Then, just a few weeks later we packed up the RAV and drove south to Oregon.
Our plan was to attend a three day workshop at Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch,
which became the first of it's kind to pair once abused horses with kids/ youth out of neglect and abuse and facilitate healing.
which became the first of it's kind to pair once abused horses with kids/ youth out of neglect and abuse and facilitate healing.
The worshop was so much more than about a gentle approach to horsemanship
and how to set up a non-profit.
I included two true stories written by Kim Meeder, the founder, who has also written books- and encourage you to take the time to read them.
It very much confirmed our plans and the calling we feel:
and how to set up a non-profit.
I included two true stories written by Kim Meeder, the founder, who has also written books- and encourage you to take the time to read them.
It very much confirmed our plans and the calling we feel:
We have this vision for 'the farm' for it to be a safe place for youth/ young adults and four legged creatures alike.
It will not be a second Chrystal Peaks, but something different.
It will not be a second Chrystal Peaks, but something different.
So off we went admiring the rugged landscapes, open skies and deep gorges of Central Oregon.
Destination: Bend, OR.
This is Little Bear, coming up to greet me.
And this is his story : (Animal Lovers, continue to read...)
"I knew that if he could survive traveling 1000 miles packed into my trailer with 100 other PMU babies who were three times his size, he was meant to be yours."
Virginia said as we made our way through her "new arrivals" corral.
Virginia and her sister rescue PMU (Pregnant Mare Urine) horses by the hundreds and bring them down to Central Oregon. It was late in the fall and they had just returned with a new load of yearlings.
With a voice broken by emotion, she recounted how the young horses were all gathered into a large corral in Canada to make it easier to be purchased by those who were coming to buy them. During the night bears entered the corral and because the young horses were so tightly packed together they could not escape the attacking bears. Many babies were killed. Many more were seriously or mortally wounded.
The dying and wounded horses were placed into a separate corral to be euthanized, Virginia shared with me how she could not bear to even walk by this corral knowing that these young horses were soon to be put down.
As she passed by...she looked.
Of the gruesome carnage there was one foal that she just simply could not look away from. He was the tiniest, an infant of no more than a few weeks old. He should have still been by the protective side of his mother, not shaking within a herd of mortally wounded babies.
His hind end was seriously injured, but Virginia felt that he could recover if he was given the chance.
Together we carefully made our way through the resting young horses. My tender hearted friend scanned the herd for the special infant that she had just told me about.
"There he is" she said as the babies parted before us.
He WAS tiny.
He moved on gangly legs that seemed far too big and clumsy to be supporting such a little body. He was buckskin in color with the crowned head and feathered legs of a draft type.
As he turned away from us his injuries came into full view.
Clearly, the bear had attacked from behind by clawing into both hind quarters. Though both sides were injured, the left side was far more damaged with underlying structures involved.
Individual claw marks could still be seen around an avulsion of his hamstring muscle.
We named him "Little Bear" to honor his humble beginnings.
His extensive wounds took nine months to close. He came as a frightened 300 pound infant that was badly injured.
Today, scars and all, he is 1000 pounds of pure buckskin "play"! His scared areas seem to be shrinking as he rapidly grows into his Clydesdale heritage.
He has enjoyed his ground training so much that we have started ponying him to continue his rehabilitation. Virginia was right, he was given a chance...and he DID recover.
And that's why he represents: HOPE
Eclipse is a true beauty:
The story of Hero:
I was wrong.
On October 18, Troy and I were contacted by those in charge of recovering a small horse that was found by hunters, wandering in the high wilderness of the Cascade Mountains.
Evident by his halter and dragging lead rope, the bay Arab gelding was clearly not wild.
Instead, while he was being transported to Bend Equine Medical Center for emergency treatment, he was kind and gentle, quietly submitting to those who were trying to care for him.
Based on what little information that could be gathered, it was estimated that he had been wandering for several weeks. Even for a young, small horse, he looked to be about 200 lbs. underweight and was incredibly dehydrated.
Once at the hospital, it was confirmed… his wounds were severe.
An injury on the back of his left front cannon was so festered with rampant infection that its rotten stench filled the emergency room.
A makeshift bandage of green vet wrap had grown into the leg and effectively become a tourniquet, destroying much of the flesh below it.
Once the layers of caked blood, puss and bio matter were removed, the tendons of his leg were clearly visible.
Even more troubling was the fact that his left eye was completely destroyed and
hanging out of its socket.
