it happened like this

So, the way I found her was a little unusual. I wasn't looking for a horse, at all. We'd only just recently discovered that Zeek loves riding. Prior to that we couldn't even get him to come out of the Jeep at a farm yard.


Greg and I had come to the conclusion that we should start living our life and stop letting the potential for change hold us back from being us. I started taking Karate with Zeek and was thinking about getting a few chickens the following spring. I knew that Greg really wanted a French Bulldog (all his life) and with all the extra space in our home and on our property, I was thinking it wouldn't be so bad to get a third dog...
I was reluctant about this enough to have not shared it with Greg yet.


It was in my search for our Frenchie pup that I came across a horse for sale. She was placed in the wrong category on a pet finder site, and the heading read "19 year old Appaloosa Mare". The only reason I even took a second look is because that is exactly the age and breed of my first horse, Poncho, was when I had gotten him exactly 20 years ago to the month. I looked, I saw, I smiled... I moved on. 


The next morning I found myself thinking about her. SO FAR OUTSIDE OF MY WORLD I kept putting it out of my mind. And it just kept coming back. Finally, I turned myself to God with a big giant "what's up?" and the next thing I knew my eyes were locked with the horse of my dreams, and I was signing a check to the owners. 


Of course, I had talked to my husband, who worked very hard to dispell my every belief that this was in no way even possible. And we did our research. In fact, I'd moved away from the Appaloosa in the add altogether and was looking at other horses for sale. 


I called in all kinds of advice and information about what we were looking at if we were to purchase a horse. Dos and don'ts, vets, shots, floating, ferriers, tackle, boarding, time, money, commitment, etc... 


We wrote it, we talked about it, we prayed. 


I thought I went to Neenah to see the yonger partner horse of the Appaloosa in the ad. I figured if I were going to get my son a horse I needed to get one young enough for him to ride as he grew. 
But God does His thing however God needs to get His thing done, and looking back, I'm fully aware that this was the only way to get me to my girl.  


Back to the moment when we locked eyes...
This is the entry I made in my son's keepsake blog:

She believes it was fate that led her to accidentally 

list her horse for sale under French Bulldogs.

I know it was God's work that led me to look at 

French Bulldogs and find a misplaced horse ad.

When it was all said and done and the dust had settled, 

we were scheduling a trailer to move my new horse to the stables near our home,

and my life had changed in the blink of an eye.

Her name is Gwinivere. 

She's a beautiful sorrel Appaloosa with a white blaze down her face. 

She stands 15 hands and makes my heart race. 

The minute I laid eyes on her, and she laid an eye on me, 

it was settled between us; 

I belonged to her, and she belonged to me. 

And I trembled inside, having never felt this way since 

my first horse (also an Appaloosa) exactly 20 years ago.

When her owner's husband said he'd walk her so I could watch from behind, 

I involuntarily thought to myself, 

I don't care if this horse falls down in the isle and seizes... she's mine.

That's when I knew I was in trouble love.

I scrapped my pulse and strapped my logic back on for 

the remainder of my time with the two horses I was there to look at. 

But my spirit never let go of Gwinivere. 

not for a second.

And today is finally the big day. The day I get to bring her home. 

The waiting has been on a steep incline of impatience 

whose anxiety has only been relieved by butterflies and girlish daydreaming.

I've been flooded with memories and brought back to 

my beginning with horses and my love for them.

I remember riding as a little girl. 

At my Uncle Jack's farm, and on the side of the road 

when my favorite most spoiling Aunt Susie would 

pull her car over to ask strangers to let me ride their horses.

I remember moving to the country at 11 and having neighbors with horses. 

I would walk to their house after school and on hot summer days. 

I would sit at their pasture line and sing to the horses. 

I would pick grass and feed them, 

pat their warm, muscular sides whenever they got close enough. 

I was fascinated, in awe, and heart-struck.

The day my Dad told me that he and my Mom had 

bought me a real horse of my own, I thought I would burst. 

I loved that horse so much.

I rode almost everyday. 

Sometimes, I would even get up early in the mornings to ride before school. 

My horse would lay his body out in a full gallop in the acres behind my house, 

and we would become one with the sky. 

I would nap on the hay stack next to his stable. 

I would climb up and lay on his bareback while he ate grass in the open yard 

and I read a book in the sun. 

My brother, his friends, and I would ride bareback in the field and swamp 

playing portholes and dimensions with plastic swords and throwing stars. 

Having a horse was my dream come true. 

Loosing him two and half years later would be 

the end of my horse love, for two decades.

We tried to replace him. 

My parents bought me another horse, 

and later, my husband leased me a horse for months while we were dating. 

But I just never felt that kind of connection with another horse again.

Until now...