7 Loaves

Life is a lesson…a continual lesson. A journey, for sure. The following was a “heads-up” to always be alert, because even the most seemingly mundane happenings can be part of a bigger picture…

Our group was large. Bruce, myself, and a few others scouted out the empty picnic benches at the local BBQ joint. I had nothing in hand to save our seats, but we figured there would be plenty of room to sit with the group when we returned with our food.

The busy order-line slowly meandered to the front, and we made our way to the counter.

You know when you meet someone and there’s some kind of connection? You’re not quite sure what it is, but there’s something. Our server looked us right in the eyes with interest, like he knew us. Though he didn’t. Yet a curious connection existed.

He took our order and then asked, “Would you like any bread?”
We thought for a moment.
“I’ll take a couple of slices,” I said.
“How about 7 loaves?” he smiled, waving a whole loaf of Wonder.
7 loaves?
OK, obviously, this guy was a jokester.
“6 1/2,” Bruce quipped back.
We all laughed, and then our server grabbed a stack of about 6 or 7 slices and held it up like he was offering us a prize at the fair. “How about this much?”
“Nah, I don’t want any bread,” Bruce grinned.
“Oh no, no. I just want a couple slices,” I chuckled.
He gave us an odd look.
 
Why would it be weird to him that we didn’t want a bunch of bread?

The strangeness continued.

We ordered drinks from the fountain machine, and he handed us the cups. He then told us, rather intently, about the water cups over by the fountain machine.
 
But we didn’t ask for any water. Oh well. Whatever.

We headed toward the outdoor tables with our meal. But every table we’d scouted out earlier was filled to the hilt with our group. There was no place to sit with them. How did all these people get their food and get out here before we did? Probably because we were goofin’ around with the bread-and-water-guy.

We found a table way over in “Siberia” away from everyone, feeling disconnected and disappointed.

We sat down, prayed over our food, and prepared to eat. I glanced up and saw someone else from our group, Larry (for honor, his name has been changed), who just arrived. I waved at him. He wandered over and stood by our table.

“Why aren’t you sitting with everybody?” he asked.
“No room, so we sat over here,” Bruce replied.
My mouth was full of brisket sandwich so I just nodded.
“Maybe we can see if this place has any chairs to pull up to one of the tables?” Larry suggested.
“No, it’s OK,” Bruce said. “We’ll stay here.”
Larry shrugged. We could tell that he really wanted to help us join the rest of the group.

But we soon realized that God had other ideas.

We invited Larry to join us. He hesitated, clearly not wanting to intrude in our space (Larry is kind of a timid guy). But he finally took a seat.

We chatted for a bit, and I noticed he never made a move to go get something to eat. And I started getting the sense that he couldn’t afford it. (Bruce told me later that he noticed the same thing and was going to give him the $20 in his wallet, but the Holy Spirit stopped him. Probably because of honor…God is not into embarrassing people).

I surveyed the brisket left over from my sandwich-making. “You’re more than welcome to these two pieces of brisket, Larry,” I said. “I can’t possibly eat all this.” Even as I said it, the “all this” sounded like a whole lot more than what was there. I again eyed the two measly pieces of meat on the wax sheet, almost embarrassed to offer him so little. I’d already chowed down on my sandwich and figured it would be kind of gross to offer him any of that.

He gratefully accepted the two pieces of brisket. So, I offered him the rest of my onions and pickles, and part of my buttered New Potatoes. I became aware that he was very sensitive of taking all my food, so I held back a couple pieces of potato.

Then Larry started to cough. He’d say a few words and then cough again. The coughing became more intense.
“I think I need some water,” he coughed.
Water?
Well, guess what? We knew right where that was!
“I’ll get you some,” I jumped up and headed for the fountain drink machine.
I handed Larry the water and a fork for his brisket.

God had Larry covered.

As we all talked it became clear that by divine intervention, we sat in “Siberia.” We weren’t supposed to sit anywhere but here.

My eyes drifted to Larry’s food piled on the wax sheet.

Whoa…what? I did a double-take.

I tried not to stare at the mound of meat. The mound. He had shredded the brisket with his fork, but there was no way those two puny pieces of meat could have made that pile. He had plenty to eat now!

We finished up lunch, prayed together about some struggles he was dealing with, and headed for “the streets” with the group to pray for people (that’s a story in itself and coming soon!)

On the drive home, Bruce and I discussed the events of the day, including the ‘meat mound.’
“I thought my eyes were playing tricks too when I saw that heap of meat!” he laughed. “And, as you made your brisket sandwich, I wished I’d have taken the bread that guy offered so I could make a sandwich too.”

Well, had we accepted the extra bread, there would have been plenty for everyone…with leftovers.

The next day when Bruce was reading his Bible, he was led to Mark 8:5…about the 7 loaves and two fish. Jesus took what was offered and multiplied it to provide what was needed. It also occurred to me later that I gave Larry two pieces of meat. I also pondered this: We had a “connection” with the counter-guy. Did the Lord prompt him to offer us that bread? Was that the reason he gave us a “funny” look when we refused it?

I’m sure whoever reads this will glean their own lesson. But for us? Our lesson was to graciously accept what someone wants to give. It may not necessarily be for our own need, but it could very well be for someone else God will put in our path who needs that “gift.”

“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled—https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

 

"Kill 'er with Kindness"

I came across the following story in my files that I’d posted on Facebook a few years back. As I read it again, I decided to post it on my blog :) ...

It wasn’t the opportunity I expected, nor honestly wanted.

As I sipped my coffee one morning enjoying the mountain views, I prayed, “Lord, I pray for opportunities today. And help me to see them when they come.” Satisfied with my request, I picked up my Bible and read for a bit.

