Perhaps the real genesis of this story began long, long ago, whenever my sisters and I—entranced by Mom’s childhood equine tales—started collecting model horses and dreaming of wild Paints, Arabians, and Friesians tamed at our fingertips. Those were the days when we hefted saddles onto our 4-H heifers in anticlimactic anticipation of riding into the sunset. It’s been several years since we’ve owned a horse, so tapping into my dusty knowledge brought forth a slow and gentle remembrance of my youthful zeal for horses…
When my team Praying Children visited a countryside ger in Mongolia, we had the opportunity to take turns riding a horse, to my enthusiasm! Unfortunately, only two of us got a turn to ride before the owner needed to round up his cows for the night. I greatly regretted that Ari didn’t ride before me since she has barely had horse experience, so I hoped for her to experience an epic horseback adventure in Kyrgyzstan.
Then, we switched teams and entered our month in Kyrgyzstan as a team of women, Adamant Eve. Early on, we celebrated Allie’s birthday with a brunch and she expressed her birthday desire to adventure on horseback during our month in Kyrgyzstan.
Almost every day, I shared a horse fact at our breakfast table.
- HEELS DOWN: Keep your heels down so that your feet don’t slip through the stirrups, get stuck, and then you fall off and get dragged.
- EMERGENCY BRAKE: If your horse stampedes without your permission, pull one rein to bring your horse’s nose to your knee—they can’t run easily that way.
- CHECK THE GIRTH STRAP: To prevent your saddle from sliding into a belly dance, double-check that the belt is tight after your horse relaxes into normal breathing.
- EYES AHEAD: Look where you want to go. Subconsciously, your body subtly responds to your direction, and since horses can detect a fly on the tips of their fur, they can also detect the tiniest rotation in your hips and flex of your muscles.
- REIN IN YOUR EMOTIONS: Horses respond to how you feel, so be a boss and harbor no fear, even though your horse may weigh 1,000 pounds more than you.
Molly once told me that as she talks about Jesus, her affection is stirred up for Him. I saw this pattern illustrated in the way we were living: The more we talked about horses, the more we emotionally invested in the hope to ride. It’s biblical truth—what we say and think about is deeply tied to what we desire, so we can direct our hearts’ desires by choosing to think and talk about what is worthy (Luke 6:45)(Colossians 3:2). “Now if we put the bits into the horses’ mouths so that they will obey us, we direct their entire body as well. Look at the ships also, though they are so great and are driven by strong winds, are still directed by a very small rudder wherever the inclination of the pilot desires. So also the tongue is a small part of the body, and yet it boasts of great things. See how great a forest is set aflame by such a small fire!” (James 3:3-5)
Even though we talked about it, we didn’t know if we’d get to ride. The weather changed frequently—it’s unpredictable in the valley around Karakol, Kyrgyzstan—so we rescheduled and HOPED to go. Our anticipation built up until the end of the month, when our day off providentially aligned with ideal weather.
Seven of us hiked from our hostel to a small business coordinating horseback treks. The fun of choosing a beautiful horse initially overshadowed some girls’ past experiences and fears, emboldening them to bravely try riding again. Ashley was hoping to ride a multi-colored horse. Our guides had her mount a plain horse, but after it freaked out with Ashley on board, the guides matched her with a much tamer, multi-colored dapple, thus fulfilling her prayers. (Thankfully, this occurred before we set out. One of the guides rode that horse instead, and he misbehaved the entire ride.)
{Photo: Starting out.}
Once we had our horses, we named them: Joey, Chewie, Tony, Pepper, Bullseye, Negro, and my horse, Gentleman. Secretly, I was hoping for a horse who wouldn’t mindlessly pony behind the others, but who would maybe even get a tad frisky. I got what I wanted, and a little extra. Although I had observed how Gentleman was tied in a separate area from all the other horses, I didn’t know why. As it turned out, he was an angsty mischief-maker around other horses, provoking them to kick and bite at him. I learned to ride in the rear and keep him distant from everyone else.
{Photo: Ari on Chewie, before he started eating endlessly.}
Even though all month we had amply discussed potential risks and how to respond, all the problems seemed amplified when we were actually on our horseback trek. Many of our horses were frisky steeds once on the trail, trotting, competing to be in the lead, bucking, and spooking at cows and mud puddles. I eyeballed the jagged rocks we were weaving through, helmet-less on slightly wild beasts, and my heart nearly ballooned and popped. Lord, have mercy—please protect us all. I thought of Psalm 34:7, “The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him, and rescues them,” and steadied my breath and mind. We fear the Lord. We are surrounded by angels. My hope is in God, and nothing less. With renewed faith, I resolved to ride fearlessly until the end.
