God Sucks?

Sometimes life throws things at us that we aren't even close to being ready for. They're seemingly out of the blue, or left field, or nowhere... Or out of wherever life's temptations, trials and tribulations come from.



Mellow Yellow was two years old. He could turn around pretty good, he loved to stop and he was gentle, gentle, gentle. You could already heel steers on him out of the box. And head steers and log them off while pen roping. This all sounds like alot for a two-year-old - It is. He was smart. He learned everything the first time and didn't forget much of anything. He was just easy. He was laid back. He was Mellow. He died August 27, 2009.



This is Iceman. His real name is Pay Days Mr Quincy. He was a five year old stallion that was just getting finished up as a calf roping horse. He was solid. He was a statue in the box, ran to the hole every trip and man he could really stop. He stopped so smooth that sometimes you couldn't even tell if he was stopping yet... and then he got to the end of his stop and you knew it, quick. He was just taking the chance to show off a little bit until it was time to bring everything to a screeching halt. He won third in the Open Calf Roping at the very first show he was ever entered. In his second show, he won it. He died September 4, 2009.

Barely one week apart the only two stallions in training here were gone. And horses here don't get to continue being stallions unless they're just a little bit different than most nice horses. These guys were special. Their temperament, appearance, and ability set them apart. So what the hell is the deal?

Sometime between the fourth and fifth of September, so just a day or two ago, Barbie opened her chest up while turned out. I've walked the pasture three times and can't find the place where it happened. It should be pretty obvious since her injury is extensive. Luckily, the vet got her sown up very well and she should be just fine. But that's not what concerns me. What concerns me is Who's next?.

Fr. Ed delivered a message a while back that reminded us that we need to seek a more personal relationship with Our Lord Jesus Christ. During this message he talked about being angry with Him. Anger towards God is not condemnable, it's completely normal behavior for any healthy relationship he said.

Well, then right now I'm pretty damn normal. I was furious. Anger consumed me. The expertise behind the recommendations for the feed we chose, the resources my family utilized to keep these horses in training, the time I spent with these horses everyday, the majesty that these animals project and respect that they deserve... meant nothing. The injured filly will hopefully be back in action soon, but two - in one week - left us and will never be seen again. What the hell kind of purpose, meaning, lessons, etc. can you garner from that?

I'll admit it. I wanted to title this post "God Sucks!" rather than God Sucks?, but you know what, God is the only pure thing we can find. It's not our job to understand. I'll repeat that, because I'm still working to wrap my head around it. It's not our job to understand.

He was impressive to say the least. He was unlike any other. He was steady, always. His demeanor never ceased to amaze me, regardless of others you put around him. And now he's dead. This is no longer about horses. It's Christ. God lost his only son. Does that mean God sucks? How could it? I can not even start to imagine that kind of pain. Surely if it weren't necessary, it would not have happened. I am beginning to appreciate the fact that God does not create situations so much as He utilizes those situations. His purpose requires certain things that we will never understand, but we aren't expected to.

We were created in God's image. God is a worker. We are created to be active. And God blessed each and every one of us with passions and talents for certain things in order to guide us in choosing what it is that will be blessed by our actions. So we are expected to persevere. To Love. To Work. To Connect. To Continue.

Life is rarely warm and fuzzy. And sometimes it hurts... alot, and is utterly unexplainable. But that simply means that sometimes life's circumstances suck. God does not. Rest peacefully knowing that it's OK to be angry with Him. Then, take a deep breath and instead of asking Why? ask What's Next?.

Personal Integrity and it's relation to rural living

Play First - if you have trouble, email me - jamesobrien@ranchforeman.com
[audio:http://www.spiritualhorseman.com/audio/louis-about-sis.mp3]

Sis
1968 - 2009
Kid Horse - Cow Horse - Friend


Sis wasn't Tonni's (my wife) first horse, but she was that one special horse in her life. Sis started out in the wilds of New Mexico on an Indian Reservation and came into Tonni's life when she was nine. She taught her more than she cares to recount about horses, horsemanship, rodeo, competition, etc. The second line in this post is not a typo. She was 41 years old when she died Monday. I've been in the horse world all of my life and I've never heard of a horse living such a long time.

