Practice doesn't make perfect... but it does help.

It has been nearly a year now since I began riding lessons. Junie B and I were both green as grass. She had not been ridden regularly for several years. Her riders had been children with no training. We had lessons to learn in discipline, communication, understanding and pecking order. Those first months were tough for both of us.
I loved horses but had never had one of my own. As a child, the horses I rode were owned and cared for by others. My riding teacher showed me how to stand facing a horse who was pushy, expand my chest and speak very loudly while I showed them who was boss. My nervousness and inexperience was sniffed out by Junie B and she tried her best to move me out of the top spot. I was unseated (dumped) a time or two as she tested the limits of my persistence. No injuries since I managed to land on the most well padded part of my anatomy every time. And every time I picked myself up, yelled at Junie B and got back on.
Brooks, my teacher, was patient with me but demanded my best form. She stuck with us both, teaching us to listen to signals, how to communicate through reins and body language, how to work together. Horses, like us, need work to do and a sense of doing it well. Junie B and I are on our way to becoming a team. We are beginning to understand each other. Now when I go to feed donkeys and horses, Junie B comes, elbows the others out of the way and walks by my side down the little hill to the barn, my horse friend. I belong to her and she belongs to me. I am her person and she is my horse.
Winter has been more normal this year in temperature...colder than in past years... so I have not ridden much. But on the first balmy sunny day of spring to come, I tacked up and Junie B and I were off. I was a little nervous, wondering if we had forgotten some of our training during the long winter months. It was a lovely ride, all I have ever dreamed of. We ambled down the hill to the riding ring under construction by the old chicken barn, looped the loop a time or two and then struck off, climbing hills, visiting mama, practicing posting (me) and trotting(Junie B). We were both ready, at a new level of understanding that allowed us to enjoy being together without the earlier struggles.
There is something of my experience with God in this relationship with Junie B. My practice in being with God, my lessons, comes through the liturgical seasons of the year. Each season has something for me to learn. Sometimes I am not ready for the lesson and God lets me walk away. But the repetition, year after year, of lessons yet to be learned, brings me closer to God until one day, I look up, and see where I am. Like the prodigal son, I have somehow come to myself in a strange land. Knowing the way home, I leave the pig pen behind and run all the way back to God who is waiting for me with a lovely welcome. These moments do not come often but they are filled with grace and light and laughter and love. Like the first ride with Junie B this spring with rhythm and grace between us, God’s gracious waiting on me lets us dance together again. I belong to God and God belongs to me. Practice doesn’t make perfect but it does help me grow.
Lent will always be a mystery for me. The suffering, pain, loss and death sometimes cuts too close to the bone for my soul’s comfort. And yet I keep coming back, year after year, waiting on the lessons to be revealed. There is always enough grace to go around and enough struggle to keep me honest. That is more than enough to help me find a new way home to God. I am grateful.