A rescued horse and a boy in PJ's

Walking down the path through the woods, I knew this day would be a bit more challenging for sessions. It was our second time with teenage boys from a local group home, and we knew from the previous interaction that most of these guys would much prefer the air-conditioning and a game controller over being outside in the heat with “smelly horses.”

We had a plan for an activity that we’ve often done that usually gets even the most unengaged kids to participate. Eager horses were standing at the crossties anticipating the welcomed grooming sessions that start off the activity. Standing next to each horse was a faithful volunteer ready to pour in- but it was not to be. This particular group home always gives their residents freedom to choose to do an activity or not and so our approach has to be different. I found myself a little disappointed as only one young man in this group of 10 stepped forward to engage in the activity.

I gave the telltale helpless shrug to my other volunteers who were standing ready with their eager horses. It signaled to them to just disperse and intermix among the remaining group. The one participant started grooming his horse with one of our staff members and I silently and observed.

“They need to meet Sparrow” came to my mind- but not so much in my voice, it was a nudge from the Holy Spirit. A dozen thoughts flooded my mind in an instant, none of which were positive, all swirling around all of the things that could go wrong bringing new horse-of whom I’ve interacted with relatively little- into a group of somewhat oblivious teenage boys. But I knew enough to know by now that when God interrupts like that, you step out in obedience.

“I’ll be over there” I told one of our staff, leaving my planned role as main leader for the day’s session. She gave a curious, then knowing look. God was up to something.

I entered Sparrow’s pen and approached him, he did his usual walk away, and demanded I respect him enough to give him the time to process what was being asked of him. “Oof, this will be interesting,” I thought. I ran through the safety parameters I’d need to communicate with them: “don’t go behind him, approach softly, he’s very new and we don’t know how he will react so we have to be extra safe…” I removed his fly mask revealing his still-to-be-removed ulcerated tumor, which seemed to look particularly gnarly today, and walked him over.

The moment the boys sitting on the bench saw him a hush followed by exclamations rang out:

“He’s so thin!”

“I can see his ribs!”

“What happened to him?!”

“Woah, That looks bad!”

“Oh (explicative) his eye!”

“This is Sparrow,” I introduced. “He was just rescued a few weeks ago and is still in pretty rough shape.”Two of the boys approached with a bit too much energy, Sparrow responding with deliberate steps back and avoiding the hands wanting to greet him with a pet.

“He’s not totally sure of people- especially of men- yet.” I explained. “I don’t know his full story but someone just disregarded him. In fact, he was kept in a yard full of junk with a dilapidated shed. He’s got a nasty eye tumor that will have to be removed and even though he’s gained 100lbs already, he still has a few hundred to go.”

“Man, that’s sad” one of them said- indicating the first hint of softness from them since they arrived.

“You know,” I said, a bit surprised at what I was about to ask, “do y’all want to help me train him? You see how he keeps avoiding your reach out to him, we’re trying to help him realize that he can trust us. Men especially.”

The first “I’ll help!” surprisingly came from one of the most melancholy of the group, who hung out in the back, dressed head to toe in black and an oversized hoodie. The second from one still in pajamas despite the later hour in the day.

We walked into the round pen and I gave them instructions. They had to work together.

When Sparrow was looking at them, they were to make themselves as relaxed and quiet as possible. When he wasn’t paying attention or looking away, they were to use their hands in a jumping jack motion to drive him forward. “The lead horse is the one who moves the other horse's feet. We have to help him know you’re the leader in this dynamic before we can do anything else.”

With a few tweaks in technique, they synced up and had Sparrow moving well around the pen. Sparrow clearly hadn’t had much liberty or round pen work in his history, and was trying to figure out the correct answer but not quite understanding.

“Ok” I called a pause. “Let’s do this. Right now he’s having a hard time trying to figure out the right answer. A good leader helps someone understand, right?” They nodded. “So, we’re going to be good leaders for him and make it a little easier to help him find the right answer.” I directed the younger teen in PJ’s to position himself along the perimeter of the pen, and the older kid in black to continue to help drive Sparrow with the jumping-jack motion from the center. The goal was to help Sparrow come to the boy in PJ’s guiding him step-by-step in the right direction.

They listened intently to the instructions, and then worked with each other in an impressive display of teamwork and patience, gently directing Sparrow to the right response and encouraging him along the way.

Then, in a pensive moment of decision, Sparrow locked onto the kid in PJ’s, lowered his head, took tentative steps forward and extended his muzzle to his hand. Everyone stood still. “Right there,” I said. “Now take a really big deep breath and back away again.” Sparrow followed.

The moment lingered. They both understood the importance of this interaction- not just for Sparrow, but for this kid who realized he had a gift to offer this horse that was as unique as he was, and that it was incredibly valuable.

Then, with sudden precision Sparrow whirled around and positioned himself behind him with his head at his right shoulder.

The boy startled and looked at me with a silent, “help???”

“Well that was unexpected!” I exclaimed with a laugh, then paused to ponder and realized what happened. “You know what, I think he wants to follow you. He feels safer that way. Go ahead and take a few steps forward.” He hesitated, as if to not want to break the single thread of trust that had been newly spun. “It’s ok,” I encouraged. “He has to choose to follow you. We can’t force him. That’s how we know trust is there.”

The weight of that statement hung in the air for a bit longer. Then, walking like he didn’t want to make a sound that would cause a startle, he began to step…

And so did Sparrow.

It was hard not to shout with joy. I think the Lord put His hand over my mouth to keep me from doing so.

Halfway around the arena I quietly asked him to stop, turn around and scratch Sparrow on his shoulder. Sparrow soaked in the affection. They both did.

One big sigh later, while facing each other he gently placed his hand on Sparrow's forehead he said, “I never thought I’d get to teach a horse to learn to trust.” And I wonder if Sparrow thought the same about his new human friend in PJ’s.

The phrase hung in the air as activity buzzed around us.

A few of the boys ran off to go in search of gardener snakes, another group offered to help bring some hay to our eagerly awaiting herd, both were completely oblivious to the incredible moment that had just happened mere feet away.

And there was Sparrow, and a teenage boy in PJ’s, both telling one another it was ok to learn to trust in a way they could each understand. Only Jesus!

These poignant moments are ones that time just seems to stand still. When truth so deep begins to resonate within one’s soul that will echo into eternity.

I thought about just how sovereign God is to have orchestrated that interaction between a forgotten boy with a forgotten horse both learning to trust together. And how privileged I was to get to witness it.

I lifted my eyes in a quiet, “Thank you,” to the Lord, for being so faithful to reach another one of His kids through another one of His horses in a way each could understand. 

Written by Carissa Ramsdell

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