Where are we going?

Would we be different as a world if we were taught the truth about how precious life is? Sometimes I look at the world, and I just have to wonder how we ended up where we are. A world where abortion is allowed, and fought for as a "right". A world where the authorities turn a blind eye to human trafficking, and people do "sex tourism", raping their way across continents. A world where people walk into schools and movie theatres with guns, shooting everyone who stands in their line of sight. A world that just seems so messed up.
After reading the Hunger games, I stopped for a moment, and thought, "Seriously? How long would it honestly take our world to get to a point like that, a point where we revel in bloodthirsty games such as that? But no, many would argue that we are too advanced for that. Look at Rome though. They were an advanced civilization, and they had the gladiator games. And really, all that is necessary for this to come true is a complete disregard of human life. 
And we are well on our way to that disregard. We kill off "unwanted", "inconvenient" babies instead of giving them up for adoption. People are fighting to legalize euthanasia for elderly people. And couples are able, and even encouraged to "terminate" their pregnancies (really just a fancy word for having an abortion) if tests show that the baby has some sort of a handicap. 
We place worth on people as though we are pricing furniture. This person is too old, this person will have no quality of life, and on and on. But really, it is only a way to justify killing them. Of course, killing is given different names. "Termination", "Euthanasia", "Choice" "Mercy killing:. And we gives those being killed different names. ""Fetus", "Terminal patient", "Vegetable". And how does this differ so much from the Hunger Games? Instead of calling them murders, they called them games. Instead of victims, or children, they called them Tributes, acting as though it is an honour to kill and be killed for their district, and for the whole world. 
And ultimately, why is this allowed? It is allowed because certain people decide that life doesn't matter, and they brainwash the world into thinking that what they are doing is simply the way it is supposed to be. The worst part of it? The thing that makes this all possible? No one stands up for what they know is right until it is too late. They accept it; giving in to what has been decided for them. And eventually, many believe that what is happening really is ok. 
Are we accepting what happens in our world without question? Those who don't care about life, who want to get rid of "inconveniences", are the outspoken ones, they are making a stand, and they are getting their agenda passed while we sit and hope that abortion will end, and the world will change for the better. But something needs to be done. We have to fight back. We have to make our stand. A battle is not won by an army that sits in their camp pretending that the enemy doesn't exist. An army wins by fighting. 
First, we have to pray. Nothing will be changed if we do not prepare for battle. And the only way to prepare for a battle such as this is through prayer. And we need to stand up for what we know is right. We need to give voice to those who have no voices. 
Proverbs 24:11 Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. 