{Photo: Going up the hill and avoiding thorny bushes.}
We almost thought it was the end—with our lives flashing before our eyes—when we rode past a herd of cows on the far side of the mountain. I was in the middle of photographing the breathtaking scenery when Gentleman suddenly bucked and bolted into a gallop. My hat flew off. Somehow I caught my hat, maintained my grip on my phone, forced him to stop with his nose to my knee, and managed to not fall down the steep hill to the left. Thank God! The rest of our group had gone ahead me. Catching up to them, I learned I wasn’t the only one whose horse had gotten angsty around those cows. Could these cows be possessed?? We wondered. (Check out a story about the power of Jesus to free a man of a legion of demons, who then possessed pigs in Luke 8:26-39.) Some girls started singing worship songs and the horses calmed down.
{Photos: Spooky cows, steep drop-off.}
As if the horses’ misbehaviors weren’t sufficient excitement, other factors in our real experience impinged on our romanticized daydream. The milder horses mostly refused to run or keep up with unruly ones, segregating our cohort over the hills. They plodded along and dipped their heads to the bushes, trying to satisfy their endless munchies. We tried to carefully steer our horses, but thorny bushes often reached out and clawed us from both sides anyway. Saddle size is NOT one size fits all. Our stirrups were unamendably too short, cramping our knees like jockeys. Despite skyscrapers of cushions mounded on the wooden frames, hours of rubbing and pinching made us sore before we even reached the halfway point in our trek. Yet we were so thankful for the opportunity to ride! “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).
{Photo: View from the pinnacle of our ride.}
By the time we reached the pinnacle of our ride and dismounted for a rest, I felt like Eyegore, stiff, crooked, seasick and wobbly on land. I crumpled onto the ground and stretched out my legs while I snacked on pretzels and apples with my teammates. “We didn’t know,” Allie remarked, “when we were laughing at the daily breakfast horse facts, that we would need every single one of them to save our lives today!” We relaxed, feeling like victorious survivors. After taking photos of my friends with the stunning mountain backdrop, I limped over to Gentleman—who was hobbled but still wandering away—to offer him my apple core as a thank you gift before our ride home.
{Photos: Susanna and Ashley at our resting spot.}
{Photo: Hobbled for lunch.}
I’d like to say that the second leg of our adventure was easier, but it was perhaps only the sentiment of relief at the thought of being on our way home that made it seem so. Allie’s horse immediately took a stubborn detour up a hill while the rest of us rode down into a valley. Susanna’s horse refused to move out of the way while several horses tried to pass her. My horse kept trying to pass the others and kick at them in the process, but I held him back because he was most peaceful away from the herd. As I learned what Gentleman needed, I treated him accordingly.
{Photo: Molly, in her thrive zone. She rode alongside our teammates and coached them with reminders of the horsemanship tips we gave all month.}
I talked to my horse almost constantly, saying kind and thankful things, like “Good boy!” and “Jesus loves you!” (#practicesharingthegospel) I found myself more peaceful as a result, and Gentleman eased his own muscles in response. At one point, other horses misbehaved and I preemptively tightened Gentleman’s reins. His agitation increased. Then I remembered how calm he was when I believed he is a good horse and treated him as such. I relaxed and reminded him that he’s good. We both instantly calmed down. I thought, “What would happen if I as intentionally treated people around me with the kindness and grace I am willing to show to an ‘innocent,’ bucking horse? If this horse responds so positively to my kindness without necessarily understanding me, how much more would people respond if I consistently assume and proclaim the best of them?” Convicted to do better in my relationships with people, I felt the day was about much more than just an adventure.
{Photo: Me, on Gentleman.}
Riding through the gate toward home, I neared one of the guides and asked him questions. Gentleman’s real name was actually Mishka. What does that mean? The guide gestured and said, “RAARRRR.” Perhaps it means bear or monster… I leaned forward and tried to peer into my horse’s eyes from his back. He’s sweet, a gentleman. He’s also a wild thing, a mishka. What a paradox.
{Photo: Mishka, tied separately from the herd.}
We said our goodbyes, paradoxically relieved and grieved our ride was over. I tousled Mishka’s forelock and cooed to him, whispering gently in his ear: “I wish I could ride you again, every day. But next time, with a helmet.”
{Photos: Molly’s and Jenny’s bittersweet goodbyes.}
