Today is only Tuesday, but it feels as though I am in desperate need for Saturday morning. This week, all two days of it, has been like walking through the primordial sludge, with concrete shoes strapped to my feet, trying to get to the other side to pull myself up out of it just to be able to stand on my own two feet. I feel so much heaviness, it’s indescribable.
My Monday morning started with a nightmare. I was having a dream that my horse had been brought back to me and I was going to be riding him in this barrel racing competition with so many other competitors. We used to love barrel racing. It was always one of our favorite things to do as a team. I think he liked it because I never kicked him or whipped him or yanked on him to do the patterns, he just did it. He did it effortlessly. It was a reward for his structured compliance in our equitation classes. He got to run. That was his favorite. Anyway, just before our turn to take our first run together in almost a year I had to get off of him. My excuse was that I was just going to run to the bathroom really quickly. This isn’t like me, it takes 28 seconds to run a barrel pattern. I got off of him and on my way to the bathroom I met up with a woman that looked identical to Jasmine from Disney’s Aladdin and she intercepted me. Now, sitting down to write this I have no idea the actual words she said to me. But she delayed me enough that when I returned to the arena I was in the middle of a swirling hurricane of brown and bay colored horses stampeding on the rail. I couldn’t find my horse. He was gone. Just like that.
I woke up a sobbing emotional mess and all day my heart was heavy with memory and sorrow. My horse was more than a horse. I had raised him. I had him for 11 years. That’s not an easy nightmare to wake up from when it’s so real and life like. I was sitting on him. I was petting him and smelling him. It will be a year since he’s passed on January 11th. That will be a hard day. All day I sat at my desk and struggled to keep my head down and work through my grief. The grief I thought I had conquered almost a year ago. But no. It was brand new all over again.
Last night, with heart still heavy my “sleep” was restless. If you can even call what I did, sleeping. It was more like fading in and out while I stared at the ceiling. This morning, while nursing my room temperature cup of coffee I am greeted by nothing but sorrow on social media. I don’t expect a whole lot from social media most days, but I generally expect something more lighthearted than what I was greeted with today.
We have a world in complete disarray because of pure evil. There are rising efforts not to help those in need, but to turn them away because of the evil that reared its ugly head in Paris. I have such split opinions on how the situation should be handled and yet, my heart hurts because there are no clear solutions. God calls us to love everyone but culture has conditioned us to always be on the defensive. Of course I want to help those that have been kicked out of their country and their homes. Do I want to sacrifice those I love here to do that? No. Simply put, no. I would not sacrifice someone I love for that cause. There are people waging social media wars to get their opinions heard over Facebook. Is that the place? I don’t think so. But it’s important that people feel heard and if that’s how and where they voice their opinions, than that’s fine. They have a right to. But sharing your fist shaking and loud opinions for both sides will not change the fact that because of the evil that has been harbored among us there are hundreds of people that will not be around their Christmas trees this holiday season. And that is a lot to absorb.
Also all over Facebook is Charlie Sheen’s new HIV status. It is a sad day when one’s sexual health and decisions have to be blasted all over the internet. I applaud him for being honest, because lets face it, it’s not the death sentence it used to be. And because of his decisions other’s lives were at risk. It sounds as though he has taken the necessary precautions for those around him, however, he has children. He has daughters. My heart hurts, it aches for those girls. I’m not just talking about his current health but because they will be left among a cloud of dust when the media circus falls to the ground. They will be left with memories of their father doing drugs and being promiscuous with prostitutes and several wives. I am so saddened by the publicity that something like this has caused.
This morning there is not a lot of positive in the media. I sit here thinking about just how scary it is to think about bringing a child into this world. My fiance is the eternal optimist. He tells me that we raise our children to be the change. To be the good among the bad. But to me that still causes me so much worry. If I had to base this important decision off of what I feel this morning, looking over my morning coffee, my decision would be simply no. Not to bring children into this. I feel like the comparison is putting a gold fish into a piranha tank. With God at our side, he is our eternal soldier. He knows what will come and what is planned for us. It’s so very difficult to move beyond my worries. I worry about everything, day to day that isn’t life or death and now, we, as a nation, are faced with such sadness and evil. There’s nothing left to do but pray.
And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet.