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122 pages

English

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Where do we turn when work is draining, a friend lets us down, or we can't take any more news stories or political controversies? We turn to animals. We watch and share heartwarming videos of animals and the people who love them. For over a decade, Callie Smith Grant has been helping people celebrate our animal friends with her delightful collections of stories, and she's back with more true stories for horse lovers.With contributions from both well-known and up-and-coming writers, this heartwarming collection is the perfect way for animal lovers to decompress and remember God's good gift to us in the majestic, calming, inspiring, and even silly horses he created. Horse owners, horse lovers, and horse dreamers will adore these uplifting true stories.

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	17 septembre 2019
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781493419425
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0403€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Half Title Page
Other Books by Callie Smith Grant
The Cat on My Lap
The Dog at My Feet
The Cat in the Window
The Dog Next Door
The Horse of My Heart
Second-Chance Dogs
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2019 by Baker Publishing Group
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1942-5
Dedication
To the memory of Jeanette Marie Thomason
Encourager, lover of words, rescuer of horses from wildfires . . .
and gone too soon.
Rest in peace, my friend.
Contents
Cover 1
Half Title Page 2
Other Books by Callie Smith Grant 3
Title Page 4
Copyright Page 5
Dedication 6
Introduction 11
Callie Smith Grant
When Stubborn Meets Stubborn 15
Lauraine Snelling
The Power of Perception 21
Sarah Barnum
The Year of the Dream Horse 26
Lisa Begin-Kruysman
Redeeming Trust 32
Cynthia Beach
Why We Had Ponies 39
Lonnie Hull DuPont
The Twinkle 44
Susy Flory
A Pinto for Pennies 50
Jenny Lynn Keller
Flash and Henry 55
Rachel Anne Ridge
Black Giant 65
Karen Lynn Nolan
Not According to Plans 70
Nicole M. Miller
A Horse Called Lady 76
Sandy Cathcart
Shiloh in the Mist 81
Connie Webster
My Horse Coworkers 85
DJ Perry
A Forever Friend 91
Catherine Ulrich Brakefield
Gray-Haired 97
Sarah Barnum
Wild Thing 101
Sarah Parshall Perry
Callie Had a Secret 110
Yvonne Haislip
Conquering Fear 114
Loretta Eidson
Fooling the Magician 122
Tracy Joy Jones
Spirit of My Seventies 130
Chris Kent
Let Go of the Reins 136
Shannon Moore Redmon
Michigana Perry Goes to Wyoming 140
DJ Perry
Showing It Alone 145
Susan Friedland-Smith
The Meaning of an Heirloom 154
Tisha Martin
Ransom 160
Connie Webster
Own a Horse? Maybe 164
Marian Rizzo
The Old Cowboy and a Horse Called Magic 170
Tim Fall
Riding Royalty 174
Delores Topliff
Babycakes 179
Diane K. Weatherwax
One Saturday Morning 183
Lonnie Hull DuPont
Coming Back to Myself 188
Nicole M. Miller
A Real Enough Horse 192
Karen Foster
Notes 197
About the Contributors 199
About the Editor 207
Acknowledgments 209
Back Ads 211
Back Cover 222
Introduction
Callie Smith Grant

