The Post I Never Thought I'd Write

Something happened.

In the blink of an eye, I was partially transformed into a little girl again- but part of me remained a grown woman. Part of me was standing in a hospital room, hearing a stranger doctor tell me that they found spots on my daddy's liver and a mass in his pancreas that was cancerous- but the rest of me was 7 years old, pulling on Daddy's arm to climb onto the back of my horse. Part of me was holding his hand, trying to be strong...and the rest of me was crumbling.

The moment the words came out of the stranger's doctor's mouth- everything changed. Our entire world changed. I wanted to tell stories- and ask to hear everything he's ever told me over again. I wanted to make new memories without thinking this might be the last time we get to do this. I wanted to study my daddy's face and memorize every tiny wrinkle- and remember where it came from...this one from the sun on his face when he used to plow fields when he was a farmer, long before I was even thought of- this one from the sunburn he got when we stayed in the ocean all day, laughing and swimming together...the color of his red beard...and how it never matched the hair on his head- the way his hands always looked when I was little- stained with grease from the tractor or oil from the dump truck.

My body went numb. I couldn't show my heartbreak. I had to show strength. I had to show that I had faith that he was going to be okay. I tried to shut out the doctors words but they echoed over and over again as memories flashed through my mind like a slideshow of happier times.

Immediately I wanted to know why. I wanted to know why God chose us- why our family. I wanted to know why there isn't a cure- with all the technology and knowledge in the world. Our government can hack into a terrorist's locked iPhone but can't find even a hint of a cure for cancer. I was Sally Field in Steel Magnolias, yelling in the graveyard as she buried her daughter. My numbness was replaced with anger. I wouldn't accept this diagnosis. It has to be a nightmare. I just want to wake up, I thought over and over. I got angry when people asked me how I was doing or how I was handling the diagnosis in the first few hours and days of finding out. How am I?! How ridiculous- my health is fine, my heart is broken and a huge part of me wants to rip your face off. No, I'm not fine.

Pray about it...God will get you through this.

The first few days of trying to process that my daddy has cancer- hearing that God would help me made me angry too. When I get upset with someone, I have to take some time to myself before I can talk it out. God's plan had really upset me. I didn't understand, and still don't, why he chose this plan for our family. I couldn't pray. I tried to talk to him but I couldn't find the words. We just simply weren't on speaking terms. I knew He was there- I knew He probably understood my silence- but I wasn't ready to talk.

They transferred my daddy to a larger hospital in Virginia due to a blood clot in his heart. {Because cancer wasn't enough to worry about.} Sometime in the first few days of him settling in at the new hospital, mom and I both realized that we were mourning something that hadn't happened yet. The anger began to fade a little- and we were able to focus on the moments we were in with Daddy.

So...what's next? God and I are talking again...and I'm hoping his plan for my daddy has an extended edition. For now, we are thankful for each day we are given. We are praying for the doctors caring for my dad, that they may be blessed with the knowledge they need to treat him. We are praying for ourselves, that we have the strength to be helpful through this process- and to not get too ahead of ourselves and be able to focus on the day we are in and not so much on the future. We are praying that we are able to keep our faith strong- it is so easy to lose faith when faced with tough journeys, such as this one.

Thank you to those of you who have held me as I cried, listened to me as I was angry, and prayed for our family. Words can't describe our gratefulness.

Say 'I love you'

We live in a small, tight-knit community and I've said before, when one of us goes through something, we all do.

Recently, two special people were battling cancer. They were both diagnosed around the same time- and both ended their battle this week, but in two very different ways. One rang the bell, ending her last radiation treatment...and one went home to be with the Lord.

Our horse community lost a very special cowgirl last week, as well. With social media, news travels fast and kind words and photos get posted almost instantly for the world to see. Upon reading the many testimonies about how much this cowgirl meant to so many people, I wondered...did she realize she was this loved? I hope so. She was the kind of person who told you when she loved you- partly, I believe, because she knew tragedy all too well. She lost two children in a tragic accident 11 years ago. She knew that life was fragile. 

When tragic events strike close to home, it reminds us to tell each other how we feel. We say I love you. We make time for each other. We put other's needs in front of our own...but unfortunately, as quickly as we are reminded, life gets in the way and we forget.

I may tap-dance on the borderline of over-using I love you because it is my personal belief that you can't overuse I love you if you mean it every time you say it. Life is too short to not say it when you feel it. Life is too short to not make time for our loved ones. Life is too short to not stop and have that conversation in the grocery store with someone you don't see that often- because who is to say that it may not be the last time you have a conversation with that person?

Say I love you. Thank your friends for being good to you. Remind your loved ones that you're grateful they were put in your life. Life is a fragile gift that we all-to-often take for granted.

We Got Your Back, Shack!

I remember hearing the words for the first time and not knowing whether to scream or cry.

Ginger has Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

In that moment, that first few seconds of hearing the news- I knew if I couldn't take it away from her...heal her, fix her...then I had to do something to help- something to take her mind off of the scary and onto the happy.

I messaged my cowgirl sister and Dignified Cowgirls partner immediately.

"OMG Our Ginger?! Yes, let's make shirts, do a ride, whatever we can," Danielle replied.