Later, Bruce and I peacefully moved through our morning with horse chores, breakfast, and what-not. Suddenly the sound of a truck roared across the gravel road next to us. That’s a little close, we thought. 

We watched in disbelief as a woman and her young friend blazed through our campsite, made a U-turn, and nearly took out our trailer slideout. The woman promptly drove over our electrical cord to our horse fencing and stopped … about three feet from our trailer.

We were parked on wide-open public lands. Better parking spots, complete with water hookups, dotted themselves across the prairie. “Are you kidding me?” we said in disbelief as it was clear this woman had no regard for … well, anything.

Something rose inside me and I realized I had to confront her. I prayed for grace and headed out the door. I’m not ashamed to say I was shaking a bit—I hate confrontation.

“You’re parked right in the middle of our campsite,” I said as I looked up into the icy blue eyes of a 5’ 9” woman in her 60’s. “And you’re parked over our electrical cord,” I chided.
“We wanted to park here so we would be near the bathrooms and water,” she retorted. “And don’t worry about the cord, my truck didn’t hurt anything. We’re experienced,” she added with a slight tilt of her chin. 
 

Experienced at what? I thought.

But I held my tongue, watching the face of her thirteen-year-old friend. I knew that look: sheer anticipation and excitement of riding a horse. I could have said and done a lot more than I did—I had the right. But I decided there was no way, no matter what, I would pursue a reprimand for her guardian’s actions and ruin the day for this little girl. However, I confronted ole Miss-Icy-Blue-Eyes just enough to allow the girl to see this kind of behavior was unacceptable.

As they saddled up, I cleaned our horses’ pen. I tried to ignore the fact that the woman’s pony tromped precariously close to our electrical cord. The little girl actually made an effort to keep him off of it, but she hadn’t been taught the correct way to handle a horse.

As I raked manure, I prayed. “Lord, help me deal with this. You know I have an issue with bullies, and I can see this is no coincidence. This woman did not need to park here, and for whatever reason, she’s targeted us.” I raked some more (albeit digging into the ground a little harder than I needed to).

“Kill ‘er with kindness,” came the answer. That’s not particularly what I wanted to hear. I also heard, ‘“Vengeance is mine,” saith the Lord’—I liked that one better. 

Our “Boys” taken care of I walked back toward our rig, glancing at the woman and girl as they prepared to mount their horses. “Have a nice ride,” I called. 
“Oh, you too! You too!” the woman said, her words tripping over themselves as they spilled out. “I hope it’s not windy like it was yesterday,” she added. 
“Yeah, I know. It was crankin’,” I replied. End of round one.

Later on when they returned, I observed further disregard: Without asking, they used the camp host’s hose that watered a fledgling tree. The horses tramped on the hose while they endured a cold water bath in the frigid wind. The hose was then left without replacing it on the tree; A manure pile graced our electrical cord next to their trailer; And a rotten apple littered the ground. It was quite obvious the range of this woman’s knowledge or give-a-hoot was just this side of nothin’.

When they left, Bruce surmised that they parked close to us to hide—they didn’t want to pay the $5.00 to use the water and figured they’d mooch off our spigot. And they never did use the bathroom.

I’d like to say as soon as they drove off, so did my issue with the whole situation.  But I still had to deal with myself and the fleshly side of me that wanted to throw down. However, the contrary thoughts I entertained would not have landed a good outcome.

There was no doubt I had done the right thing, backing off in respect for the little girl, but I needed help. I felt the old rage rekindle deep within me—a rage against the bullying spirit. And I couldn’t shake it. The Lord knew it and confirmed the word He impressed on me in the horse pen: I felt led to read a story in my email from Chicken Soup for the Soul called the “Kindness Cure.” The girl in the story was being bullied. In tears she went to her mom for help. “Kill ‘er with kindness,” her mom advised. The girl did, and the bully backed off.

“Thank You, Lord,” I laughed.

Even so, I still needed a tad more help. Granted, I could think of worse scenarios of bullying. But apparently I needed to start small, at square one, with the elementary version of “How To Handle A Bully God’s Way 101.”

I stood behind our rig gazing up at the gazillion stars like I did every night. I was reminded, yet again, how big God is and how much He cares about every detail of my life. So I humbly asked Him for help. He reminded me that to truly let it go, I had to forgive. And, after I’d “killed ‘er with kindness,” forgiveness would further get me off the hook and also allow Him to fully do what He needed in her life.  After all, she and the girl needed Him too. “Remember, you’re not fighting against flesh and blood,” He impressed. “You’re fighting against the principalities and evil forces that drive people to do ignorant stuff.” (Ephesians 6:12)

The way He instructed me to handle this encouraged me that I had permission to stand up to a bully and not flatline like a doormat. I could look a bully in the eye, but on His terms, in His way.

That night I slept like a rock. I woke up to birds singing (seriously, I did), enjoying the peace I needed. Of course Satan tried to bombard my thoughts again with the previous day’s events, but I just told him to shut up. I was diggin’ this peace and determined to hang on to it.

This opportunity was indeed not what I wanted, but it’s exactly what I needed.  Thank you, Jesus.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. And those who are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit—Galatians 5:22-25.

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled—https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

Of Cows and Chaos

“My grandson just had to walk away,” our friend, Roy, shook his head as he snapped his flip-phone shut. “If he quits me, I know we’re in trouble.” This should have been our first clue that moving these cows might not be as easy as we expected.

Our friends, Roy and Virginia, invited Bruce and I to hole up at their ranch in southern Colorado for most of the Spring and Summer. When we weren’t singing at various venues around the valley and beyond, we helped out on their ranch as well as other places in the area.

This particular day, Roy had asked us to help out by moving the lessee’s cows to a water tank located on his land. Somewhere around 30 miles away, 30+ head of these cows and calves, and a bull, were being loaded into a potbelly cattle trailer. They were to be at the corrals by 9:30am, but they had yet to show. That’s when the phone call had come in.

