Stand...Walk On...Trot...Dance

Junie B and me... We are taking lessons learning, how to ride. Our teacher, Brookes, is a neighbor. She meets us in front of the high barn and the work commences. Like ballroom dancing, it is a partner process with choreography, balance, cues, and rhythm. At the end of the lesson, all three of us are lathered up.
In the beginning Junie B was barn sour, a term Brookes uses to describe a horse who has forgotten the rules of riding. She didn’t want to work and would buck a little when ridden. Saddling and bridling her was a chore for greenhorn me. Brookes is teaching us the freedom that comes with the discipline of work to do. A little honey on the bridle helps Junie B take the bit. Mary Poppins was right... a spoonful of sugar does help the medicine go down.
I am learning to lunge Junie B. A horse moves at the end of a long lead tapped lightly with a whip to verbal commands... stand, walk on, trot... until the verbal command is memorized. It reminds me of the poems and Bible passages I memorized as a child. We memorized to remember but also to put those words in our hearts. Junie B is learning some heart words now as am I.
Brookes tells me I am brave and I ask her why she says that. “Because you aren’t afraid to mount a horse who bucks. You are trying to learn how to ride on a horse who is learning, too.”Brave? Maybe. But I love Junie B, feel connected in some inexplicable manner to this beautiful black horse, and want to dance with her however hard it is to learn the steps.
Our first steps are the commands Stand, Walk On and Trot. I must hold the reins feeling the connection to Junie B’s mouth. I sit tall with my core strong and my butt tucked under, grip her sides with my thighs and keep my toes slightly up and in, lean back ever so slightly and keep my eyes on Junie B’s neck. I’m worn out and we haven’t even moved yet.
The command “Stand” will keep a horse still so she can be mounted, or you can move to pick something up without worrying about her taking off. “Walk On” and “Trot” help her know how fast to go. With each of these commands, I have to learn some body language myself. For “Stand”, I face her and make myself big. I am like a gorilla expanding and beating on my chest to claim being in charge. When I want her to “Walk On” or “Trot”, I urge her with my seat, voice, and leg pressure. If she doesn’t respond, I may lightly kick. If she is naughty, I may kick hard to get her moving. My hands on the reins, my balance and pressure in the saddle, my voice, my extrasensory perception are the means of communication with Junie B as we ride.
Sometimes Brookes will bring her great big horse Ranier over and we will trail ride. Junie B, like most of us, behaves much differently with company. I can catch a glimpse of the pleasure that waits for both of us after we have learned the steps to this dance.
Yesterday the horses met me at the gate to walk me down to the stable for breakfast. Dakota, the gelding, is playing the game “Who’s the Boss” and I am having to watch my back with him. When he gets too close, I face him and yell. Horses treat each other roughly until the pecking order is established so I am trying to channel stallion thoughts. That can be hard for a sixty one year old menopausal maiden. Dakota began to move in on me, crowding me a little. I stopped, prepared to back him down but here came Junie B. Ears laid back, neck stretched out low, she moved between the two of us and nipped him. He moved away and Junie B walked with me down the hill, Dakota following at a respectful distance. I am her person and she is my horse. We have each others best interests at heart... love can create a beautiful dance.
In Matthew 11, Jesus is fussing at a crowd of people. His cousin John the Baptist is in jail and has sent his disciples to question Jesus about his ministry. Jesus sent those disciples back with eyewitness accounts of all the healings that were taking place to ease John’s uncertainties. As Jesus turns to the crowd, he mocks them a little and tells them they are like children . I’ve heard that tone of voice before when my father compared me to his generation, the generation that walked five miles uphill in snow to school twice a day. I’ve heard that tone in my voice speaking to my children about the days when children knew how to behave.
Jesus says this childish generation complains “We played the flute for you and you did not dance; we wailed and you did not mourn.” Junie B and me... all of you who love the Lord... all of us sitting in the marketplace... are listening for the sound of the flute. We are on our way to being ballroom dancing stars, partners bound together by the reins of love. I will keep my ears perked up and forward today, listening for the sounds of your flutes and the pipes played by God.