On Wild Horses, Faith & Patience

"Every interaction matters."

Frustrated and impatient, I stood leaning against the round pen, staring out at the evening clouds with a cool Colorado breeze blowing. It’s been a very hot July this year and the relief from the temperature was a gift.

This horse—I call him my graduation mustang—has been the most stubborn, hot-blooded, piece of iron I’ve had to deal with yet. The Bureau of Land Management told me he was six. When we had to tranquilize him to have his feet trimmed, the veterinarian aged him at about ten years old.

Ten years—that’s a long time for a mustang to learn self-defense, self-reliance, and fierce independence. I didn’t realize how fortunate I was to start with Carbon, my first mustang who I had haltered in a mere six days after coming home. Denali, the second, took two months. But this fella’ has taken almost a year with me and nearly six months with my younger brother who had him first. Sure, we could throw a rope around him and do this the old cowboy way—but that’s not the point—and at 53, I’m not inclined to pretend to be into “bustin’ broncs”. In our non-profit ministry at Mountains Move, its about building relationships with veterans and every one of these beautiful animals has taught me something about spiritual analogies.

Huron, named after a local 14,000 foot mountain here in Central Colorado, has proven to be a mountain in his own right. Stubborn and fearful, he snorts at me in anger and resists every attempt at approaching him. It’s hard to convince him that I only want the best for him. I want to see him out of this prison, up in high Alpine meadows, grazing with the eight other beautiful horses we have nearby.

But his fear keeps him trapped, held captive by his own mistrust.

Of course, I have long one-sided conversations with him. I often ask him, “How many times are you going to keep running circles in this roundpen?” He never answers, except in angry snorts and foot stomps…which I guess is an answer in horse language.

Mustangs are perfectly built for us here in Colorado. Stocky, sure-footed, and undaunted by climbs or difficulty, they have a spirit that matches their calling here at Mountains Move. In his case, that independent spirit gets in the way.

If only Huron knew what I know. If only he knew what gifts I have for him, what plans and dreams I have for him…to set him free and see him finding his purpose.

I need him. I have some pretty large veterans who struggle at these altitudes where the air is thin. They often come to us with mobility issues and this magnificent mustang could deliver them to the most amazing places and graze in untouched fields while these men and women weep and heal from the wounds of war.

But he has yet to learn about the adventure just outside of those six foot fences…and his mistrust has kept him blinded and locked in a prison of his own making.

I stood there and thought about the hours, weeks, and months it has taken to win his trust. I thought about the number of times I’ve made dusty circles myself in that 40’ space and wondered if it was even worth it.

And then God spoke. “Every interaction matters.”

As I sat there hopeless, hearing these words, a wave of memories and thoughts washed over me. I thought about the conversations I’d had with Isaac my eight year old son, about fear and how it keeps the horse trapped in this roundpen. I thought about the hard lessons I’d learned with Carbon, the mustang you see in the picture above, where I asked for too much too soon. Carbon, a reliable trail horse now, is running free with the herd, enjoying a horse’s best life but he too was once a captive like Huron. I thought about the number of times I’ve seen myself in that stubborn animal. I’ve come to accept that training these horses is more often a training opportunity for me.

Sometimes, it is a grueling marathon with veterans who have attempted suicide, are on multiple sleeping aids, antidepressants, and are hopelessly addicted to alcohol or drugs. It takes a deliberate, daily effort to reach them through the many layers of defenses and scar tissue they’ve built up. But I’ve learned, with patient small steps, prayer, and giving them a greater hope, that they WILL stop turning circles. They WILL learn to trust the hand that is extended to them by their Creator—the one who has greater plans for them than they could ever imagine.

But every interaction matters when you’re a wild animal that has only learned to trust himself. That’s the lesson that we can all learn when dealing with veterans and wild mustangs. Sometimes we rush the process and what we think is help, is actually triggering fear, mistrust, and a fight-or-flight instinct. When that happens, they’ll run or reset to the beginning nearly everytime. These are the instances where love, faith, and patience ARE the actual solutions.

EVERY INTERACTION MATTERS.

After hearing those whispered words, I went back to the start with Huron. I turned away and slowly backed into his circle. After a patient hour of closing the distance between us, I could feel his energy and fully expected to get kicked. When I got to within an arms length without him running, he would turn his head nervously in my direction. And for the first time, I could tell he was fighting the instinct that kept him alive on the plains in Utah. I slowly closed even more distance with an extended hand and to my surprise, he touched it with his muzzle. Three repeated touches of this precious interaction was a victory for the day—and I walked away.

Nearly a year and a half to touch a ten year old wild horse. How many times have we given up on veterans after one conversation? It’s a game of faith and patience—a long game—where defeat today is not defeat. Similar to Huron, the openings and the small displays of trust will come….and we can finally start making some progress. You have to take the small wins and remember the importance of every interaction, every conversation, every cup of coffee.

Every interaction matters. Even the ones we have with the One who created us.

Get out there and thank a veteran. But more importantly, listen to their story, earn their trust, and help them get out of that round pen.

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