We patiently sat on our horses and pondered the situation. Even though that proverbial ‘red flag’ waved in the wind, we were still game to drive these cows to the tank. Besides, it was about a long-arrow-shot from the corrals. How big of a deal could it be?

We scanned the distant highway for any sign of the cattle rig. Nothing. Well, at least the weather is nice, and we had an excellent view of the surrounding Sangre de Cristo Mountains, I thought. 

Finally we heard the rattle and banging of the potbelly bumping along the washboard, dirt road. Roy’s grandson, apparently rejoining the lessee’s crew, slowly backed the semi-truck and trailer to the loading ramp. The door crashed open and hooves clattered down the ramp as the cattle trotted into the old wooden corral. Dust swirled and bovines bellowed as calves mothered-up with their mamas and matching ear tags were snapped on the calves ears.

They began to settle, and it appeared that they’d be a quiet bunch. Except maybe for a bald faced cow that watched us like a hawk. I reckoned that might be the lead cow.

Roy returned from checking the water tank and Bruce and I got in position. Roy swung the gate open.

The herd meandered out, sniffing the ground and eyeing us. They moved a little further and three of them stopped and stared at Nocona and me. I inched towards them, and they turned, walking in the direction of the tank. I reined Nocona in so not to pressure them too much. We wanted them to move along nice and slow.

Everything looked good…for about 5 seconds. Ole Miss Bald Face decided nice and slow wasn’t her style. Like a wild hair blowin’ in the March wind, she blasted off like a rocket, veering the opposite way… and taking the rest of the herd with her! There was nothin’ for it but to spur Nocona and bolt after her to try to head her off. Nocona, however, felt fresh as the morning dew and decided to let out a little steam. So, bucking and tooting, squeaking and snorting, we bounded through the sagebrush, dodging prairie dog holes and unyielding foliage.

Daylight shown through the gap between my rear and the saddle seat, and I about lost my hat. Trying for a death grip with my thighs to stay seated, I grabbed at my hat with one hand while my other hand white-knuckled the reins. By some miracle, we caught up with Baldy and turned her towards Bruce, who held the line on the other side of the herd.

The lead cows finally slowed when they got to a wide, shallow water hole with good, plentiful marsh grass. They dropped their heads in the shallow lake to drink and graze. Perfect. The water tank peeked through the greasewood, and we could smell victory. I swung Nocona around and headed back to check for stragglers.

The rest of the group moved in a tight bunch, so I slowly moved to the front of the herd. Suddenly Baldy threw her head up and charged across the lake like her tail was on fire. Bruce and I watched in dismay as the rest of the herd followed suit. There was no way to catch them over that terrain, and we had to let them go. 

What the heck just happened?

And then we saw Bailey, the ranch dog, happily bounding above the sagebrush in hot pursuit of a jack rabbit, ears flopping in perfect time with every bounce. She sailed away into the deeper brush, oblivious of the chaos she just caused. And, I ain’t gonna lie. Our thoughts were none too friendly towards that dog, right then!

Bruce called Roy to give him the unpleasant news. We saw the cows in the distance, settling around a huge rock pile. Suddenly they spooked again and plowed through the rabbitbrush. We had no idea where the end of the pasture was and for all we knew they could keep running for decades.

“You can go after them, if you want,” Roy said. “If not, we’ll try for them later.”

We scanned the horizon. There was just no “give up” in us. These cows needed to know where that tank was—when the weather warmed, the natural water holes and canals dried up pretty quick. Finally we spotted them. They had splashed across the wide canal, taking a breather next to a cross fence.

As we swung our horses towards the canal, a tiny brown calf appeared through the sage. The abandoned calf stared at us, unsure of what to do. We moved in behind him and gently drove him within earshot of the cows.

Reaching the canal, we noticed another abandoned calf. Huh. Funny what fear will do—the helpless get left in its wake. The two calves joined each other and decided to take refuge on the soft bank. The black calf plopped down amongst the brush while the brown calf decided to explore the edge of the canal for a way to cross the water.

About that time, low, throaty murmurs from a large black cow drifted across the pasture—a mama calling her calf. We assumed that she was looking for the black calf—solid black cow goes with solid black calf. Right? Not. She was aiming for the brown calf. Her scrappy little fella took the plunge in the water and waded the width of the canal to join her.

The black bull-calf rested in the brush, his sides heaving with exhaustion. Odd. Smaller calves than him made the trek, so why was he struggling? We climbed the embankment, out of his vision, so we wouldn’t further stress him. As we waited, we prayed.

While contemplating the calf, we faced another challenge. How do the two of us maneuver those flighty cows back through the canal, over the path between the waterways and into the pasture that lead to the tank?

OK, Lord, need some wisdom here.

As we pondered what to do, we watched in amazement as the herd began lining out along the fence and splashing back through the canal…like unseen riders drove them. They fanned out in the wide, grassy depression and continued moving in the direction we needed them to go.

Sweet. Now…what to do with the calf. Do we leave him? Stick with him? Call Roy to bring the ranch truck to pick him up? More prayers. In the meantime, “nature called” and Bruce and I took turns behind the rock pile.

Bruce cautiously walked to where the little guy lay. The calf jumped to its feet and limped across the embankment. We saw the cause of his troubles: He walked on the tip of his toe. He could’ve gotten hurt in the cattle truck or in the pen. But most likely, he got hurt when the cows stampeded to the back of the pasture. Who knows? At any rate, Bruce and I mounted our horses and slowly, gently moved him along the trail, not wanting to leave him for any lurking predators.

After about 100 feet, he found a sparse area between some scrub brush and plopped down again, tuckered out. We glanced at the cows. To our astonishment, the whole herd was moving steadily in our direction like an unseen force, again, drove them. Cowboy angels? I have no doubt!

