Bemused

The dictionary definition of Bemused is “Confused or bewildered”. But I am a Webster, and as such, can make new definitions if I so desire.

My new definition of a bemused expression is as follows, “An expression that says, ‘I’m sure I would be amused if I had any clue what was going on.’”. And I feel like the past couple of weeks, I have had that exact expression on my face quite a lot.

I spent two weeks teaching jewelry making to girls who mostly did not speak any English. There were a few who spoke a bit of English, but not very much. And more just small-talk type English, not the kind that I needed to communicate ideas about jewelry making.

I started out the time not talking a whole lot. I would demonstrate what I wanted them to do, but I was fairly quiet. Then I realized that perhaps if I said what I wanted, some would understand a bit, and some would pick up new words. So I started explaining what I wanted them to do as I demonstrated it.

That seemed to amuse them, and when I finished, a girl would go back to her place, and I would hear some of the words I had used being repeated, and lots of giggling as all of the girls repeated words and looked at me. I often gave a little half smile, not entirely sure what to do. I didn’t want to join in the laughter if everyone was laughing at me, but I didn’t want to just act like a jerk either. That was what I came to think of as my bemused look. I wanted to be amused, and felt like if I could just understand more, I would be amused. Even if they were laughing at me. I wound up getting used to feeling that way. I had two weeks of giving jewelry lessons. It was either get used to it and have fun, or have a total meltdown.

The girls seemed to like it when I responded to their laughter and joking, even though they knew I didn’t understand them anymore than they understood me. And I came to the point where I didn’t really care if they were laughing at me. Their laughter wasn’t mocking, or rude, it was just laughter. The laughter of girls having fun, and amusing themselves while doing their work.

So as they chattered on in Hindi or Kannada, I would answer them in English. We would do that, barely understanding a word the other was saying, but using hand gestures, and sort of playing a game of charades to make ourselves understood. Sometimes we figured out what was being said, and sometimes we finally had to laugh, because neither of us had a clue.

It got to the point where they were so comfortable with me that they would come into my room while I was getting jewelry supplies ready, and just talk away to me. Or sometimes simply hang out in comfortable silence, watching me. It didn't feel like we couldn't communicate at all, it just felt like we were hanging out comfortably.

So yeah, my bemused expression had a good workout during the trainings, but it was a really good time, and I am glad I got the experience.

Rant, Luke, Rant

I was typing an email to my folks earlier, and realized as I looked at it that there are sort of three parts to any email or letter I write to them. There’s the newsy part, where I tell what has been going on, and keep them up to date on my life (though I often accidentally leave out key details and get scolded later), random musings about life in general, issues that I am concerned with, what I need to do to improve myself, relationships, and the world around me, etc., and rants. Bet you didn’t see that third subject coming :~).

I find it totally natural to vent to my parents. It’s been the way our family has worked since I can remember. Not that there’s necessarily anything that bad in my life, but anything that I need to talk about, I know I can talk to them about it.

We used to do that when we were going home from church. Especially once the stuff started that eventually led to us leaving the church. There would be things happening at church, and when we got in the van to go home, we would vent for a while. My Dad didn’t really like it at first. He thought we were just complaining. But Mom told him that we simply needed to get things out, and then we were fine.

And that is so true. Usually, I don’t expect my folks to do anything. I don’t tell them about issues with a friend, hoping that they will go and talk to that friend and sort things out. In fact, I would be furious if they did, and they know that. I’m not going to them to get things fixed, but rather, to just have a listening ear. Or in cases lately, a reading eye. There’s something about having someone sympathetic to listen to you. Even if whatever you’re ranting about really isn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, someone who cares is good to have.

And because I have that in my life, I try to do that for others. To listen to their rants, and genuinely care about what they are talking about, even if there is nothing I can do to help other than listen. Compassion and caring. I think those are two things that are important to everyone. 

A Fond Farewell

Mid-June, Leg Up said goodbye to two of our ponies, Lily and Orion. It was not an easy choice to find new homes for these two, as they have been with Leg Up for most of its existence. But there comes a time when changes have to be made, and this was one of those times.

