Story and Poem for Horse Lovers.

[Teresa]

Only for Love

The young couple had made their usual hurried, pre-Christmas visit to the little farm where dwelt the elderly parents with their small herd of horses. The farm had been named Lone Pine Farm because of the huge pine which topped the hill behind the farm, and through the years had become a talisman to the old man and his wife, and a landmark in the countryside. The old folks no longer showed their horses, for the years had taken their toll, but they sold a few foals each year, and the horses were their reason for joy in the morning and contentment at day's end.

Crossly, as they prepared to leave, the young couple confronted the old folks. "Why do you not at least dispose of "The Old One". She is no longer of use to you. It's been years since you've had foals from her. You should cut corners and save where you can. Why do you keep her anyway?"

The old man looked down as his worn boot scuffed at the barn floor and his arm stole defensively about the Old One's neck as he drew her to him and rubbed her gently behind the ears. He replied softly, "We keep her because of love. Only because of love."

Baffled and irritated, the young folks wished the old man and his wife a Merry Christmas and headed back toward the city as darkness stole through the valley.

So it was, that because of the leave-taking, no one noticed the insulation smoldering on the frayed wires in the old barn. None saw the first spark fall. None but the "Old One".

In a matter of minutes, the whole barn was ablaze and the hungry flames were licking at the loft full of hay. With a cry of horror and despair, the old man shouted to his wife to call for help as he raced to the barn to save their beloved horses. But the flames were roaring now, and the blazing heat drove him back. He sank sobbing to the ground, helpless before the fire's fury.

By the time the fire department arrived, only smoking, glowing ruins were left, and the old man and his wife. They thanked those who had come to their aid, and the old man turned to his wife, resting her white head upon his shoulders as he clumsily dried her tears with a frayed red bandana. Brokenly he whispered, "We have lost much, but God has spared our home on this eve of Christmas. Let us, therefore, climb the hill to the old pine where we have sought comfort in times of despair. We will look down upon our home and give thanks to God that it has been spared."

And so, he took her by the hand and helped her up the snowy hill as he brushed aside his own tears with the back of his hand. As they stepped over the little knoll at the crest of the hill, they looked up and gasped in amazement at the incredible beauty before them. Seemingly, every glorious, brilliant star in the heavens was caught up in the glittering, snow-frosted branches of their beloved pine, and it was aglow with heavenly candles. And poised on its top most bough, a crystal crescent moon glistened like spun glass. Never had a mere mortal created a Christmas tree such as this.
Suddenly, the old man gave a cry of wonder and incredible joy as he pulled his wife forward. There, beneath the tree, was their Christmas gift. Bedded down about the "Old One" close to the trunk of the tree, was the entire herd, safe. At the first hint of smoke, she had pushed the door ajar with her muzzle and had led the horses through it. Slowly and with great dignity, never looking back, she had led them up the hill, stepping daintily through the snow. The foals were frightened and dashed about. The skittish yearlings looked back at the crackling, hungry flames, and tucked their tails under them as they licked their lips and hopped like rabbits. The mares pressed uneasily against the "Old One" as she moved calmly up the hill and to safety beneath the pine. And now, she lay among them and gazed at the faces of those she loved. Her body was brittle with years, but the golden eyes were filled with devotion as she offered her gift---

Because of love. Only Because of love.




When your day seems out of balance-
And so many things go wrong.
When people fight around you
And the day drags on so long.

When parents act like children
In-laws make you think "Divorce."
Go out into your pasture...
Wrap your arms around your horse.

His gentle breath enfolds you,
And he watches with those eyes.
He may not have a PhD
But he is oh so wise!

His head rests on your shoulder
You embrace him oh so tight.
He puts your world in balance.
And makes it seem all right.

Your tears they soon stop flowing.
The tension is now eased.
The garbage has been lifted
And you're quiet and at peace.

So when you need the balance.
From circumstances in your day
The best therapy that you can seek-
Is out there chomping hay!"

[Judy Harder]

Beautiful.!!!! Thank you dear!
AOYP

[Teresa]

When I am an old Horsewoman:

I shall wear turquoise and diamonds, and a straw hat that doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my social security on white wine and carrots,

And sit in my alley-way of my barn and listen to my horses breathe.

I will sneak out in the middle of a summer night and ride the old bay
gelding, across the moonstruck meadow if my old bones will allow.

And when people come to call, I will smile and nod as I walk past the
gardens to the barn and show instead the flowers growing inside stalls
fresh-lined with straw.

I will shovel and sweat and wear hay in my hair as if it were a jewel.

And I will be an embarrassment to all, who will not yet have found the peace
in being free to have a horse as a best friend, a friend who waits at
midnight hour with muzzle and nicker and patient eyes for the kind of woman
I will be.

When I am old.

[Wilma]

Teresa, is that story "Only For Love" true?  It is a beautiful story.

[Teresa]

I don't know.. but you're right.. It is beautiful.

[Wilma]

It could be true.  It's possible.

[Bonnie M.]

Teresa, I loved that story, also! 

[Bette]

When I am an old Horsewoman:

I shall wear turquoise and diamonds, and a straw hat that doesn't suit me.....

And I will be an embarrassment to all, who will not yet have found the peace
in being free to have a horse as a best friend, a friend who waits at
midnight hour with muzzle and nicker and patient eyes for the kind of woman
I will be. . .

Well turquoise does not suit me but I have fed a small diamond chip to my horses, my hats never suit me hence the hay frequently found in my hair and my mare answers to Gorgous! I suspect I am beginning to qualify as an old horsewoman.     
I loved both of these thanks for sharing them.
Bette

[pam]

i borrowed your poem for some friends of mine who will really love it Teresa. I'm sittin here bawlin like a baby