The Power of Wonder in a Hurting World

Hi Friends,

This week my heart is broken with the tragedy at Uvalde this week. The pictures of the young victims keep popping up on Facebook. They look so similar to the kids I work with at Wonder Wood Ranch. Then I see a picture of the shooter. He looks like the kids I work with too. So. Much. Pain. So much brokenness and ugliness and awfulness. Sometimes it seems that evil always wins. 

But then again, maybe not always.

As I sit and look at the faces, and look away because I cannot bear to look any longer, I remind myself that evil may have its way for a day, but God's love is stronger. Hope is stronger. Wonder is stronger. And every day that I bring a little more love, a little more hope, a little more wonder to a hurting world is a day that evil does not win after all.

It works kind of like this . . .

Working with Youth in Juvenile Hall

Wonder Changes the World

He came from a world so different from my own. Gangs, drugs, violence. Fear. Fear he tried to strangle with a tough-guy exterior and tattoos that weren’t quite covered by the long sleeves of his hoodie. 

He was fifteen years old.

Too young to spend every day, every minute looking over his shoulder, waiting to be jumped, or shot, or knifed. Too young to need the rough gang persona to survive.

He stepped out of the city’s car with three other kids and shuffled, pants hanging low, down the path to our barn. 

The city’s street team worker stepped beside me. “Juan almost didn’t come.”

“I’m glad he did.”

She nodded. Once a month she brought gang-impacted youth to our Wonder Wood Ranch to ride horses, do archery, and get out of the gang environment for a few hours. 

Typically, I could see the difference in them the moment they stepped from the car. Their shoulders relaxed, they stopped fidgeting, they forgot, for a time, they had to be hyper-vigilant to get by. 

But Juan’s shoulders stayed rigid. 

I followed behind the boys, picking up my pace until I passed them. Then, I motioned toward the hay. “Sit. Let’s get started.”

They sat, Juan on the edge of a bale, his eyes not meeting mine.

I reviewed horse safety, told them all the fun things we would do, asked if anyone had ridden a horse before (no one had), and still Juan stared at the ground, his features hard, his mouth pressed into a line.

After my talk, we ate some hot wings, visited the treehouse, and then it was time for riding. I saddled my husband’s horse, Smokey, grabbed the lead rope, and led him to the mounting block. My other volunteers did the same with three other horses.

Juan put on a helmet and walked up to Smokey. 

I explained how to mount, how to sit up straight, how to relax his hips and let his body move with the horse’s gait. 

Then Juan stepped up the mounting block, put his left foot in the stirrup, and swung his right leg around the horse. His face softened. “I’ve never been on a horse before.”

I smiled.

“This is my first time on a horse.”

I grinned.

“I’ve never ridden a horse. This is my first time.”

I tried not to chuckle as I led Smokey forward on the path through the woods around our property.

After three seconds, Juan spoke again, his voice faster now, a little more breathless. “This is my first time riding on a horse. I’ve never ridden. I’ve never been on a horse. This is my first time.” 

I glanced back to see him sitting tall, chin up, face aglow with delight. And there, before my eyes, a hardened gang-impacted kid transformed from a tough-guy youth into an excited little boy. A little boy who kept talking. “This is my first time on a horse …”

That’s the power of God’s wonder in our lives. That’s the power of finding the beauty that God places around us, and letting ourselves be caught up and carried by it. By him. 

God leaves none of us, not even a kid whose life is characterized by fear and violence, without glimpses of his glory. He leaves none of us without hope. And hope, glory, is found in these moments of wonder. 

In Exodus 15:11 (NIV), Miriam sings, “Who among the gods is like you, Lord? Who is like you—majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders?” And in Genesis 28:17 (NIV) Jacob declares, after seeing the stairway to heaven, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven.”

God gives us glimpses of that stairway, that gate, in our own lives, when we need it most. When we’re afraid, when we’re trying to act tough, when we think that there’s no way out and no other life available to us but one of hurt and harm. That’s when God uses wonder to break down the barriers in us so that we can see the beauty around us, and the beauty of his work in our lives. 

After Juan rode Smokey, he was a different kid for the rest of our time together. He smiled, he laughed, he ate s’mores and looked me in the eye. And he found strength to face his life and make better choices because, on the back of a horse, he could see new hope for the first time in a long time. Maybe for the first time ever.