It was March when these plans began to be discussed. Both of the ponies were having a hard time fitting into Leg Up. We tried everything we could, but some horses are simply not cut out to be therapy horses. And it is not fair to force a horse to do something that they are not good at, and do not enjoy. They will only be miserable, just like a person who has to do something they do not like.

We were not willing though to simply give the two ponies away. Finding a good home for a horse in Ooty is not nearly so easy as finding one in the States. Horses are not treated well in many cases. Even though we could not use the two, we still had to care for them.

Lily was easy to find a home for. Our vet Ilona has a young daughter named Emma, who has been taking riding lessons on Lily, and was very good with her. When we offered Lily to her, she was over the moon. They were also willing to take Orion, though he would not be a riding pony. He would be turned out with their herd of ponies, and basically become a wild pony. It was not ideal for Orion, but it seemed to be our best choice.

Every time Emma saw me, she talked about when Lily would be her pony, and how excited she was about it. She rode Lily for almost every lesson, and could get her to do things the other children could not. It was a perfect match. And Emma is little enough that she will be able to ride Lily for years.

Orion however, concerned me. The closer it got to the time that the ponies would leave, the more concerned I became about Orion. I did not want to see him become a wild pony. It was better than him being on the streets, or belonging to some guy in Ooty who would use him for tourist rides, but we have put so much effort into him over the years. He is our miracle pony, who God kept alive through so much. We have always said that God has a plan for him, and I didn’t see how being a wild pony, roaming around Masinagudi with a wild herd for the rest of his life would be the plan. But what was there to do about it? The ponies would be leaving in less than a week, and there wasn’t anything I could think of. \

Then Mala called, two days before the ponies were to leave. Someone else called, saying they wanted both ponies. We of course could not give Lily to them, but we offered them only Orion, being very clear that he tends to be a bully, and needs consistency in his training, and has reoccurring issues because of his leg. And they still wanted him. They have horse experience, and kids, including one who was part of the dorm that took care of the ponies. He is a very confident, good rider, and will do well with Orion. It was another of those cases where God came through at the last minute, when we had no idea what we could do to change less than ideal circumstances. More proof that God cares about even the smallest thing, and works things together for good.

We have heard from both owners since the ponies went to their new homes. Lily has fallen in love with Emma’s other pony, Polo, and is happy there. She was also having back pain, and the cold and damp in Ooty seemed to exacerbate it. Her new home in Masinagudi does not get nearly so chilly as Ooty, so she should not have problems with it. Orion’s family is thrilled with him. They have been riding him, and he is doing well. His leg, which had just been reinjured when they took him, is healing up, and they are very pleased to have him.

We now have Hercules, Shadow, and Firefly. Who would have thought a couple of years ago that if we only kept one of our ponies, it would be Hercules? But he is doing very well, and, aside from his driving, is even becoming a good children’s riding pony. We are excited about what the future holds for Leg Up, and for Lily and Orion as they start the next part of their lives. 

Goodness, you're mean...

Riding lessons. Ah...I seldom took them, never wanted to give them, not really a fan. My riding lessons as a child consisted of going on trail rides with my Aunt (who I later bought my first pony from), being taught as we rode through the woods and the fields and such.

Before coming to India this time, the closest thing to giving lessons I had ever done was showing friends how to ride my horses when they came over. Then I came here, and I was told that I would be teaching riding lessons to jr school students. In a way, I didn't have any idea how much I would enjoy it at times. But I also didn't realize how difficult it would be at other times. 

Today, I had a boy named Daniel come for lessons. He was part of the horse club, and has been doing these lessons for a few weeks now. For some reason, he has suddenly convinced himself that riding is scary, and he can't do it. He has always been hesitant, but he suddenly decided he didn't want to ride. Hercules was too tall, he would knock Herc over if he tried to mount. There were so many excuses for why he couldn't ride. 