As they moseyed past the calf, its mama finally showed and claimed him. They were officially mothered-up. If nothing else had worked out that day that was the most important!

Before the cows could get any ideas about crossing the canal again, Bruce and I moved around them and slowly turned them back towards the way they had come. As I drove them along the canal bank, Bruce swung down into the sloppy ground to keep them from turning from the direction of the water tank.

I prayed and held my breath as we reached a cross-fence: The cows needed to turn left across a small dirt bridge. I blew a sigh of relief as they drifted left.

They continued drifting into a low depression on the other side of the bridge and spread out across the pools of squishy grass. We tensed as we moved over the marsh. We were all too familiar with dangerous bogs, having dealt with these tendon-blowers in the past. Thankfully we splashed and sloshed through the shallow water without a problem.

We worked to keep the herd in a semi-tight bunch as we all emerged onto drier, brushier ground. We were home free! Almost. Unfortunately the bull decided he didn’t like his herd going the direction we wanted. For every foot we moved those cows, he’d push them back. This belligerent bovine charged back and forth in front of them, blowing, stomping, and pushing them with his nose to turn them around. We’d never seen anything like this.

Brush crashed and split to our right. We whipped around in time to see Bailey, once again, leaping over rabbit brush chasing cottontails. (Insert eye-roll here). However, we cooled our hot-heels in the realization that, though painfully slow, we were miraculously moving the herd, (albeit inch by inch), closer to the tank.

Finally we reached the edge of the pasture where we had started … about four hours before. We realized the bull wasn’t giving up, refusing to let his herd move any further; The cows weren’t complaining as they contentedly munched on marsh grass; And the calves decidedly flumped onto the soft sand, signaling the end of this whole broo-hah-hah. It was time to let ‘em be.

Well, except for the two cow/calf pairs near to us that were still wandering around. We drove them across a small water-filled ditch and onto the hard dirt next to that water tank. (Maybe they’d get the word out to their friends?) At any rate, we knew we’d driven the herd near enough to the tank for them to scout it out for themselves.

We swung our all-too-willing horses towards the ranch and happily trotted home.

P.S.: For those wondering what happened to our little friend—the black calf, we checked on him later that day and he was back running with his buddies amongst the sage. :)

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go”—Joshua 1:9.

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled—https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

In Memory Of ...

It’s been kinda rough around here. My father-in-law passed away last week. We, like so many others, are wading through the waves of grief, yet holding on to the treasured memories of a man who left his mark on “this side of the fence.”

So, in honor of him, Henry Joe Repka, I decided to repost this story—the first story I posted on this blog. Henry loved his family, loved his life as a lifelong, accomplished musician, and, boy, did he love his dogs!

I invite you to ride along with us as we remember a very special man…
                                
                                       Chico and the Man



 "The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all"—Psalm 34:17-19.

My father-in-law, Henry, loves dogs. Years ago his original "dog plan" was to breed Rat Terriers as a business adventure (yes, adventure). However, as the puppies were born, he became so attached to them he couldn't bear to sell them. His brood grew to a lively bunch of seven. I have fond memories of watching him walk his dogs next to the cow pasture. With Henry leading the way, his little entourage followed him like the Pied Piper. Or, when he drove his "Mule" to the back end of the property, one of his bunch would proudly sit in the passenger seat—mouth open, tongue hanging, and ears blowing back in the breeze.
 
Henry also has a huge heart for homeless or unwanted dogs no matter what size or breed. As each one of the little Rat Terriers eventually moved on to the "Happy Hunting Ground of Heaven," a stray or unwanted dog would, without fail, show up "on the door step."   
 
He discovered Smokey, abandoned and wandering, around a gas station pump. She stole Henry's heart and became his constant companion for many years.
 
When the inevitable time came and she passed peacefully to join her former companions, my father-in-law was heartbroken. It is never easy to lose a loved one, be it human or animal, no matter what the age or reason.
 
It was a lonely drive as he traveled to the family farm for his monthly visit. He tried to steel himself as he passed every rest and potty stop that he and Smokey would frequent during that long trip. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I can't deal with this," he cried. "Lord, You're going to have to help me." He drove on to the farm, parked his car, and wearily began to unload his things. 
 
Suddenly something caught his attention—a tiny figure next to the farmhouse door. He moved in for a closer inspection and discovered a lively little Chihuahua investigating the porch.
 
Daily inquiries were made until it was apparent that this little guy was homeless … dumped on the County Road to fend for himself. At this realization, Henry immediately made him part of the family and named him Chico.
 
Chico has proven to be a family project. Scared and defensive, no one could get close without him yelping. One day my mother-in-law, Betty, was lying on the couch and her hand slipped to the ground … right next to Chico. A "Grrrrrrrr!" immediately resounded from somewhere under the coffee table—her hand pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone.
 
However, as Henry and Betty persevered in their patient care of this little dog, Chico began to progress from whimpering at them to whimpering for them when they were out of his sight. The latest feat was actually picking him up, which,had not been a tolerable move until now. With heavy BBQ gloves to protect against defensive teeth, they crossed this last hurdle. But they needn't have bothered with the gloves. Chico lay perfectly peaceful in their "armory" … no animosity, whatsoever, expressed. He has now become Henry's faithful companion, following him everywhere and sleeping next to him in a little blanketed, cardboard box next to the bed.
 
