There are some horses who come into your life and leave hoofprints in places no one else can see.

Stetson was that horse for me.

From the beginning, he challenged me. He asked me to be braver than I thought I was, more patient than I wanted to be, and more willing to trust when every sensible part of me wanted to hold on a little tighter.

I loved him deeply.

But sometimes loving an animal means being willing to admit that what you want may not be what is best for them or for you.

Stetson needed someone with the experience, confidence and time to help him become the horse I believe he can be. Coming to that realization was painful. Letting him go was even harder.

When he left our ranch, a piece of my heart went with him.

I know he has gone to a good home, to someone who can give him what he needs. And I also know this: if it ever doesn’t work out, Stetson will always have a home here.

Because love doesn’t disappear just because you let go.

The days after he left were harder than I expected. I cried. I missed seeing him in the pasture. I missed his face and his presence and simply knowing he was here.

Then, with tears still in my eyes, I found myself scrolling through horses for sale on the internet.

I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. Maybe I was just trying to fill the quiet.

And then I saw him.

A beautiful, big bay gelding. There was something about his face that stopped me. He looked gentle. His eyes were kind.

I clicked on his picture.

His name was STETSON!!

My heart sank.

Of all the horses I could have found. Of all the names he could have had.

Stetson.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a little Godwink, a reminder that perhaps endings aren’t always just endings.

My husband and I drove three hours to meet him.

And we fell in love.

 

I think maybe he fell in love with us a little bit, too.

This Thursday, we will make that drive again, only this time we’ll be bringing our new boy home.

Another bay horse will walk into our pasture.

Another Stetson will stand at our fence.

But he isn’t replacing the horse I let go.

My paint Stetson can never be replaced. He has his own place in my heart, and he always will. He taught me courage, patience, grace and unconditional love. Those lessons belong to him.

This new Stetson will have his own story.

I don’t know yet what he will teach me. I don’t know what adventures are waiting for us or what our relationship will become.

But I do know that there is room in a heart for both, the horse you had to love enough to let go, and the horse you are brave enough to love next.

Maybe that is one of the quiet gifts of loving animals.

They teach us that our hearts don’t have to choose between holding on and moving forward.

We can do both.

So this Thursday, I’ll open the trailer door and welcome another Stetson home.

Not as a replacement.

Not as a way to forget.

But as a new beginning.

And somewhere in all of this, I can’t help but smile and think that maybe my first Stetson had something to do with it.

A little Godwink.

A little grace.

And another horse to love

Until next time, be kind to each other,

xoxo

Cindy

Romans 12:9-10