And it finally came down to, "Miss Laura, do I have to ride? I don't want to ride." It was not the request of a boy who just isn't fond of riding, it was the request of a boy who has totally freaked himself out of riding. He has always asked me what will happen if he tips the horse over, but usually it isn't a terribly serious question. Today however, he was very serious. 

I coaxed Daniel into getting on Herc, and he seemed like he would be ok. For a few minutes. As we were going down the road, something surprised Hercules. He stopped, staring nervously, and did not want to move forward. Daniel panicked, feeling that he could not control Herc. 

His eyes filled with tears, and he said in a shaky voice, "Miss Laura, I feel like I need to get down." I almost let him get off of Hercules, but I couldn't let him quit. So, feeling like a horrendously mean person, I refused to let Daniel get down. Fortunately, he is not one to just jump down on his own. I held Herc still for a little while as I talked Daniel through his fears. We continued for a short distance farther, with him looking like a kicked puppy. Gradually though, that look started to fade. By the end of our ride, he was not exactly ecstatic over the fact that he was on horseback, but he was not terrified anymore, and seemed to be enjoying himself at least a little bit (though he was still trying to act like he was not enjoying himself. 

I felt mean during this time, but I would have felt far worse had I let him give up on riding. I have no problem with someone not riding because they don't like it, but when it's obvious that the reason for not riding is because they're scared, it's not ok. We're doing lessons with these kids, not therapy, but often even a normal riding lesson is a sort of therapy. We help these kids get over their fears, grow in confidence, and so many other things. Sometimes I get to looking at the lessons as just lessons, and that's when I get annoyed with the kids, and their hesitance, and complaining. And then I remember that lessons are not what Leg Up is for. They're not why I am in India. I am here, and Leg Up exists to show God's love through these ponies, and to make a difference in the lives of those we touch, whether it is rescued girls, or handicapped children, or kids that go to Hebron. 

Humility and trust

During Avalanche camp, each team had an opportunity to hike to the waterfall, and spend the afternoon up there. It was a gorgeous place to hike. Not something you would expect to come upon right there. I spent the time with a group of girls, swimming, and clambering around on the rock walls of the waterfall.

The area in the pictures was an interesting part. It was quite steep, and you had to just grip tiny areas with your toes in an attempt to get yourself up the side. I was the last one to go, and the rocks were wet from everyone's clothes dripping on them as they climbed up. As I neared the top, there were fewer and fewer toeholds, and each was so slippery that I could scarcely get a grip on them. To fall meant crashing into rocks on the way down, and then landing in a pool that was full of quite large rocks that formed the uneven bottom. There was nothing to catch on the way down. I almost changed my mind right there about going up to the top, but realized that this was not an option. There was really no way to go back down. I would have slipped for sure had I attempted it. Jyothi, one of our girls, had climbed up before me, and really wanted me to come with. She kept insisting that I take her hand and let her help me up the rock. I refused. What if she couldn't hold me, and let go? Was I going to let go of the rock, and put my faith in a person? What if she wasn't as well balanced as I thought, and I pulled her over the side too. Basically, I guess it all came down to trust. Did I trust that Jyothi could help me, and was I ok with letting go of control, and my 'if I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna do it on my own.' attitude? I must admit, it took me far longer than it probably should have to figure out what to do in this situation. I exhausted every avenue I could to find a way to get either up or down without help. The whole while, Jyothi was standing there, reaching out to me, waiting for me to take her hand. Which I finally did. She helped me up to the top of the rock, and we walked on. Jyothi seemed to think nothing more of it, but I did. What is it that keeps me from trusting? What keeps me so insistent on the fact that I can do it by myself, and I don't need anyone else? It's curious the way one's mind works. Especially when I know that it is so much better when I trust people, and I don't do everything on my own.                     