Within two weeks, our shirt design was complete and we had the ball rolling for a fun show or trail ride, or both. It wasn't a question of how we were going to do it- it wasn't a question at all, we were doing it.

That's the thing about cowgirls. There is nothing we can't do. We can manhandle 1200lb animals, move 500lb round bales, mend fences and haul trailers. We can fight with the best of them. When told we can't, we will prove we can. We don't ask for help often- but always know when it needs to be given. 

As the weeks progressed, we found out how incredible our little island really is as we planned the We Got Your Back, Shack! fun show. There was no "We can't donate this time..." it was always "Whatever you need...just tell us what you need and we will get it for you. This family is too special to not be 100% behind them through this."

We had everything from silent auction items to cash donations. Sponsors were coming out of the woodwork to help us- but it had nothing to do with us and everything to do with the Shackelfords. When I think of the kind of family God would look down and say "They get it...they're doing my work everyday, they look out for others, they're kind and genuine..." I think of the Shackelfords. {My husband and I say all the time that there are two people in this world that you can talk to and feel like you just spoke to Jesus himself- Omie Tillet and Britton Shackelford.}

Friday afternoon we got the keys to the indoor arena and began setting up. In the quiet dark arena, moments flashed through my mind. 

 -The first time I met Ginger- Christmas morning, when she got her first horse. 

 -Bareback horse rides around Wanchese with her, laughing and telling stories about her future career as a professional barrel racer. 

 -Doing her senior pictures- and making her smile her smile while she controlled her horses who weren't so sure about the waves in the sound. 

 -Hearing her stories from the NBHA Youth World trips...because she took a young cowgirl's dream and made it a reality. 

"Tomorrow is going to be a wonderful day. I want Ginger to have so much fun that she looks back on the day & forgets that she had Hodgkin's Lymphoma..."

The morning of the show began early. Donned in our pink Dignified Cowgirls hoodies and our sparkley zebra boots- Danielle and I were like kids on Christmas morning! As the trailers started rolling in and registrations began getting filled out- one thing was for certain...our dreams of it being a great day were going to come true. Cowboys and cowgirls were in attendance from all over North Carolina and Virginia. My heart was already overwhelmed- then in walked our cowgirl...smiling from ear to ear.

"Booey!!"

If you've ever seen a genuine Ginger smile, you know it is contagious. It is the kind of smile you see with your eyes and feel instantly in your heart. It's impossible to be in a bad mood around that kind of smile. That smile is what we worked for- that made all the work we put into the show worth it. 

Throughout the day we laughed and smiled so much my face was sore. We had some tearful {squeaky} moments- but they weren't tears of sadness...they were proud tears. They were WE will beat this tears- because we were all in agreeance that our cowgirl isn't fighting this battle alone.

We have all been thanked over and over for putting together this show. The best thank you came to us from Ginger's family...they thanked us for everything- but mostly for restoring Ginger's smile and glow. I want to thank our community, our sponsors, every single person who attended on Saturday- with your help...our community raised over to $5000 for Ginger!! And in MORE good news- Ginger had her last chemo treatment yesterday!! We are so proud of you, Booey...round that barrel, sit back & bring it on home, baby!!

A Horse of a Different Color

I received the following anonymous letter in the mail earlier today:

To a fellow horse lover: 

I am on your road alot and have noticed your two beautiful horses for quite awhile. 

Now I am saddened by the condition I see them in due to the rain of the last few months. Your white horse is hardly white any more. It is so unhealthy for them to stay in such conditions. It does create problems for their feet and their general state of mind.

A fellow horse lover

Since said horse lover did not leave a return address, phone number or sign the letter that they felt the need to pay for postage on, I was unable to send them my response. So, here's hoping someone will pass along this little bit of information to them.

Dearest "Fellow Horse Lover":

While I see you are a lover of horses, and I appreciate that, I really do, it appears you have loved them from afar and never owned one of your own. I say that because, had you owned your own or possibly had any common sense at all, you would know that horses roll for a few reasons. Allow me to enlighten you:

1. For pleasure. Now, I know...your eyeballs just fell right out of your head. How dare these majestically animals find pleasure in rolling in the *gasp* mud. It's true. They enjoy it.
2. For self-maintenance or grooming. Since you have loved from afar, you may not be familiar that horses have hooves not hands, therefore, grooming themselves tends to be difficult. Hence the rolling, particularly in pre-spring months when their many layers of insulation (ie: fur) begins to shed. {Sidenote: if you see my two horses 'biting' each other. Don't call equine social services. Neither is in an abusive relationship. They're simply scratching each other because they are itchy.)
3. To rest. You know when you've stood on your feet all day? All 150+lbs of you? Well my horses are roughly 1200lbs each. While they stand 90% of the time, they do tend to give all four hooves a break and sprawl out on the ground from time to time just to rest their legs. {I know, I should replace the front part of our pen with a Serta Beautyrest. Believe me, if I could...totally would.}
4. To relieve pain or discomfort. Laying down/rolling is a tell-tale sign if a horse is colicing (equine for super-sick). This is one of the few times you will see a cowgirl cry. I can't even be light-hearted here because colic is no laughing matter. I take it beyond serious when one of my horses lays down for a longer-than-normal-for-him amount of time. 