The Lord displayed his grace by bringing these lives together: one with a broken heart, the other abused and homeless. He knows that in this life we will go through trials and heartaches. But He promises, through Jesus, to deliver us out of them all in victory and with strength. His love is so great that it will reach out in answer to a simple prayer—even bringing an abandoned little dog to a man's door step to help ease the pain of a loss. (1 John 4:14-16; Lamentations 3:21-23)  

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Shara's book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God's encouragement on the trail less-traveled: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

***GIVEAWAY SWEEPSTAKES*** is almost over!

Just a reminder! ***Giveaway Sweepstakes*** ends March 4 (tomorrow)! Enter for a chance to win an eBook version of the award-winning book, Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled! Amazon giveaway link: https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/eb99246a1e534fec. For those of you who already have the book, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your purchase, kind comments and reviews. Through God's grace, He is using this book in a mighty way, and my desire is to encourage as many people as I can with it. God Bless Y'all! 😃

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https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812

PRICE PLUNGE!

GREAT news! Just in time for Christmas! 💖 Amazon continues to drop the price on my award-winning book: Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God’s Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled! I don’t claim to know the reasoning behind their pricing, I just note when it drops. I know that I’ll be jumping on that price plunge before they pop it back up again! 😀  https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement/dp/1512774812/

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The Art of the Ear: When God Speaks

“But whoever listens to Me will dwell safely and will be secure, without fear of evil”—Proverbs 1:33.

Giving God our ear. Hmmmmm. What does that look like? How does God speak to us? Many ask this.

For me, His voice has different “sounds”: He gives a strong impression in my spirit about a particular situation ... a gut feeling, if you will; The truths in His Word will come alive as I read and revelation hits me right between the eyes; He will move on someone to be His voice, giving me an encouraging word; He’ll give me a dream while I’m sleeping; Or, He may use pictures in His amazing Creation to illustrate His character.

When He speaks to me through His Creation, that’s incredibly cool. One time, I was out feeding the horses trying to work through some stuff in my head. I glanced up and saw the most magnificent full rainbow I’d ever seen— and a double one to boot. The colors were so vibrant and alive. I ran to the trailer and grabbed my camera. As I stared at that rainbow, profound thoughts eased my mind: Our Creator created incredible beauty out of mere mist; Every rainbow from the very first one is the same—the same colors, the same lines, the same form. They don’t change. He doesn’t change. His promises never change. In this world, we can’t count on anything. But we can count on Him—encouragement I needed right then and a word in due season. (Isaiah 52:7)

He used a gentle breeze to encourage an acquaintance of mine. She was reading her Bible outside, troubled by a circumstance she faced. The breeze kept blowing the pages to a certain scripture. Every time she tried to turn back to the previous spot where she was reading, the breeze would flip the pages right back to that other place. She finally looked down where the breeze stopped—there she found the answer to her problem.

He likes to speak through people to give His encouraging words. Years ago I was asked to sing at a trail ride in Texas. When I pulled up on the ranch, my heart was heavy. I had a new truck, two beautiful horses and looked as though I hadn’t a care in the world. But on the inside, I was hurting and scared. I had two jobs: one in an office, one on a ranch. A “friend” betrayed me and stole the ranch job—the one I had based my truck payment on. Single, with no other means of extra support, I was afraid of losing everything.

A few days before I drove to the trail ride, I prayed, “Lord, please make yourself real to me.” Until then, I did not believe the Lord really knew I existed—unless I hung out with people I thought were spiritual. Let me tell ya, the devil had deceived me good!

I parked my rig and made my way over to a big oak tree. I leaned against it, quietly watching the other singers on the stage. A man and his wife, whom I had never met, walked up. “I have a word for you from the Lord,” he said. That man “read my mail.” He told me, “The Lord said, ‘all your needs are already taken care of.’” I was floored. I had not told a soul what I was going through, not even my closest friends. How in the world did this guy know my situation?

One week later, I received some cleaning jobs that perfectly dovetailed with my day job at the office. The wages from the cleaning jobs covered my old ranch wages to the dollar.

Two months later, the same man gave me another word from the Lord: I would be given one job that would take care of all my needs. Within three months, I quit my cleaning jobs because the office I worked for offered me a higher position in another department with a lot more pay.

I have learned that He is always directing us with that still small voice of His ... or trying to. I’ve blown right over the top of it— more than once, I’m afraid. One time, He impressed on Bruce, my husband and me to clean up the pine needles under the high-line our horses were tethered to. We didn’t, getting distracted with some other project. Our “Hoover”-horse, Rocky, decided he very much liked the taste of pine needles, proceeding to suck up every strand in the area. He promptly colicked. We were way out in the National Forest with no phone service. Prayer and the painkiller Banamine played veterinarian. He was pooping pine needles for the next day and a half, but he pulled through.

In all my years with horses in the mountains, I have never seen them eat pine needles. I never, ever imagined that Rocky would do that. But it didn’t matter what I thought or what my experience was. The Lord told us to rake up the pine needles ... period. He knew what would happen. Lesson learned ... again!

Fine-tuning the art of the ear takes practice. Sometimes total resurrection. But it’s an art worth bringing back to life. It means laying down our own desires and agendas. It takes not just being hearers of the Word of God, but doers of what He’s asked us to do. (James 1:22-25)

And the reward? We can live a life of victory and peace, encouraging others in the same. (John 15:12-13)

Listen ... Listen ... Listen ...

www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore.

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


H.A.L.T.

I love acronyms. Whoever thought of this memory-jogger was a genius.

My husband, Bruce and I were introduced to one of these creative gems at a youth Bible study. But like other pieces of useful information that get crowded out by life, I needed a reminder of this helpful acronym during a situation we faced.

I figured it might come in handy for others too, so I’ll share it with y’all. So, here goes. H.A.L.T.: Halt if you are:

H: HUNGRY 
Oh my. When I’m hungry, I fall into the “whatever” mood category: “I don’t care, just get it done.”; “Let’s just get there.”; or, “I don’t care what we do, I just need a snack.”

And everyone knows to never go near a grocery store with a growling stomach. The junk food retailer’s stock skyrockets every time on this one!