M any years ago my husband made a promise to take me on a trip to the California desert. The desert had always extended a strange pull on me, but although we lived in California for many years, I had not seen either the Mojave Desert or Death Valley. So the day finally came when we took time off work, packed our car with cases of water, and drove to the Mojave Desert when the wildflowers were in bloom. Then we drove into Death Valley, a place I found as strange as another planet and more beautiful than I could even imagine.
Death Valley held another surprise for me—a herd of wild horses. We watched them gallop through the sand near Death Valley Junction and huddle up to somebody’s backyard fence. I loved their sturdy bodies, their wild yet still precise way of moving together as a herd, their sweet approach at the fence. I recall that some of their eyelashes were caked in sand. I’ve always wanted to go back and find the wild herd again—and maybe someday I will. For now, that herd at times shows up in my sleep, running over a sandy expanse in my dreams.
Of course, there’s another kind of dream of horses, one that’s grounded in waking reality. It’s the dream of having a horse of one’s own. A lot of people have this dream, and some are blessed to have it fulfilled. This book is full of such people and their dreams and their horses. Some of these dreams came true in childhood, some during teenage years, some in middle age, and some, as one writer put it, “well north of sixty years old.” A couple of the horse dreams never came true in the flesh, but that love of horses played a strong and positive part in their lives anyway.
In these stories, you’ll meet a gorgeous variety of horses, ponies, and even two adorable donkeys. They are old and young, large and lean, and they desire to belong, whether their herd is human or animal. These horses are owned, borrowed, worked for, admired from afar, or simply remembered. They may show up at the right time—and sometimes they show up at the wrong time (or did they?). In these stories, horses empower children. They help the elderly adjust to changes. They join a family and help them get through a tough time. Sometimes they come alongside a person to help him or her make a living. They assist the anxious or depressed and in the process affirm to them that a loving Creator is present. Sometimes they make humans laugh. Often they are simply someone’s best friend.
There are horse lovers within these pages who understand a horse’s moves and intentions and desires. There are others who view the unique thinking of this creature as hard to understand. But when that animal intelligence meets up with our human intelligence, wonderful things can happen. And stories are born.
Obviously the stories in this book have the love for horses in common. But they often also have hope in common. I was surprised to see how many contributors wrote specifically about their dream of having a horse—sing that very phrase—and because of that, this collection pretty much titled itself. Contributors wrote from their hearts, their memories, their longings, their joys, and that common theme—“the horse of my dreams”—floated to the top. It was as if some of these horse lovers connected with each other even before the conception of this book. To me, a person with a lucid dream world, it made perfect sense.
Shakespeare helps us understand why horses invade our dreams and our lives: “He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.” 1
I know you’ll enjoy meeting these beautiful creatures and their humans in these true stories of The Horse of My Dreams . And may you also enjoy the horse of your dreams in any way you can.
When Stubborn Meets Stubborn
Lauraine Snelling

A pony!” I stared at the Shetland pony backing out of a trailer right in our yard. “For me?”
When I got excited, I would rub my clenched hands together and scrunch my face in a grin. I added jigging in place that night.
The man handed my dad the lead tied to the pony’s halter. “Her name is Polly, and she’s pretty old, but she’ll be a good first pony for your little girl.” He smiled at me standing by my mother. “You got a bridle or saddle?”
Daddy shook his head.
The man reached in the trailer and unhooked a bridle. “I’ll pick this up sometime when I’m nearby. Oh, and Polly likes sugar cubes. I don’t give her many, not good for her teeth, but she loves them.”
“Thank you.” Daddy and the man shook hands, then the man got in his truck and drove off. But I didn’t watch that. All I could see was a pony who looked grizzled gray in the fading light. Dusk was creeping across the land, the cows were milked and chores done. A good time for a pony to arrive.
But when wasn’t a good time for a pony?
I stood in front of her and just stared. My pony was a dream of a lifetime. Even at five, I had wanted a pony for what felt like forever. Polly nibbled at my fingers when I reached out to stroke her face, making me giggle.
Mom returned from the house and handed me a couple of sugar cubes. My dad liked to dunk a sugar cube in his coffee, just like his pa did.
“Give it to her on the flat of your hand,” Daddy said. “She might be old, but if she mistakes your fingers for a sugar cube . . .”
I nodded and did as told, giggling when her whiskers tickled my palm. “She likes it, all right.” I let her finish and held out the other.
“I’ll bridle her up and then you can ride.”
“Really?”
He looped the rope around Polly’s neck and unbuckled the halter. “She might try to take off on you, so don’t give her a chance.” Polly took the bit without an argument, and he buckled the bridle in place. “Watch how to do this so you can do it yourself next time.”
I nodded, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Polly swished her tail and stamped one front foot.
“Now, here you go. Hang on to the reins.” Like most farm kids, I had ridden on our team of workhorses, but I’d never ridden my own pony. Daddy picked me up and set me on her back, reins in hand. He slapped Polly on the rump, and she took off, and I did too, only in the opposite direction, screaming all the while.
I don’t know how my dad caught her. I would always need a can of oats to bribe her with, but he caught her, set me up on her back again, and said, “Now hang on.” That was the best advice my father ever gave me. Hang on. And so began my years with Polly.
The dream had started some time before. When you are little, ten minutes can seem like forever. “Mommy, when we get to the farm, can I have a pony?” I had asked her.
“We shall see.”
I studied her face. That was one of those puzzling lines along with “maybe.” I have no idea when I started wanting a pony, but ponies and town living didn’t mix. But now we were in Minnesota, where my daddy had grown up before going into the navy. The war was over, and he was hoping to buy a dairy farm. A farm meant land and pasture for a pony. And lots of cows, which suited me fine, animal lover that I already was. We had a dog—a rat terrier—but a farm meant cows and horses and chickens, maybe pigs also. Surely we would have cats in the barn and in the house too.
The farm we moved to had a big white barn with stanchions for the cows on both