I have a confession to make. Sometimes I'd rather be with my horses than with people. When my world falls apart [which seems to happen often] and I feel as if I'm drowning in the void of life, first I pray, then I run to my horses, fall upon their necks and pour out my sorrows.

When I'm all alone and need something warm to hold, they're always there for me. They whinny softly when they see me coming, listen silently to my rantings—their brown liquid eyes filled with that lost look of love—then they tell me in their own way that I'll be okay: They nudge me with their velvety muzzles, blow their warm, humid breath upon my palm and my ears, and make me feel like they've been waiting for me all day and night. "I'm so glad you're here!" they say. "I've been waiting and waiting for you, and now you're finally here!"

Maybe their size alone makes me feel like, if I can control them—make them turn and run and walk and spin—surely I can control my own life. They have an uncanny way of putting everything into perspective, showing me in their gentle way that life really is simple, and I'm the one that keeps muddling it all up and making it complicated. They're honest because they don't have the ability to be any other way. Their honesty astounds me, grounds me, and forces me to look directly into the face of God.

"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children [simple, honest, innocent], you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." My horses help me unfurl the complexities of my life; they help me back out of the maze I've created by my unwise decisions; they turn me around to face life with a renewed sense of just BEING. My horses help me to love life in spite of my own stupidity.

So this morning when I drove out in the frosty fog of dawn to their paddocks and saw their raised heads, their soft pointed ears, their eagerness to spend time with me, I felt incredibly blessed. I felt grateful that each day is a new beginning; a new chance to make wise decisions, to breathe in the simple treasures that we overlook in our busy lives, and to thank my Lord God for giving me these soft, fuzzy reminders of his love.