There was also a very ominous looking depression wound
behind his left eye.
His head, neck, shoulder and front leg gave further evidence of the severity of his injuries, as they were heavily crusted with his own blood.
As bad as his eye injury was…his head injury was much worse.
X-rays revealed the UNTHINKABLE:
This gentle, little horse with the kind spirit had been shot in the head—TWICE!
His x-rays clearly showed where someone had shot him through the left eye with a solid bullet, and then shot him again behind his left eye with a hollow point.
The trajectory of the second bullet traveled through the top of his lower jaw, shattering it, and continued on to penetrate his skull as it exploded into nearly three dozen—inoperable—fragments of jagged shrapnel.
Compounding his plight even further, his blood tests showed that he had lost fully HALF of his blood volume.
It was hard to believe, looking at him for the first time, that he had survived for an undetermined amount of time with a horrifically infected leg wound, a broken jaw, a destroyed eye and lethal blood loss, all with two exploded bullets scattered throughout his head. If this wasn’t bad enough, he was also left to wander in a dense, high altitude forest while dragging a lead rope.
Any one of these things shouldhave destroyed him.
Yet, here he was, standing before me, blinking inquisitively at my presence with his one remaining eye.
I was overcome with the thought that…it was a complete MIRACLE he was standing at all!
It appeared that someone felt his legwound was just too much for them to deal with or perhaps they thought that it was a fatal wound.
Inexplicable, they believed that loading up their friend and driving him to a remote location to be destroyed… was their best option. A ‘best guess’ is that the offender shot him through the eye and realized that their ammunition was not powerful enough and then shot him again behind the left eye with a hollow point bullet, designed for nothing less than maximum damage.
Authorities believe that the impact of the second bullet knocked him unconscious and he fell to the ground. Bleeding profusely from his wound, it was presumed that during this time, he bled out half of his blood volume. Thinking he was dead, the perpetrator left the scene.
Miraculously, the little horse woke up.
Somehow, summoning the strength to stand, he lurched to his feet and staggered away.
Yet, even though his wounds are grave— he is not.
Because of his indomitable spirit and will to keep fighting for his life, he was initially called ‘Trooper.’ True to that title, he is continuing to make meaningful progress in his efforts to heal.
It is estimated that he will be well enough to come home to Crystal Peaks sometime around Thanksgiving.
Because of the severity of his injuries, his recovery will be long and intensive. The staff, volunteers and kids who ome to the ranch are not only up for the challenge of caring for a critically ill horse… they can’t wait until he comes home.
Instead of ‘waiting,’ they are going to him!
Since the moment it was determined that this special horse was going to be coming home to the ranch, I have packed dozens of kids into my truck and ferried them to the equine hospital.
Each ‘well wisher’ comes armed with the same sweet hope, each is determined to help this
wounded, little soul KNOW that he is greatly loved.
I visit my new friend nearly everyday.
During the times that we are alone together, I often brush him, or softly sing when he seems in pain or sometimes sit quietly in his ward with a notepad in my lap.
In these past days of spending time with my wounded boy, I have become very aware of something remarkable about him.
He is courageous, he is a survivor, he has fought HARD to live, to keep going.
Most horses would have perished when faced with just one of his symptoms.
Yet, he survived what many would believe to be unthinkable odds. The more I ponder our gelding, the more I realize how remarkably symbolic he is…of so many of us.
At some point in nearly each of our lives, we go through “horrible, unthinkable” times.
We feel as if we have been led out into the wilderness, perhaps by those we loved and trusted, badly beaten and left for dead.
We stumble away, wandering within the desolation of loneliness, unable to help ourselves, unable to stop the‘hemorrhaging,’ unable to find our way home. Our horizon begins to fade into gray. Death looms.
Yet, it is within this very place, within our darkest night, our deepest wilderness, our greatest despair, when our hope is bleeding out…if we call on His name… He comes.
Jesus comes into the wreckage of our heart, our blackest place, our wasteland of hopelessness…and He leads us home.
Like a wounded soldier returning from battle, or a little horse from the mountains, we too can choose to fall into the welcome arms of the One who loves us.
We, like the soldier or horse, might not look the same on the outside.
When we come home from our ‘battle in the wilderness,’ we might be scared or disfigured, we might carry the marks of our wounding. et, as a small boy here at the ranch has so honestly and eloquently stated about Syngin, one of the horses,
“He knows that I love him. I told him that I don’t mind the scars on the outside…it’s the inside that I love.”