What always makes me smile, though, is how animals like this teach us more than just the standard animal-husbandry-feed-and-medicine type of stuff. They move people. If you haven't had a special animal in your life get one. If that one craps in the bed, well, get rid of it and give it another try. ;)

Too many people in our society these days miss out on the character building lessons that the care, love and loss of animals teaches us. Listen to the voice of the man in the recording at the top of this post. It's Tonni's Dad. Sis was at his place when she died. That man has seen many animals die and you can still hear the emotion in his voice when he talks about this one. That emotion is for Sis, it's for Tonni, it's even for Louis. I'm sure this brought memories of one of those special animals he had in his life. They impact so many parts of our lives.

And here's what Tonni's best friend Becca Chalk Burns had to say:

---

Oh Tonni, I wish I had the words. A lifetime with our best friends is never enough. I know with all my heart that God takes and keeps those who watch over our hearts. Without a doubt he's got those three in his herd. As for ever finding another, well that's an impossible find. You & I both know there's only one Sis & Poncho. We didn't find them - they found us. It was out of our love for them that we found ourselves & in that defined our character & most of all our hearts. No other horse can help mold you as Sis did. God knew we needed them just as much as they needed us. So no, there will never be another little sister. She's got your heart like no other. There are others out there they may come close to stealing your heart but only one will hold it ... love you always - Chalka

---

If you choose to be around animals, you may be lucky enough to get one of those special ones in your life. A dog, a cat, a horse, cow, whatever... a giraffe or zebra. Doesn't matter.

What matters is that those who grow up with animals come to understand what responsibility really means at a very young age. And loss. They may get the old "Buster-ran-away" speech when they're two or so, but then comes the death speech at a very young age. The beautiful part is that they also become entwined in God's creation the way God intended - Harmoniously.

Sometimes, amidst the music of life, comes the verse that touches our hearts in ways words can not explain. And we love.

Just because we know that every song ends doesn't mean that it wasn't worth the listen.

Colt Killin'

Russ was young. High school aged anyway. But for Russ, that's old. Hell he'd been riding horses all of his life. And he thought it was a pretty tough one, too. He was born into Rusty Carroll's training operation and those of you who know Rusty know that Russ may have been on to something. If there was one thing Mr. Carroll had, it was a work ethic. And if there was one thing Mr. Carroll wouldn't tolerate, it was someone without one.

"You tired of riding that colt son?" Rusty half asked and half jabbed.

"Yes, " came Russ's Napoleon Dynomite-like reply. Half mad, half bewildered with total frustration mixed in.

"Then make a horse out of him then, " came Rusty's reply.

And so it is in life. To have a nice riding green horse, you have to get rid of the colt that's within. Then, to have a finished horse, you have to "kill" that green horse as well. Only then can that trained horse's new life begin. By the way, if you know me, you know how I train horses and you know that this is strictly metaphorically speaking. I can't stand trainers who spend every day beating on the animals entrusted to them. It seems, the less you know, the more brutal you are.

Anyway, there has been much reflection on death and rising lately. It's that time of year. Easter. The season of the Resurrection. My wife and I attend Faith Formation every other Monday and last night covered these same topics. It reminded me of the story that was shared above.

Basically, we have to let Our Lord shape us. And it's not always warm fuzzies. In fact, it's rarely warm fuzzies. You have to pay attention throughout the mess that is life; you never know what He is preparing you for. You have to keep what you learned and leave the actual experience behind; you can't exist in the past, but you must learn from it.

And you have to die; new life with all of it's experiences and mysteries will never come unless you let go of what should be dead.

Remember, bad things will happen.

And you will have no choice in the matter.

The only choice you have is to accept them, or stay hung up on it. Rebirth or squalor.

Solemn Thursday

Two eighteen wheelers are neck and neck, an oversized load dragging the blades to one of T. Boone Pickens wind energy mills, mobile home after mobile home, even a honda civic with a brush guard . . . all going at least 85 mph. West Texas traffic is a little different than any where else in the state. It's incessant.

But, just north east of exit 400 time stood still for a generous gathering of quiet country folk dressed in black. Some were overwhelmed by their loss, some just reminded of what's in store for them, but all of them struck by the hope they have in Christ. After all, it's only a matter of time.

It was a day to remember Marvin F. Shurley. Pastor Lewis Allen, of Sonora, delivered a short graveside remembrance since we had all just come from the service in town. It was difficult to hear as car, truck and motorcycle after car, truck and motorcycle kept barreling down I-10 topping 90 mph. But then we bowed our heads for the final prayer.

