One Real Story From Life
Our move to Kansas didn’t just change our address; it disrupted some of the things our kids loved most. For our oldest daughter, one of those things was horseback riding.
She has loved horses since she was four years old. Back in North Carolina, she had a great setup. She rode at the same place for six years, helped out around the barn, loved her instructor, and had grown attached to a few favorite horses. Riding wasn’t just an activity; it was one of the places she felt most herself.
When we arrived in Kansas, that rhythm was gone. She and my wife started calling around, looking for barns and lesson programs. Again and again, they ran into the same roadblocks: the discipline she loves wasn’t being offered, or the places that did offer it never called back. It would have been easy to take the silence as a sign to give up.
Instead, she stayed ready.
Even without a place to ride, she kept caring for her saddle as if she had a lesson coming up. Her riding bag stayed packed and waiting, ready to go if the opportunity came tomorrow. On the outside, nothing looked different. On the inside, she was still believing that this part of her story wasn’t finished.
One day, she and my wife called a particular stable—not once, but several times. Finally, someone answered. When they asked about lessons in her discipline, the owner said something that stopped them in their tracks: “You have really great timing, because I never have openings.”
That conversation opened the door they’d been looking for. They scheduled an evaluation with the owner, drove out, and spent time talking through expectations, safety, and style.
This weekend is her first actual ride.
Watching her excitement leading up to it has been a gift. She never stopped caring for what mattered to her. She never fully put away the dream. My wife and I have both been deeply impressed by her steady believing, persistent reaching out, and quiet preparation while she waited.
One Key Principle From God’s Word
Her story has been a living reminder to me of what vision looks like in everyday life. Vision isn’t just a big idea on a whiteboard; it’s a way of seeing what could be, even when you can’t see it yet.
Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.” Vision doesn’t ignore reality. It looks at the unanswered calls, the delays, and the silence and still asks, “What could this become?”
Our daughter couldn’t see a riding arena, a trainer, or a horse with her name on the schedule. But she could see a future where she was riding again, so she lived as if that future was possible. She held on to vision through small acts of faithfulness—oiling a saddle, keeping a bag packed, continuing to search, making one more phone call, and showing up for an evaluation instead of assuming it wouldn’t work.
In that way, her approach to riding mirrored the kind of vision God invites us into. We may not control timing or opportunities, but we do choose whether we keep tending what He’s put in our hearts or quietly let it die.
A Few Honest Reflections and One Simple Step
As I’ve watched this chapter unfold, a few reflections stand out:
- Vision often looks ordinary while you’re waiting. On the outside, a cared‑for saddle and a packed riding bag don’t look impressive. But they told the truth about what our daughter still believed was possible.
- Preparation is a form of believing. She didn’t just hope she’d ride again; she prepared as if she would. That posture—staying ready and making one more call—meant that when a “never have openings” opportunity appeared, she was able to move toward it.
- God can line up timing we could never arrange on our own. The barn owner’s words—“You have really great timing, because I never have openings”—were a reminder that God sees the whole picture, even when all we see is a long season of waiting.
To build hearts, homes, and leaders right where you are this week, try this simple step:
Pick one area where you’ve quietly set your “saddle” aside—and do one small thing to pick it back up.
Maybe it’s a dream, a calling, a skill, or a way of serving that got pushed to the side during a busy or difficult season. Instead of deciding it’s over, do one tangible thing that says, “I’m still open to what this could become.” Clean up the tools, refresh the training, reach out to someone who lives in that world, or simply try again where you stopped before.
You may not see the whole path yet. But like our daughter, you might find that steady, quiet preparation and a willingness to keep looking put you in the right place at the right time when the door finally opens.
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