It’s not what the outside looks like that makes him a ‘hero,’ it’s the inside, it’s the heart…that’s what makes a REAL hero.
Perhaps this season finds you in a difficult place, a private ‘wilderness.’
If so, this is what I know is true; we can never be too wounded for the Lord to heal.
We can never be too lost for Him to find.We can never be too broken for Him to love back
to life.
We can never fall so deep into despair, that His immeasurable love for us—EACH of us—is not deeper still.
There is no such place of sorrow, no such wilderness of pain…that He cannot find us, help us stand up and lead us home.
Because this little horse is so symbolic
of this beautiful truth, we hope that you will be pleased to know that we have decided to rename him in honor of those who have chosen, within their wilderness, to reach for the hand of the Lord and together—step by step—begin our journey home.
Although, he was once known as ‘Trooper,’ he is now… our ‘Hero.’
During the times that we are alone together, I often brush him, or softly sing when he seems in pain or sometimes sit quietly in his ward with a notepad in my lap.
In these past days of spending time with my wounded boy, I have become very aware of something remarkable about him.
He is courageous, he is a survivor, he has fought HARD to live, to keep going.
Most horses would have perished when faced with just one of his symptoms.
Yet, he survived what many would believe to be unthinkable odds. The more I ponder our gelding, the more I realize how remarkably symbolic he is…of so many of us.
At some point in nearly each of our lives, we go through “horrible, unthinkable” times.
We feel as if we have been led out into the wilderness, perhaps by those we loved and trusted, badly beaten and left for dead.
We stumble away, wandering within the desolation of loneliness, unable to help ourselves, unable to stop the‘hemorrhaging,’ unable to find our way home. Our horizon begins to fade into gray. Death looms.
Yet, it is within this very place, within our darkest night, our deepest wilderness, our greatest despair, when our hope is bleeding out…if we call on His name… He comes.
Jesus comes into the wreckage of our heart, our blackest place, our wasteland of hopelessness…and He leads us home.
Like a wounded soldier returning from battle, or a little horse from the mountains, we too can choose to fall into the welcome arms of the One who loves us.
We, like the soldier or horse, might not look the same on the outside.
When we come home from our ‘battle in the wilderness,’ we might be scared or disfigured, we might carry the marks of our wounding. et, as a small boy here at the ranch has so honestly and eloquently stated about Syngin, one of the horses,
“He knows that I love him. I told him that I don’t mind the scars on the outside…it’s the inside that I love.”
It’s not what the outside looks like that makes him a ‘hero,’ it’s the inside, it’s the heart…that’s what makes a REAL hero.
Perhaps this season finds you in a difficult place, a private ‘wilderness.’
If so, this is what I know is true; we can never be too wounded for the Lord to heal.
We can never be too lost for Him to find.We can never be too broken for Him to love back
to life.
We can never fall so deep into despair, that His immeasurable love for us—EACH of us—is not deeper still.
There is no such place of sorrow, no such wilderness of pain…that He cannot find us, help us stand up and lead us home.
Because this little horse is so symbolic
of this beautiful truth, we hope that you will be pleased to know that we have decided to rename him in honor of those who have chosen, within their wilderness, to reach for the hand of the Lord and together—step by step—begin our journey home.
Although, he was once known as ‘Trooper,’ he is now… our ‘Hero.’
| God is so amazing. Only He can take what should be the end of us . . . and have that same hardship be the axis by which our entire life rotates toward greater depth and fulfillment in Him.
We have discovered that Hero’s rescue was not the ‘happy ending’ of his story but, instead, it has become the very beginning.
Now we know that ‘avalanches’ are not only restricted to falling snow! Since the release of the ‘Hero Story’, we have been BURIED under a wave of pure, white compassion. In response to your kindhearted encouragements and inquiries, we wish to give you an update on how our little Hero is progressing.
After four weeks in the intensive care unit at Bend Equine Medical Hospital, the devoted veterinary team that was caring for Hero determined that his blood volume had finally reached a safe level for them to remove his destroyed left eye. Once Hero was sedated, Dr. Wayne worked on his eye and head while Dr. Wendy attempted an aggressive skin stretching procedure to help close the wound on his leg.
Our little Hero has since come home to a real hero’s welcome. His story of undying hope reached across the Northwest and beyond.