                                           

Perspective

For a while, when I was in the States, I had people suggesting that I become a riding instructor with Path international, meaning I would be certified to do therapeutic horseback riding. I was thinking about it, but was very hesitant, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted the responsibility. I have been sort of a co-instructor for some time now, and I’ve even done classes on my own when none of the instructors could make it. And I managed fine. But I didn’t want it on a weekly basis. So much could go wrong. What horses should I use for each rider? What if the horse I wanted to use was lame, or a bit off that day? Who should I replace it with? What about tack? Should this rider use a western saddle? English? What size? Bridle, sidepull, reins, or would they not even be able to control the horse on their own at all? How should I set up the arena? How would I make sure that each rider was getting the most out of their session? It was too much.

And then I came here. And becoming an instructor in the States doesn’t sound so rough. Oh yeah, the certification process would be a bother, but the actual lessons? I’m starting to think they were easier than I used to believe they were.

Here in India, according to the internet (which, as we all know, is 100% accurate…), there is only one certified equine therapy centre. Leg Up is not certified, but we still do great things :~)

Here in Ooty, we do therapy 3 times a week. We have about 10 children who come on a regular basis, and we are working on ways to get transport for more to be able to come. There are a lot of challenges to doing therapy here. My Wednesday and Friday sessions are done here in town, with the Ashia home. It is also a partnership with Hebron school, so I have several of their students coming to help, as well as our rescued girls. I greatly appreciate all of our volunteers; please don’t think I am in any way complaining about them. I am super blessed to have every one of them. There is no way that LU could succeed without them. But we often have just enough people to be leaders and sidewalkers to our riders. This leaves me with the job during each lesson, of being instructor, leader, sidewalker, and backrider in turns. It is very challenging, but at the same time, I am often pleasantly surprised by how well I am able to do all of these. Work here challenges me in ways that work in the States never would (partly because it would probably be illegal for me to try to do all of those jobs during a therapy session), and there really isn’t a choice for me. I could refuse to do it, saying that it’s too much, but then these kids wouldn’t get therapy. And if you saw the kids’ faces; Ashwin giggling, and having his little dance parties on the horse; Sugash talking more and more every week, and doing his exercises and whatnot without even being told to; all the rest of the kids, smiling and waving at the staff while they ride; you would never want to tell them no.

So I have changed my opinion of what is too hard, or too much responsibility. It’s easy to turn down responsibility when there is someone else to do the job. It’s a bit harder when you know that if you say no, things just won’t get done.

Random things

I realized today, as I was going through my camera bag looking for my necklace, that I keep really random things in my bags. Not a lot of them, because I can’t stand having a bunch of stuff I have to dig through. If a bag gets too full, it drives me buggy, and I have to dump it out and get rid of half of the stuff in it. But usually, there will be at least 1 thing that, no matter how pointless it is, I will leave it there.

At the moment, it is a ticket from Arthur Christmas that I saw July 18^th of last year. Kinda weird…I guess when we were at the movie, I just stuck the ticket in my bag, and never took it out. And it will probably be some time before I take it out. Things like that aren’t always just junk. Oh, frequently they are, and when I have junk in my bags, I chuck it out. But it’s funny, because this ticket is like a photo for me. I take it out, and I remember the circumstances around going to see a Christmas movie in July. I remember fun time spent with my cousins. We were trying to get as much time together as possible before I left the country, so I spent the night at their house, then took them home with me to spend a couple of days with me, then went back to their house and went to the county fair to see their 4-H projects. On the 18^th, it was so beastly hot that we almost melted going to the park to go out on the paddleboats. We needed some sort of respite from the heat, and sitting in an air-conditioned theatre was perfect. Especially watching a Christmas movie. I think I was far more amused by the movie than the boys were, but they enjoyed it too.

I seldom even remember that the ticket is in my bag. It’s in a little side pocket that I don’t use much. But if I have to get something out of it, sometimes the ticket falls out, and it reminds me of a really good time. And usually, that’s what the random things in my bag are. Reminders of times that I want brought to mind once in a while. Because, though it’s not good to live in the past, there’s nothing wrong with remembering the good parts, and remembering the people that you care about.