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The Possible Death of a Dream


Sounds morbid and dark.  It is.  My heart just might break.  But I might just hold on to this dream of mine!  I'm begging God to allow me to have it!

I grew up in the middle of nowhere South Dakota where the rolling prairie was my playground.   I was wild and free and life was all about what you made it.  The giant open skies and hours of riding without a soul in sight was an incubator for dreams.

I dreamt large!  A ranch for kids to ride, work and learn and a place for families to heal.  I had the place all picked out.  

My kids would grow up homesteading like my family had done for generations.

When we moved to Nebraska, my boys were angry!  We left a big house, big yard and of course the barn and working with Dad behind.  Culturally, we felt as if we had moved to another country.

Then "old" flashy (tall black mare) somehow came up pregnant on the ranch.  My Mom had secured a paint stud to put in with her because one of her grandsons had been praying and dreaming of a paint pony.  As what can happen when kids pray, a paint filly was born.  Frosty.

Visits and tears happened until she came to live in Nebraska with us. The boys lived at the barn.  Loving her and having horse apple wars and building forts.  God  provided the dream I had for them.

One day I was counseling a couple at the church when the boys ran screaming in to say that Frosty had a baby.  "No Way!"  I can honestly say that I didn't believe them.

There she was.  A beautiful little sorrel, "Meja."  I called to the ranch quickly to find out who might have been her Dad.   Meja was tiny and the boys spent every waking minute of the day with her.  She would lay her head on my youngest son's lap.

So we trained the horses and the kids!  We were living the dream!  They grew and broke horses and they birthed their own dreams.  Frosty was bred to a son of Play Gun and a beautiful blue roan was born.

The boys grew into men and other children have added the girls to their dreams.

Logically, I need to let them go before my youngest graduates.

Are dreams logical?



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