While pulling up the ranch driveway with my sweet son in tow, I could hardly believe the sight that greeted us! Tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove through a cheering hallway of waving arms all reaching out to welcome us. Over 300 people had gathered from all over the Northwest and Canada to hail this, once abandoned, horse into his new family. A large contingent of media was also waiting to cover this inspiring story. Hero was finally home.
While slowly maneuvering through the applauding crowd, I was so deeply moved by every bright and cheering face.
Amongst the crush, Hero backed out of the trailer and turned around to survey the scene with his one remaining eye. He was not afraid, he was not nervous. His only expression was one of pure awe. I wondered if he might be contemplating if this is what it feels like to finally enter Heaven. Surrounded by your beloved, many clothed in tears of joy at your long awaited arrival, cheering, clapping, and embracing . . . because you’ve finally come home.
Within these past months, we have seen a tremendous amount of healing that has taking place.
As this restorative season continues, we are learning more every day that only a small portion of this renewal has actually occurred within our little horse, the majority has taken place within your hearts, lives and families. Individuals across the nation have been profoundly moved by this brave horse that just kept choosing to never quit. The mountain of cards, letters, emails and phone calls all give unique testimony to this fact.
In an effort to help Hero, a small group of children from Paisley middle school endured a self proclaimed ‘walk-a-thon’ and raised 1,200 dollars to help buy bandages for his leg wound.
A young man sent his sincere encouragement—from Holland. A five year old boy opted to forgo his birthday right of receiving presents and chose instead to give his ‘birthday money’ to Hero. Held within a brown paper sack, was delivered his winsome gift of several bandages and fifteen dollars. News of Hero’s story made headlines in nearly every local newspaper and to our incredulous surprise, even made the front page of The Oregonian on Christmas day! Within the stir of publicity around this kind, little horse, hundreds have contacted us with their own beautiful story of renewed hope inspired by Hero. One envelope came to the ranch containing nothing but a post-it note. The message was simple but earnest. Without name or identification, it merely said “I was thinking of ending it all, until I read about Hero. I have decided to change my mind. . . thank you.”
The message of Hero’s life is straightforward,
‘if I can make it . . . YOU can make it. If I can survive miraculous odds . . . so can you.’ His life is a testimony to the fact that we have a ‘Miraculous Lord’. Like a great scale, it is often out of our deepest tragedies that our greatest hope, our greatest joys arise. 2 Corinthians 1: 3-4 gives testimony to this truth. Our suffering isn’t something that happens because God isn’t paying attention. On the contrary, our suffering has great purpose. The all encompassing comfort that the Lord gives us in our time of need, is powerful enough to not only heal our heart—but those around us who suffering in a similar way. God’s comfort in our time of distress is so prevailing that His healing hope not only fills our heart, it overflows to all in need.
Amongst a steady steam of visitors, our sweet boy is settling in very well. His leg wound, though severe, is slowly closing.
He is making new friends within our herd and is enjoying life simply as a horse, never again to be confined to a stall or sequestered away from his own kind. At the sound of my voice, he answers with a high pitched call in return. While changing his large bandage, I have learned to feed him a small amount of grain to quell his curiosity and keep him from licking the back of my coat, chewing on my hair or stealing my hat. He doesn’t seem to know that he should be depressed, sad or full of rage at the injustice he has endured. Hero just never has a bad day. Instead, he is bright. He is joyful. He is incredibly playful. Yet, most of all, he has clearly chosen to simply be . . . happy.
By his example, he inspires me along with all others--to do the same."
Kim Meeder
And here he is. Hero came to greet me at the fence:
|
We learned a lot, but also enjoyed the food and fellowship in between
Clinics:
"Bozeman"
(one of my personal favorite pics)
This little dog was a rescue as well.
She almost died as she was rescued sick and weak
and it was later discovered that she had metal arrow embedded deep in her neck.
And then there is Mia who is completely blind, but still loves to snuggle with kids and chase the ball...
We left deeply touched and enjoyed the connections we made with all creatures alike-
human and otherwise.
We knew in our hearts that it was time to go back home, finish our home renos and put the house up for sale.
Time to go and follow what has been in our hearts for quite a few years....
It was a gorgeous drive to the Oregon Coast through the mountains.
My most favorite coastline in the world
Then a last stop in Portland to pick up a furry friend from a dog breeder to bring home to Canada for my dear friend Leanne.
It did not take long for us to bond.
It took him all but 15 Min to fall asleep in my arms ;)
I miss you, Rubster!
Making our way up the coast through Forks, WA.
This one is for you, my Twilight friends:
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