My two younger daughters go horse riding at a local ‘boutique’ riding school. Their teacher Sue is one of the most emotionally intuitive people I have met – with a beautifully natural manner of handling both animals and children alike. She is friendly, calm, but knows when to be firm.
As a mum I sit beside the small fenced-in arena, close enough to be able to hear each instruction as well as see the facial expressions on my children’s faces. I feel like I’ve learnt more about the nature of horses by listening to these lessons than I ever did in my own horse-riding experiences as a child.
My greatest secret fear as a mum standing beside the arena, was how my children would cope if they fell. Perhaps for each of us mums there is that fear lurking somewhere deep inside, underneath the smiles and words of encouragement, will my children be alright? At times we may even be visited by images of ambulances rushing to hospital, the things we all try to hide away from ourselves as things that happen to other people, not us. In the meantime we sit quietly, calmly, full of smiles and words of encouragement.
My daughters falling off the horse for the first time was not a dramatic event. This is not a horror story at all. It’s one of the everyday moments of life that quietly teach us so much – if we are open to listening.
My nine year old daughter Emma was having trouble keeping her feet in the stirrups. Perhaps she wasn’t pushing her heels down, perhaps the stirrups were a little too long for her. As the horse trotted she began to gently slide further to the side and eventually onto the dirt floor of the arena. She sat there stunned and teary.
Her teacher Sue handled it fantastically – helping her up in a matter of fact manner, reassuring her that it happens to everyone, and planting the seed that perhaps it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. The two of them crouched side by side, looking across at the horse Meg who truly looked apologetic – sorry Emma I didn’t mean to let you fall. There was even a moment when Sue and Emma could laugh at this.
With Sue’s encouragement, Emma got back on the horse again. It was such a powerful symbol for all the ‘knock downs’ of life that lie waiting ahead of her – yet unknown. I kept myself calm, nodding with words of encouragement from the sidelines (as all mothers do) knowing that this too is the beginning of a long journey for me of watching any of my children fall off the horse in their lives and silently hoping, wishing, praying for them to have the strength and support to get up and back on the horse again – yes, back into life again.
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