So, now that we are on the same page with why horses roll, allow me to explain why said horses remain dirty after they roll in the winter time.

While I brush my horses daily, the luster and shininess does not reappear in their coats until 1) they lose their winter fuzz, or 2) they get bathed. Since the temperatures in our area have not been consistently above 50-60 degrees in several months, it would literally be cruel to bathe them. Horses, as I mentioned, have several layers of fur, which, as you can imagine, does not dry quickly. When horses are wet, they roll to aid in the drying process. {Do you see the vicious cycle here?}

This leads me to my next point. 

A few weeks ago, our Pastor spoke about a story of a man, his boy and their donkey. The man and his son were leading the donkey into town to go to the market. They passed some townspeople and they laughed and pointed, calling them fools for not riding the donkey.

The man put his son on the donkey and carried on. Then they passed a few more people.

"Look at that lazy boy, making his father walk by the donkey," they said.

So the man got on the donkey, with his son. A few moments later, they passed more townsfolk.

"That poor donkey, you should be ashamed overloading him with the weight of two people!" they said.

So the man and the boy dismounted and decided it best to carry the donkey into town.

My point? Someone will always have a comment, a way they would do it better, a solution to a problem you didn't even know you had. It's up to you how you take it.

I'll admit, when I read your anonymous letter, my blood pressure was for sure at stroke level. I was so angry that someone dare think I would mistreat my animals, and then be so spineless to not own their statement. {I have a metal spine...and it is oh.so.fitting.} While the ignorance on the subject you spoke on is your problem, my reaction is all on me. So, I'm going to choose to hug my dirty babies and have a fantastic evening. My wish for you, the next time you pass my majestically-dirty horses, is that you choose to look in the direction of the boat yard and keep on keeping on. 

Yours Truly,

A Legal Ass...& A Dignified Cowgirl ;-)

(AKA: Eden Hope Saunders)

Attack Goat

Several weeks ago, my cousin asked if I would watch after her horses while she was out of town. No problem.

"The goat eats with one of the horses and the water is by the chickens," she instructed.

*squeal* Chickens! I thought.

I instantly started plotting on how to become besties with my future feathered-friends. I have wanted chickens for a good 3 years- and Santa has totally failed on adding them to my menagerie of animals. 

Day 1. Horses totally ignored me. Chickens hid. Goat was sweet and lovable.

I emailed my cousin that evening asking the goat's name. I felt insensitive just calling him goat. 

"LOL...his name is Christmas," she replied.

I wondered why she LOL'd...maybe it was because I had just told her he used my butt as a scratching post.

Day 3. Fed horses after work. Chickens hid. Goat used me as a scratching post. It was warm and I decided against blanketing the horses until later in the evening.

Huge fail. Horse 1, agreed to blanketing. Horse 2, gave me a middle hoof and took off. I attempted to follow, but somewhere in between hour 1 and 2, I lost a boot in the mud and had a minor tourette's meltdown. {Unless it's a spa treatment, I do not want mud in between my toes.} Christmas, lovingly nicknamed The Asshole decided we were playing a fun little game and his part in the fun little game? Butting me directly in the stomach anytime I got near Horse 2. #notfunnychristmas

Day 5. Finally blanketed Horse 2. #hugevictory Threw feed at The Asshole so he would leave me alone so I could look for the chickens which were no where to be found. 

Day 7-10. CHICKENS!! I squealed as I greeted them and they promptly darted away from me like I was wearing a KFC shirt. #dangit I continued to ignore the goat as much as possible. Horse 1 now recognizes my car and greets me with nickers and sweetness.

Day 11. Horses are in the barn waiting for food. The Asshole, I presume, is with them. Chickens are in the pen clucking around and I.am.thrilled. They didn't run. Today is the day, my little friends!!

I went in the feed room and got the horses fed and took a handful of feed out to attempt to feed one of the chicken's that had followed me to the door. I knelt down in my work clothes and hot pink muck boots {fashion statement, I know} and the chicken began to eat out of my hand. I was hoping that Little Miss was watching from the car because I was beyond excited to have FINALLY made friends with one of five chickens. Chicken ate patiently, turning her head from side to side, as I grinned from ear to ear. 

That's when it happened.

The Asshole came out of nowhere and butted me in the neck, knocking me completely off my feet. I somehow managed to still hold onto the little bit of feed that was in my hand as I laid sprawled out in the mud. {Chicken appreciated this gesture, as she continued to eat out of my hand as the goat butted the Christ right out of my Mas.}

Now, just take a moment and try to picture this. Hot pink boots, legs and arms flailing. Obscenities flying. Goat butting me. Chicken? Calmly still eating out of my hand. 

I get up and wipe the mud and blood off my face {because when The Asshole hit my nose it started bleeding like a faucet} to the best of my ability. I get back in the car and what does Little Miss say?

"How were the horses? Did you see Christmas?!" Little Miss asked.

"We do not speak of the goat."

"Mama, you kinda smell," she replied.

Thanks, honey. I appreciate your concern.