Traffic stopped. It was awe inspiring to say the least. As Pastor Lewis spoke for all of us as we lifted our friend to Our Lord, there wasn't a car in sight. Silence. Then a breeze drifted through the gravestones and cowboy hats to rattle the leaves as Lewis got things wrapped up for ol' Marvin. And just as he did wrap it up in Our Lord's precious name, so did the silence wrap up and roaring highway traffic commence.

No one else spoke of it, but surely there were more who noticed. It was God's moment of silence. And rightly so. Mr. Shurley was a unique man. Good. Diligent. Determined. Entrepreneurial and Kind. Read the obituary if you'd like to know more about Marvin.

Unfortunately, you won't get the whole story. I'm not sure it could be told. As I stood and listened to Louis Balas tell Pastor Allen how well he did the service and that Marvin would have appreciated it, I think Pastor Allen said it best.

"Well, I am certainly honored to have the respect of someone like Marvin, " he said.

I wish I had the benefit of knowing him better, but there are two things I'll never forget. His two-door Cadillac and an evening I spent with him on a back porch in Fredericksburg, Texas. I had known him as a rancher and pioneer in the meat goat industry until that night. After that I thought, hell he's a philosopher and politician wrangler. We discussed everything from the types of people it takes to stick with ranching horses, cattle, goats, sheep or whatever all the way to motivating politicians in Washington, D.C. to take actions that benefit the agricultural industry here in Texas that Marvin evidently felt responsible for.

Many of us that are involved in ag owe Mr. Shurley a thank you and don't even know it. But don't worry, he wouldn't hold it against you. He lead a rough life. Very rough. Right until its end. And you'd be hard pressed to catch him without a smile on his face and one hellofa conversation in his mind.

Thanks for turning down the volume today, Lord so we could have a chance to say goodbye.

Usually I head to the ranch on Thursdays. Here are some of those stories:

• Cowboy Consistancy in South Texas - Part 1


• Working Cattle and Riding Colts: Thursday Reality Check


• Calf Roping - Rough Trail Drives - And Family

Is the third time really a charm?

Update:The vet report came back in on the horse. He had a twisted gut. For those of who don't know horses all that well, a twisted gut is just what it says it is. However, it's referred to as a REALLY bad colic. Colics (basically a bad belly ache for a horse) come in different flavors: compaction, sand and twisted gut. Twisted guts are instantly serious and usually result in death. Unfortunately, the little paint horse was no exception.

Original Post
This weekend was great. And then Sunday rolled around. There are plenty of details in this story that I'm going to leave out. I don't want to dwell on any of it and it doesn't help convey the message to get distracted by tangents.

We received a call from the man who was taking care of the horses. I had a paint two-year old gelding down in my round pen. Dead. I hadn't even gotten the chance to ride him yet. He was a new arrival. And now he's dead. So I scratched team roping plans for that afternoon, loaded my calf horse, colt, and stud and headed north.

On the way out, I had to run a check by my grandfather's house for the ranch horse I sold for him in San Antonio. I was leaving a message for the owner of the horse that had died while heading over to John Morgan's house when the black and tan coon dog gyp of my Dad's fell under the trailer and got run over. She was running beside the truck playing with Gus and Lola in the back of my truck I guess and fell. Anyway, she's dead.

I finally get back home and get the dead horse situation resolved. So I head out to feed the roping cattle and call it a day. A long and crappy day. What do I find? A dead roping calf. Seriously!?!? What the heck is going on man!?

A young horse, coon dog and a roping calf all goners. So I figured I could either write a country song and pop open a cold one, or get into scripture and post it here on the Spiritual Horseman. I decided on a hybrid. A cold one and scripture. Hey, I'm Catholic... and Irish. That's just the way it's going to be.

You might know there would be plenty of scripture covering loss and death in the bible. Yes, He gives and He takes away. Yes, He is a refuge for the oppressed. And so on, And so on. But this one caught my attention:

Isaiah 54:10
"Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the LORD, who has compassion on you.

This isn't talking about how we should handle loss and death and frustration. This addresses how He handles it when, oh let's say that hypothetically ;) you have three animals die in one freakin' day and you fly off the handle a little bit. Even though we forget Him, even though we neglect Him, even if we sometimes resent Him. . . He still loves us. His promise to us will never be broken.

That's just straight up living by example. If we could only be half as strong. He doesn't tell us how to handle loss. He just handles it and all we have to do is follow His lead. Who are you following right now?