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. 

Day 7-Playing tour guide

·        My camera came back to life!!!

·        David’s excitement about the knives in the market

·        All the questions I was able to answer about the market and Ooty. Though I definitely couldn’t answer them all.

·        Talking about camp, and the great things that happened, and changes that could be made to improve it.

·        Realizing that I am actually staff here. I have been involved with other Freedom Firm events, and helped to make a difference here, but now I am staff. I feel more ownership in the work that happens here. It is a powerful thing.

·        Hanging out at the Malsteads’ while we waited for the Americans to arrive.

·        Talking about books and movies and boys and all sorts of other things with Kavi and Rachael.

·        Going to Willy’s for a late dinner

·        “It’s a hard flavour to describe, but it’s definitely blue.”

·        All of the laughter

·        The looks the guys at Willy’s gave us when we were all laughing so hard

·        David’s story about peeing on the roof. 

Day 6-Leaving camp

·        Kayaking with Madeline, Pradeep, David, and Sylvia

·        Seeing Langurs by the water

·        Upma for breakfast

·        Helping to tear down tents with Pradeep and the Americans

·        Firefighting.

·        The gorge walk.

·        Climbing a tree with Chocolate

·        Helping girls cross the stream with Ben. So much for my last dry pair of jeans. :~)

·        Footwashing. The things Ben said when he washed my feet, about how special I am to God, and that God dances over me because I bring him joy.

·        Holding hands with Madeline while we walked back to camp.

·        The ride back to Ooty in the truck

·        Sharing camp jokes a few more times before we parted ways.

·        Hearing how a message I sent a couple of months ago was something that really made a difference in a friend’s life, and was prompted by the Holy Spirit, not just something I wrote.

·        The American guys talking about how they would be more refreshed going home, in spite of the lack of sleep and everything we did.

·        Diagnosing my injured foot with Madeline. Neither of us like doctors, so we determined I didn’t need one :~)

Day 5-2nd (and last :~( ) full day at camp.

·        Tri-lingual jokes during the bonfire. Hilarious, even when you can’t understand the first 2 languages they’re told in.

·        Convincing Mitu to kayak and abseil.

·        Having Madeline come up randomly and give me a hug when we were all standing around.

·        Sharing blankets and body heat to keep myself and the girls from freezing our butts off.

·        Hearing how just a few minutes of horse riding made an impact.

·        Towing Soni in from kayaking when she was pretending she couldn’t kayak.

·        Finding just how much I can come to love people in just a few days when I may never see them again.

·        “We all have the same heart to feel another’s pain.”

·        “Shadow of Heaven”

·        Seeing how happy Mala was in the kayak

·        Going for a stroll with Deep in the moonlight, and seeing deer bounding through the brush.

·        Talking with Sylvia when neither of us wanted to sleep.

·        Being the last person awake in the camp. 

·        Hearing how Avalanche impacts the girls.

·        Having girls come up and hold my hand as we’re walking.