*A: ANGRY: Stay tuned. I’ll come back to this one.
 
L: LONELY
I’ve made some pretty bonehead moves when I was lonely (I won’t elaborate).

T: TIRED
I figure I’d better not do anything while I’m tired. I may be convinced I’m coherent, but realize later…hmmmm, not so much. I’ve glanced at sent texts and emails and realized: Yeah, should have waited.

*A: ANGRY:
I’ve left the “A” part for last. Being lonely, or tired, or hungry can drive us to make less than stellar decisions. But angry? This one might be the worst decision-driving emotion ever. For it’s with anger that words are said, actions are taken, and destinies determined that may never, except by the grace of God, ever be fixed.

A healthy dose of self-control curbs emotions and can be a handy little tool to douse the spark that could cause a potential wildfire—a wildfire that destroys a lot of ground and a lot of people.

Which brings me to the following “situation we faced” and thankfully in this case, I listened and obeyed that Giver of self-control …

The wall our back was shoved against left indents in my shoulder blades. And the friend who could have helped us, betrayed us.

My hands shook as I pounded out a text message on my cell phone in response to one of her stunts. My thumb hovered over the send button when a still small voice cut through the flame, “Don’t do anything in anger.” I knew this to be true, but I so wanted to fire off that text!

However, I paused. I glanced over at Bruce who, not 15 minutes before, snapped, “That woman’s gonna push me too far!”

I read him my text, a little part of me hoping for validation and the confirmation to hit that little green button.  He looked around at me and to my surprise said calmly, “Don’t do anything in anger.”

Like cold water on a hot flame, I realized God was confirming His word to me. My phone fairly flew across the counter as I shoved it away. I knew one twitch out of me would have sent that text flyin’.

I cooled down, grateful I didn’t send this text. The day before, as I was ranting and flinging manure across my horse’s stall into the bin, the Lord gave me a serious command: “Hold your peace, vengeance is mine.” And then started chatting with me about forgiveness. It would not have been wise to ignite any fires with my message. (“Be angry, and do not sin”: do not let the sun go down on your wrath, nor give place to the devil (Ephesians 4:26-27).

God knows what He’s doing when He tells us to H.A.L.T. before making a decision. Take a breath, scarf an energy bar, take a nap. Whatever it takes that’s moral and decent with no side effects, we need to do it. Nothing is worse than having to undo an unwise move. I’d rather not spend the energy to apologize, lament over an excessive grocery bill, or explain why I sounded like a dork. I’d like to act right the first time and avoid cleaning up a mess.

So, the next time we face a challenge or a decision while we’re hungry, angry, lonely, or tired … and we will … join me in implementing H.A.L.T.. Our lives will be much more peaceful and productive for it.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law (Galatians 5:22-23).
 

www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


Even the Flowers Face the Sun

Funny how a simple walk up the pasture can reveal the wisdom of God.

I do well with pictures. When someone is trying to explain technical or difficult things to me, it’s better for all of us if they can paint a picture with their words, or show me a drawing. God knows this. He created me and is well aware of my idiosyncrasies and brainwaves.

As I wandered through the grass, I noticed the wild flowers. The sun was bright and lit up the pasture like a coat of many colors—yellow, lavender, blue, pink, fuchsia.

The yellow flowers grabbed my attention the most. Every one of their countless little faces, faced the sun—petals outstretched and unhindered, soaking up the life-giving rays. They took full advantage of the sun’s offering before it dipped behind the horizon.

And God spoke to my heart: “Even my Creation looks to Me, turning their backs on the shadows to receive the nutrients they need.”

My husband, Bruce and I are facing a pretty huge challenge. We’ve faced some big ones in the past, but this one’s a doozy. And there is nothing we can do about it, except stand firm in our beliefs and pray.

The flowers in their silence spoke volumes this morning. No matter how strong the breeze, they flexed and bent, but never turned away from the sun. They didn’t shake their fist at the sky and complain about the wind. They didn’t huff at the cow pies that littered their green carpet. And they didn’t scoff at their fellow flowers who seemed to be enjoying a calmer existence. They just kept their focus on that consistent sun that rises every morning to give them what they need.

I was encouraged: the winds of life are opportunities to learn endurance; the cow pies add much needed fertilizer that promotes growth; and the calm others enjoy, well, praise God they’re getting a break for awhile.

So, I’m taking my cue from the flowers, from God’s voice teaching me through His Creation: Keep my eyes on the Son. No matter what the outcome in this challenge, I know it’s all good. Whatever plan He has for us, it will be a good future, full of hope, and a great testimony of His goodness. (Jeremiah 29:11-13)

And if, in a weak moment, I start to wilt with worry, I think I’ll take a stroll back out in the pasture and sit next to those little yellow flowers … just to remind me.

Psalm 25:15: My eyes are ever toward the Lord, for He shall pluck my feet out of the net. (NKJV)

www.ponyexpressministry.com
www.trail-tails.blogspot.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


Of Patience and Cholla

One of my favorite things to do is ride the backcountry on my horse, Nocona. I love exploring the wide open spaces. Also, there are always lessons to be learned or reminders of lessons once learned: parallels that compare riding the trails to life itself. The lessons quite often involve patience—and Jesus coming to the rescue when I fall short.

So went the adventure as Nocona and I rode merrily down the trail. I glanced at his feet as we rode a precarious part of the path. Seriously, Nocona? Do you need to walk on the edge? I gently cued him with my legs and hands to move him over to a safer part of the trail. He fought me on it. Frustrated, I rolled my spur a bit too energetically on his side. Oh, he listened then! His rump spun around—right into a cholla cactus.

