Life can be hard, but I always found peace on the back of my beloved horse, RAISE YOUR DREAMS. He became an extension of me, and I was his. Many hours were spent at the barn with this special horse making my life right with my two-thousand pound hero.
Every Wednesday they pile out of the Deveruex van. They come to ride, pick tasty tomatoes organically grown, and to clean stalls of their favorite mounts. The countdown starts as soon as they leave, for stolen moments of freedom and fun at a little farm in southern New Jersey. They call themselves blessed, but it is me that receives the biggest blessings.
“Miss Jill, I want to pray!” Luke, the just-turned-seven-year-old-who-grew-one-inch, stood before me. He was part of the six-strong nuggets that lived next door to me
“Great Luke, what do you want to pray about?” I asked.
“I want to thank God, but I don’t know how to do it,” with that he tilted his head, seeking an answer.
“It is easy, just talk to God like you talk to me,” I held my hand out, a signal that we were going to pray.
He bent his beautiful head, “God, thank you for horses, Miss Jill, and Luke (a paint horse that had his same name), AMEN!”
He looked up at me, proud of himself for praying on his own.
As I walked into my home I was struck by his heart that sought Thanksgiving. When was the last time I thanked God for all that He has done for me? Thanks Luke for teaching me a lesson.
My article was published in Renaissance Magazine, July issue.
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“You have cancer,” I sat there in a paper thin hospital-green gown, staring at the doctor.
“What do I do now?” I came in because they said they saw something suspicious on my mammogram.
“Unfortunately this is a very aggressive cancer and it can only be cured through chemotherapy and surgery,” she was slightly nervous. Then she continued, “This cancer is a killer and we caught it early. You are in good hands. My assistant will go over all of the information with you. Just get dressed and she will meet you in the office across the hall,” with that she washed her hands and dismissed me.
I was signed up for chemo therapy, every third week for one year. Then I drove home as if I were observing myself from afar. There was an element of shock and disbelief, and I am certain that my chin hung on my chest. The first person I called was my husband. The second person was my prayer team, comprised of an army of believers.
The journey that I never wanted to go on was commencing and it was during this time that I learned that a battle was raging, not in my body, but in my mind………