Grey Skye in my Broken Heart

It has been 5 months today since my horse Skye died, and this is something I wrote about a week after he died. It was slow going. I would write a couple of sentences, then have to stop or I would end up crying. We'll see how typing it out now goes. I still have days that I cannot believe he is gone. I get up and I want to take Skye out for a ride, and then I realize that I'm not going to see him again. And I miss him. Everything was just so sudden.
Anyway, here's the blog I wrote.
February 6-7, I experienced what was likely the hardest 27 hours I have experienced thus far.
It seemed to start innocently enough. I returned home from work, and prepared to go outside and do chores. As I glanced out the door, with my hand already on the door knob, I was greeted by a sight that every horse owner dreads. My dear horse Skye was on his backs, with his legs tucked up to his chest.
I ran out the door, absolutely terrified, screaming his name, and praying that he was not dead. Little did I know that in the next 27 hours, I would realize that it might have been better had he already been gone.
Skye was one of the most beautiful horses I have ever seen; both physically, and in his personality. He used to be a therapy horse, but failed at that, because he would lay down with a rider on his back. And when he was led, he would move as slowly as he possibly could. He was certainly not the most well-behaved horse I've ever met (and I learned shortly after I got him that he was full of energy while being ridden, and spooked quite violently when the dogs ran through dry leaves behind him), but that didn't matter at all. He'd just walk up and put his head in my arms, and I would melt. Skye was also the first horse I met who loved to have his belly scratched. He would be so happy and relaxed with someone scratching his belly that he'd almost fall asleep.
Anyway, I got Skye on his feet, and called the vet, but he wasn't too interested in standing while we waited. So I got a halter on him, and we walked for a while. It took about 1/2 an hour for the vet to arrive, and we walked that whole time. I tried to let him stop once in a while, but every time I did, he would drop to the ground and try to roll. My heart broke a little every time he did this. I knew he was in pain, and there was nothing that I could do for him.
I have seen colic in a number of horses, and often, it has been mild. We give the horse some painkillers, and maybe pour some mineral oil, or warm water with epsom salts into them, and everything clears up quickly. But the last horse I saw colic, a surrogate mare in VT, was the first horse I had seen die from colic. With that memory in mind, I was far more nervous than I usually am about colic. Plus, I love Skye like crazy, and the thought of losing him terrified me.
When Dr Bob came, he tried to check Skye's vitals, but Skye was in too much pain, and needed medicine first. After being given "happy juice", Skye calmed a bit. That was when Dr Bob noticed something odd about him. When a horse is in as much pain as Skye was, their heartbeat elevates quickly. But Skye's hadn't. In fact, his heart often went up to 5 seconds without a beat. Typical is 35-40 bpm. Dr Bob told me that, even if Skye pulled through the colic, he wouldn't be surprised if I walked out one day and found him dead because his heart had skipped a beat and forgot to start again. Not exactly the comforting words I wanted to hear...
Dr Bob put a tube in Skye and put some warm water and epsom salts into him, hoping that it would clear up the blockage. He told me to let Skye lay down, but try not to let him roll.
And for the rest of the morning, that is what I did. I did chores and had breakfast, stopping every once in a while to run out and get Skye to his feet so he wouldn't roll. At one point, he got cast (flipped onto his back up against something so he couldn't roll himself back over), but luckily it was against something I could move away from him. It is hard (and dangerous) to right a cast horse, and would have been next to impossible with a horse Skye's size without help.
I don't think I was in the house for more than 10 minutes at a time all morning. But late morning/early afternoon (my timing on this whole thing is a little mixed up), Skye started to get pretty frantic again. I called the vet once more, and that was when I started feeling like I might have to have him put down. After all of the painkillers he had been given, he should not have been feeling any pain.
When the vet got there this time, Skye was even worse. He started to thrash around when the painkillers were given to him, and slammed into Dr Bob's truck, messing up the mirror and denting the side of the truck, then threw himself onto my car, busting the spoiler off. Dr Bob got the shot to put Skye down. I called my aunt, needing someone with me (my folks were in Puerto Rico, and were supposed to get home the next day). But by the time Neita arrived, the painkillers were kicking in. Dr Bob wasn't really thrilled with my choice to wait and not put Skye down, but I just could not take away the chance.
Skye was pretty drugged by that time. He would meander around the yard, running into things, unless I stood in front of him, cradling his head against my chest. So we stood like that for a long time. Until he wanted to lay down for a while.
I let Skye rest, and the remainder of the evening, and on into the night, was super rough on me. Skye would seem good for a while; showing interest in food and water, seeming to be comfortable, and then he would seem like he was in great pain, making me wonder if I should call the vet out in the middle of the night.
That night, I alternated between trying to get some sleep (I knew I would need it if it came down to making the decision to put him down), and spending time with him. I made up stories to tell him, and I sang to him, and I prayed. A lot. I begged God to spare Skye's life. Then I begged him to take him quickly, to end his pain. I told God that I would rather lose Skye than have him be in pain.
I was to the point that I couldn't even cry. I felt bad about this. Of all the things to feel bad about...I felt like I should show more emotion knowing that I might be losing my horse. But I had no more tears to cry. And my grief was too deep for tears. This is something I have been feeling a lot lately. I find that if I am sad and I don't cry, it's more likely because I am far too sad to cry rather than not being very sad at all. So I just sat with him.
The next morning felt like the cruelest trick ever. When I woke, Skye was up, walking around the yard, seeming much better than he had been. I thought we were out of danger. Until about 10:30. I looked out the window and saw him stumbling around like he had been before the afternoon vet visit. My heart dropped. I went out to see what was up, but I pretty well knew what the outcome would be.
I checked Skye's heart, not really expecting anything, and found that it was elevated to 100 bpm. This was the final blow. I knew that the way his heart was, he would have to be in immense pain to react in this way. I called Neita to ask her to come out, and called and texted some friends to ask for prayer. And then I called the vet. While this was all going on, Skye wandered down the lane, seeming to be rather distracted; not really paying attention to me. When I was talking to the vet, Skye laid down by the driveway.
I got off the phone and sat near Skye, being pretty careful about how close I got. I have seen horses in pain that thrash and kick out farther than you would ever think possible. And they have no idea what they are doing. But then he stretched his head out toward me, trying to reach me. So I moved closer, holding his head, and he relaxed as soon as I touched him. There were some muscle tremors, then he took a breath. And that was it. He was gone.
Neita pulled into the driveway just as Skye drew his last breath, and Dr Bob was about 5 minutes later. I feel like even in Skye's death, God was there for me. I had to make the choice to have Skye put down, but I didn't actually have to watch him be put down. It's not just a gentle "falling asleep" when a horse is put down, and I did not want to watch that happen to him. And God was merciful and didn't make me go through that.
At the end of those 27 hours, I was tired from staying up half the night with Skye. I had blisters on my feet from just slipping into rubber boots without socks so that I could run outside as fast as I could to keep him from rolling, and then walking around for hours with him. I had a hair burn on my chin from one of the times he was thrashing in pain and caught me in the face with his head. And I was just achy all over from trying to keep him from rolling, and keep him comfortable. But that was nothing compared to how emotionally exhausted I was. I posted on facebook later that evening that I felt like I had really aged a lot in the last day. And my aunt told me that it wasn't aging so much as it was growing up. Which was probably true. Sometimes you have to go through something hard in order to grow in the ways you need to grow. I'd just as soon avoid the pain, but if that happened, I would avoid the growth as well.
I said that during those couple of days, my mind was trying to tell me what to do, but my heart kept saying, "Stand back, I've got this." And I don't regret listening to my heart. Yeah, maybe I should have had Skye put down earlier. But that is one of those things that you have to know when it is right. And when I knew, I called. Sometimes listening to your heart might not seem like the wisest thing (had I simply listened to my mind, my heart would not have been broken so badly), but if you stop listening to it altogether, you run the risk of forgetting how to listen to it. And I would much rather have a broken heart than a dead one. I would rather love and have pain than not love at all.
I miss my Skyeboy. I'll not find another horse like him. But I feel that I was blessed to have him for the short time I had him.