Through God’s wonder, we, too, can see anew.

Trusting God in Life's Ups and Downs

Hi Friends,

Valentine (our little mare who's creeping up on 40!!!), has been having a rough week or two. She found the love of her life (Danny, a 5-year-old, refused to come into her pen at night one night and got beat up by someone in the pasture (she's too old for that!), stopped eating, had her yearly vaccinations, had to go off her Cushings meds to help her appetite, started eating again, got her feet trimmed, and now has her new boyfriend in the stall next to her as her owies heal up. Lots of ups and downs for her! And that reminded me of a story of her and Jayna when they were both younger. Here's their story:

(Valentine finally eating her food)

Living Life’s Ups and Downs

            I held my breath as my five-year-old trotted her horse, Valentine, toward the little goat tied in the middle of the arena.  Valentine hesitated.  Jayna straightened her shoulders and urged the horse on.  

            A few seconds more, then, she stopped, jumped off, and raced toward the goat.  The goat skittered left.  Jayna grabbed for the ribbon on its tail.  The goat scampered right.  She plunged after it and raised her fist to show a bright red ribbon clutched in her fingers.  A moment later, she turned, ran to a barrel twenty feet away, and slapped the ribbon on top.  

            The crowd erupted in cheers.  The judge grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.  I let out my breath.

            She walked Valentine out of the arena and threw herself into my arms.  “Did you see, Mom?  We did great!”

            I grabbed the reins and gave Jayna a huge hug.  “Of course I did.  And Dad got pictures too.”

            “What’s next?”

            “Cattle sorting.  You ready?”  That was an event she’d also never done before.

            She gave me a nervous nod.  “Okay.” 

            Twenty minutes later, I was holding my breath again as Jayna trotted her horse down the middle of the arena.  Only this time, six cows stood at the far end instead of one little goat.  

            Jayna moved into the midst of them.  She reined Valentine around, then back, trying to separate one cow from the others.  At first, it seemed to be working.  A black cow ambled off to the left.  I let out my breath again.  Maybe she could do it.

            But then, circumstances changed.  The black cow darted back into the herd.  Valentine spun toward the gate.  Then, the horse took off.  At three strides she started to hop.  At four, she bucked.   Once.  Twice.  And Jayna flew off into the dirt.  

            I ran into the arena and scooped her up.  Sandy mud mixed with her tears as she spat out a mouthful of arena dirt.  

            “Th-that didn’t go very well,” she wailed.

            I sighed and brushed a clump of mud from her helmet.  “No, it didn’t.  Are you okay?”

            She nodded.

            “Come on, let’s go get Valentine and get you cleaned up.”

            She sniffed and rubbed her hand over her nose as we made our way toward the gate where Valentine was standing.

            In the days that followed, I thought about our time at the horse show and realized that life is lot like the show.  It’s a mixed experience.  Things go well.  Things go badly.  You succeed, you fail.  You win, then you lose.  One minute the crowds are clapping.  The next, they’re gasping as you take a mouthful of dirt.  

            I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  Jesus knew all about life’s ups and downs.  One day he was riding into Jerusalem as the people cheered, waved palm branches, and cried out “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Mark 11:9, NIV).  A few days later, he was standing bloody and bruised before the crowd again, and this time they shouted, “Crucify Him!” (Mark 15:13, NIV).  One day he was eating a Passover feast with his friends (Mark 14), the next, he was hanging on a cross to die (Mark 15).  One day he was in the tomb.  Three days later, resurrection.

            Up, down, up, down.  Life is like that.  So, how do I live through all life’s ups and downs?  How did Jesus live?

            I think Jesus, and Jayna, had it right.  Jayna walked through the gate, faced the next event, and trotted down the center of the arena toward whatever goats or cows awaited her.  Jesus walked into this life, faced the will of God, and strode resolutely toward whatever His Father asked.  Both faced life’s ups and downs with trust and obedience rather than fear and what if’s.  Both rejoiced and wept and got a mouthful of dirt.  But they didn’t give up, they didn’t turn away.  And because of that, Jesus rose again.  And Jayna rode again.

            That’s what God asks of me too, that I would continue forward in His will, that I would face every up and down by trusting him and walking forward in obedience.  And even if my face hits the dirt, I know God will be there to pick me up and help me wash the mud out of my mouth.  He will help me face the next event, so that I, too, can rise and ride again.