. Only once did he get spooked and throw me off his back onto the ground, not intentionally, and he turned right around and nudged at me with his nose, so concerned that he had hurt me.
When it came time to say goodbye, I gave another girl who always dreamed of having a horse the same gift that was given me, she purchased the horse for what I had paid for it, loved it, and kept in touch with me, even letting me know when and where Major was put out to pasture to live out his last years.
One of my happier memories…and who knows, maybe there’s another horse in my future, we do live in what they call “horse country” in our part of the State of New Jersey.
During my childhood “Good Friday” was good because we would be dying eggs, and in a day or two I was going to be hunting for Easter Eggs. I knew it was also a day that we took special time to remember Jesus dying on the cross to pay the penalty for our sins, but as a child, the fun part of it seemed more important. The depth of meaning of what Jesus did came later.
When we were children, there was a point where my parents decided that we would do our Easter Egg hunting on Saturday morning rather than Sunday morning, so that we could have fun on Saturday, then focus on the joyful significance of Easter on Sunday. My husband and I carried that tradition on with our own children. I remember going to sunrise services some Easter mornings, not every year, but several years. I remember wearing dressy cloths on Easter; a frilly dress, a nice Easter bonnet, white gloves, and white patent leather shoes. From Easter on the bright colorful spring cloths were what you were supposed to wear, no more dark colors of winter.
Being raised by a father that was an intellectual, I approached new things with some skepticism and researched almost everything that I was told about anything, including the reality of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ on a cross for my/our sins. Being raised by a mother who accepted things easily by faith, I learned that there is a point where you have to put aside skepticism and by faith, believe in what is written in the Bible about what Jesus did for us on the cross. Then when I was old enough to think for myself, some very real spiritual things happened within me, it is hard to explain, I just knew that I knew that it was all true and real, and that God and I had a close relationship because of what Jesus had done on that cross…”The Old Rugged Cross”, do you remember that song? I’m going to try and write the words from memory, there may be a mistake or two, but here goes:
On a hill far away, stood an old rugged cross,
the emblem of suffering and shame,
and I love that old cross, where the dearest and best,
for a world of lost sinners was slain,
So I’ll cherish that old rugged cross,
till my trophies at last I lay down,
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
and exchange it one day for a crown.
How did I do? These are words with great meaning.
Since Mel Gibson’s “Passion of the Christ” movie was produced, I try to watch it on Good Friday, I can’t bear watching the beatings, and have to turn away, but it impresses on me the reality of what was done.
But Easter Morning is a celebration, a celebration of the fact that Jesus conquered death, rose again, and because He did so, those who believe that He is who He said He is, and that He did what He said He did, can look forward to living forever with him and all those who have believed before. It can’t get any better than that.
Wishes for a wonderful weekend from our home to yours.
My first car was a “hand-me-down” from my Dad, his old Plymouth Valiant station wagon with it’s slanted-six engine, and standard shift on the column. It was Grey, I learned to drive in that car with my Dad at my side, but when it became my car, I painted large colorful flowers on it, wearing my fringed vest and leather headband. I had my first accident in that car…slamming into the back of a car which in turn slammed into a Cadillac in front of it…why just mess up one car when you can mess up two? Actually I felt terrible and broke down and cried, and was happy no one was hurt. I guess Dad must have handled all of the insurance matters, I don’t remember him getting angry or saying much about it…one of those things you think about in retrospect and wish your parent was there to thank them for.
Getting to the 1964 Mustang…which, by the way, made it’s debut 44 years ago today, I didn’t get mine new. After wrecking the station wagon, I went out car-shopping and it was love at first sight when I saw the used 1964 Mustang in good condition, white, with a black vinyl roof, 4-on-the-floor stick shift, and most important of all, a radio that worked. I went home and asked my Dad to come with me to help me buy the car…he was great at dealing. At one point, however, I was a wreck, because he told the salesman that if he didn’t take the price we were offering, we would be leaving, I watched in horror as he began to stand to leave, and open-mouthed just looked at him and started to get up myself honoring my Dad’s decision, but the salesman said “just one minute”, left the room, and came back, and sold the car for what my Dad offered. That was a great lesson to me. Wish you were here to hug ya, Dad, thanks.We’ll get into the accident that I had with that car another time….maybe.
A few months ago I was involved in a discussion about, of all things, the Hula-Hoop. It set off a lot of memories, and only now am I getting here to post some thoughts…only to find that today is the anniversary of the patenting of the hula-hoop in 1963 by Hasbro Toys. I would have been about 11 or 12 then, and remember getting my first hula-hoop. It was a lot of fun, and great exercise. I had great fun with it, until one day it was missing. The next day I saw the girl next door playing with a hula-hoop and surprise surprise, it looked JUST like the one I had. So I went over, and confronted her, asking her where she got it. She said her parents had purchased it for her, but I knew better, the marking that I had put on it to identify it as mine was there. How did the story end? I decided that it wasn’t worth fighting over. I don’t remember exactly what happened, whether I ever got the hula hoop back, or lost interest, there were so many other things to do in the great outdoors, and she remained a friend.
Here’s a GREAT video of a talented young man in Ireland doing tricks with hula-hoops. Turn down, or off the sound if you don’t like lively music. Enjoy…he’s great!
We were still living in our home in Nixon/Edison, NJ, and I was old enough to read. One or perhaps two of my siblings had been born at that time. Being the oldest, I can remember helping with many things, like “potty training” and other “fun” things like that.
I have a specific memory of one such time when we were trying to teach one of my brothers or sisters using what was a small wooden seat with a hole in the middle, and a white plastic “catcher” to put it delicately under it…do you boomers remember those? I know, why remember something like that…moving right along…
I remember it was a very snowy day, and I was reading to my brother or sister as they sat, all about work to be done, pink rings in bathtubs, cats A, B and C, pink that grew and grew until the snow outside was completely pink as pink could be. What a fun book, fun memory, I can picture the day, it was cold and snowy outside, and I could just picture what it would be like if it were all pink.
Happy birthday to the late Dr. Seuss, and thanks for many wonderful memories, and happy books.
“, which followed “The Cat in the Hat”.