I’ve Spent The Morning in Tears, but it’s a good thing. Beautiful really. And I feel like I might implode if I don’t tell you the story.
Let me start with some background. My friend Caitlin has been the driving force behind most of my horse activities for about fifteen years now. My horses have lived at her barn, and when she wanted to go somewhere she’d shoot me a text and ask if I wanted to go. This means whatever trainer Caitlin rides with is who I ride with, though with far less consistency on my end.
For a couple of years – before I had my first baby and for a little while after, we rode with Cathy (her name has been changed since I didn’t ask permission to share the story). Cathy was known for her gruff demeanor and making riders cry, but for the most part, I appreciated her straightforwardness and the challenges she gave me.
Eventually, we changed to another trainer and I haven’t seen or spoken with Cathy in probably a decade.
Last night, I was selling my books at an annual event for equine professionals. Our area is ripe with equestrians, and people poured into the winery to see their horse friends and support local businesses. Our spot was in a hallway, and all evening, people walked by, often turning to go into the other room without even seeing us. I watched a lady walk in and turn, and I realized it was my old trainer, Cathy.
“Cathy!” I called over the hum of conversation and she turned looking for the person who called her name. Her eyes landed on me and I smiled and waved her over. “I don’t know if you remember me,” I said, truly convinced that I had been such a small blip in her world that I needed to reintroduce myself. “I used to come for lessons with Caitlin sometimes.”
Cathy eyed my table, taking in all the books and then she looked me in the eye and smiled, “I actually think of you regularly. Sometimes I tell people this story, and I think about it all the time. It might embarrass you if I share it.”
The anticipation and shock of her words brought a huge smile to my face. “You have to tell me now!”
“Ok,” she said and then proceeded to set up the background of the story. “We were at this show…” My mind started spinning. I had only taken one trainer to a horse show in the last twenty years and it was her. Taking trainers to shows is the norm in our industry, but beyond my paygrade most of the time. But there had been one show when my son JJ was a baby. It was the perfect storm of money in my bank account thanks to my hard work in Mary Kay, Silas’s back not yet hurt, and a homeschool girl watching JJ in exchange for lessons so I could ride.
Cathy was already going to be there with clients, so with Caitlin’s encouragement, I sent in my entry forms. Cathy kept going with the story, “Things weren’t looking good on Friday, so when I showed up Saturday, I was a little worried about you. But Saturday morning, you looked at me and said, “I prayed over it, and it’s going to be fine.”
I laughed and said, “That does sound like something I’d say!” Inside I reeled.
I replayed that day in my mind, and to be honest, I don’t remember saying those words. What I do remember is the struggle of being a new mom and how closely I walked with the Lord in that time. I remember around that same time a very close friend saying in a mocking tone, “God sure does talk to you a lot.” (she walked away from our friendship soon after).
I remember Cathy looking at me that morning at the show like she thought my riding that day was a big mistake. She offered to ride instead (it’s normal for trainers to ride client’s horses for the first outing of a show), and I declined. Silas and I went into the ring and jumped a solid course (although I almost fell off at the very end when we landed the final jump and Silas went left when I thought we’d go right). The amount of shows I’ve ridden in since then isn’t nearly as many as I hoped or expected, and occasionally I pull up the videos of that day and reminisce.
Cathy went on to share that she’s spent many thousands of dollars on sports psychology coaching, but at the end of the day, she learned everything she needed from that moment with me. I prayed, I trusted, and while it may not have brought home a blue, it was a great round. The event obviously impacted her.
Last night, I’m not sure I sold enough to pay the wholesale cost of the books and the table fee, so it’s tempting to say the evening wasn’t “great.” But, that moment with Cathy shook me. After praying and crying a lot, I think I understand why.
For most of my adult life, I have felt like I am doing my best, and it’s never quite enough. Maybe you can relate.
My house is never quite picked up enough.
My business is never bringing in quite enough.
I never ride my horse consistently enough.
I’m never quite present enough with my kids.
I don’t communicate enough with my spouse.
My books aren’t selling enough
And don’t get me started on tax prep and bookkeeping.
The list can go on and on, but I’d rather not spiral.
Instead, I focus on this truth. HE IS ENOUGH.
Last night, God gave me the gift of a glimpse of what He can do with my “not enough.” He let me see one of the ripples in the pond from simple truth I likely spoke with pink cheeks and a racing heart over a decade ago. Truth Cathy still carries with her.
What a gift. What a relief. What hope. What rest.
We were never meant to be enough, because He is.
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