Now, those of you with any experience in the desert with its various array of cacti are probably reading fast to see what happened next. Well, what could have happened and what did happen were two different things ... thank God. Nocona had three bulbs of cholla sticking in his back leg and rump. And yes, he commenced to bucking and kicking, entering us in our own little private rodeo on top of a hill—complete with a cliff. "JESUS HELP ME!" I blurted out.

Immediately, Nocona stopped in mid-air, landed, and calmly stood as I dismounted—like nothing was stuck in him at all! Looking around, I saw no trees to tie him to (only cactus—and that wasn't happening). So, pointing him straight ahead, I stepped back to his flank and rummaged through my saddlebag for my trail gloves. You've got to be kidding me—where are my trail gloves? I never leave home without those. Great.

Have you ever been up close and personal with a cholla and its lovely, long, needle-sharp barbs? If so, I bet you're cringing right now—so was I. But there was "nothin' for it" but to cowgirl-up, grab hold, and pull. Surprisingly (and a miracle), I hardly felt it, and the cholla bulb came out easier than expected. Nocona kicked out a couple of times, but they all came out with no problem.

After all was said and done, I realized we stood in the only clearing—no cactus or rocks—and on the only part of the trail my horse could safely "break in two" (as we call it) and not be in serious trouble.

Thank you, Jesus, for your ever so patient heart (and Your angels who had to be standing there holding my horse)!

 "The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knows those who trust in Him”—Nahum 1:7 

www.ponyexpressministry.com

Clouds Without Rain

‘These are spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water {rain}, carried about by the winds; late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots;’-Jude 1:12

I stared at the clouds, praying their blackness would oblige us and dump some much needed rain.  The red-orange glow of lightning-ignited fires ate up the surrounding mountainsides.  Dust mixed with smoke choked the long valley where we rode as we moved cattle up the Payette River.  

Why weren’t those clouds cooperating?  They meandered and accumulated, taunting us.  They had every look of a rain cloud, but they withheld any moisture. 

We left the cows at the salt blocks as the clouds drifted away and dissipated over the distant mountains, leaving behind frustration and haze.

“Clouds without rain” trailed through my thoughts, and I suddenly realized what that Bible verse meant—to understand the frustration of hope diverted.  I pondered the destruction of people’s lives around me: a heroine addict here, a grieving parent there, a lonely divorcee over yonder, and hopelessness abounded, driven by fear.

The common thread weaving its way through the desolation was a disillusionment of God. Where is He?  They had searched all the “normal” places but found nothing … no love, no answers. Oh, they found a semblance of spirituality in the folks they met, but nothing of substance.

As one rides along, there sure is time to ponder.  And I pondered.  Profound, disturbing questions pelted my thoughts as Nocona’s hooves pounded the sand:

Are we just too busy with our everyday lives to offer the hope within us, helping the hurting who stagger across our path? Are we too busy playing church, to go be the church?

Or, do we trip over the troubled as we lunge in a flesh-feeding frenzy, grabbing gold dust and jewels falling from a false heaven?

Are we as Believers in Jesus Christ living the Great Commission as Jesus’ hands and feet—healing the sick, casting out demons, raising the dead … binding up the broken-hearted? 

As I rode, I checked my own “gear”: When people observe my life, do they see God’s Word walking? Or do they hear a bunch of yammering and spiritual platitudes?—A cloud that should be full of rain, but void of any life-giving moisture? (I like asking myself the tough questions when I’m riding in God’s awesome creation—I can digest the hard questions a lot easier!)

(“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts; And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”- Psalm 139:23-24).

David’s prayer is a bit scary, really.  Deep down, we all want to think that what we’ve chosen to believe is right—that we have a corner on the spiritual market. However, the truth is simply this: we are all growing and learning in this journey we call life.  But our learning better be coming from “rightly dividing the word of truth” in God’s Word through the Holy Spirit.  And when the Lord in His love and grace reveals a hitch-in-the-get-along in our lives, we’d best be swallowing our pride and humbly fixing it (2 Timothy 2:15).

Nocona and I rode out of the river bottom and up the bluff, joining the rest of the crew. And I determined to always be that refreshing “rain” to those the Lord brings across my path, as a faithful representative of Jesus Christ.

As with everything in life, the lack of rain was temporary.  A couple of days later, the wind kicked up, and other clouds appeared. But this time they emptied themselves on that thirsty soil. As the land greedily gulped in the moisture, the dust settled and the smoke cleared. And I breathed deeply the cool, fresh air.

(www.trail-tails.blogspot.com)

(www.ponyexpressministry.com)

(Copyright 2016 Sharabueler-repka.com. All Rights Reserved.) 

Don't Lose Heart

Analogies of life are everywhere, popping up inconspicuously in the norm of everyday doings. But if we're watchful, we catch that encouragement of God’s ‘still small voice’ as he helps us along our trail. Here's an inspiring one that revealed itself as we helped a friend work her family's cattle in the hills of California:

And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.—Galatians 6:9

Bruce rode down to the flat, and I rode up into the hills. Branding and vaccinating were the order of the day as we worked with other volunteers to help gather cattle for a friend. Sometimes we rode fast and hard to head off mavericks that didn’t have a hankerin’ to get corralled, but eventually we got them herded in the right direction.  

As Bruce and I calmly drove all the cows, calves and the bull into the holding pen, the others worked the gates and stood ready by the chute.  Riding nice and slow, we then helped our friend sort the cows, moving them one by one into the alleyway that led toward the chute.  

But an ole bossy-cow had other ideas.  One minute we thought we had her convinced, next minute she’d wheel around and plow through us like a freight train and scatter the other cows. She knew no fear, nor mercy. But we regrouped and tried again.

With a fair amount of patience, we finally got her moving toward the alleyway—and we smelled victory. Suddenly the air exploded with shouts and mayhem—the gate-guy left his post to play “cowboy.”  Wild arms waved through the air as shouts of, “Hey, Hey, Hey!” and “Aaaaaah!” (along with a various sundry of other animated communication) ripped through the air like fireworks. Instantly, a sea of swirling cows surrounded us.

With jaws dropped, we watched all our work circle the drain. Our friend (the boss) quickly stepped in and quenched the fireworks, sending Gate-guy with tucked tail back to his post.

We had to start all over with that cow, along with quieting the herd. To say we were a bit annoyed would be putting it mildly. We took a deep breath, however, and swung our horses around, determined not to give up and lose sight of our goal.

It took some time, but every cow was finally vaccinated and branded, and we cut them loose into their world of pastures and freedom, in health and security. 

As I relaxed on my horse, watching happy cows, I grinned at the analogy that played out that day.  We live in dangerous and discouraging times, no question.  Distractions in every way shape and form are lurking everywhere ready to ambush our peace and purpose. 

But no matter what, we must never lose our focus of what Jesus has called us to do, and the grace that He gives. There are those in desperate need of the care and security only He can bring.  And He has commissioned us, His people, to help bring them home to Him.

(Luke 4:18-19—“The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.”)

(Copyright 2016 Sharabueler-repka.com. All Rights Reserved.) 

www.ponyexpressministry.com

*Exciting announcement!* Walk Like a Warrior: Inspirational True Stories of God's Encouragement on the Trail Less-Traveled is now available in print and Kindle editions through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the WestBow Press bookstore. 

https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Like-Warrior-Inspirational-Encouragement-ebook/dp/B071SFQP2T/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1496082052&sr=8-1&keywords=walk+like+a+warrior+book


Welcome to my first blog post!

At long last I’m launching myself into the blogosphere. So, how about some encouragement throughout your month? Welcome to my blog: Trail Tails. The way I figure it, we all need to be encouraged in this daily adventure we call life.  I, personally, love stories about how God shows up in our everyday lives, helping us along our trail.  And I love to laugh.

  . 

My life is fairly interesting.  My husband, Bruce and I sing Christian Country music and sing/minister all over the western United States.  We’ve been living on the road full-time in our living quarters horse trailer for about nine years. Needless to say, we and our two horses, Rocky and Nocona (aka The Boys) have had many adventures.  Some of those stories I’ve compiled in a book, Walk Like A Warrior: Inspirational true stories of God’s encouragement on the trail less-traveled (available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.). And still other stories have been sold to magazines. I also enjoy sharing the stories of others.

I invite you to enjoy my blog with its adventures (ours and others) and the pictures. I also welcome your input: Have a question? I’ll be quick to answer (If I don’t, you’ll know we’re galavanting around the backcountry and returning with more stories.);  Or, have a bit of constructive criticism? I’ll don my thick skin with “ears up.”

I picked this first story because I just felt it would be an encouragement to many that, in God’s eyes, you always matter.  And thanks for hanging out with me for awhile.

Chico and the Man

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all."-Psalm 34:17-19

My father-in-law, Henry, loves dogs. Years ago his original "dog plan" was to breed Rat Terriers as a business adventure (yes, adventure). However, as the puppies were born, he became so attached to them he couldn't bear to sell them. His brood grew to a lively bunch of seven. I have fond memories of watching him walk his dogs next to the cow pasture. With Henry leading the way, his little entourage followed him like the Pied Piper. Or, when he drove his "Mule" to the back end of the property, one of his bunch would proudly sit in the passenger seat—mouth open, tongue hanging, and ears blowing back in the breeze.  

Henry also has a huge heart for homeless or unwanted dogs no matter what size or breed. As each one of the little Rat Terriers eventually moved on to the "Happy Hunting Ground of Heaven," a stray or unwanted dog would, without fail, show up "on the door step."    

He discovered Smokey, abandoned and wandering, around a gas station pump. She stole Henry's heart and became his constant companion for many years.

When the inevitable time came and she passed peacefully to join her former companions, my father-in-law was heartbroken. It is never easy to lose a loved one, be it human or animal, no matter what the age or reason.

It was a lonely drive as he traveled to the family farm for his monthly visit. He tried to steel himself as he passed every rest and potty stop that he and Smokey would frequent during that long trip. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I can't deal with this," he cried. "Lord, You're going to have to help me." He drove on to the farm, parked his car, and wearily began to unload his things.   

Suddenly something caught his attention—a tiny figure next to the farmhouse door. He moved in for a closer inspection and discovered a lively little Chihuahua investigating the porch.

Daily inquiries were made until it was apparent that this little guy was homeless … dumped on the County Road to fend for himself. At this realization, Henry immediately made him part of the family and named him Chico.

Chico has proven to be a family project. Scared and defensive, no one could get close without him yelping. One day my mother-in-law, Betty, was lying on the couch and her hand slipped to the ground … right next to Chico. A "Grrrrrrrr!" immediately resounded from somewhere under the coffee table—her hand pushing the boundaries of his comfort zone. 

However, as Henry and Betty persevered in their patient care of this little dog, Chico began to progress from whimpering at them to whimpering for them when they were out of his sight. The latest feat was actually picking him up, which,had not been a tolerable move until now. With heavy BBQ gloves to protect against defensive teeth, they crossed this last hurdle. But they needn't have bothered with the gloves. Chico lay perfectly peaceful in their "armory" … no animosity, whatsoever, expressed. He has now become Henry's faithful companion, following him everywhere and sleeping next to him in a little blanketed, cardboard box next to the bed.

The Lord displayed his grace by bringing these lives together: one with a broken heart, the other abused and homeless. He knows that in this life we will go through trials and heartaches. But He promises, through Jesus, to deliver us out of them all in victory and with strength. His love is so great that it will reach out in answer to a simple prayer—even bringing an abandoned little dog to a man's door step to help ease the pain of a loss. 

(1 John 4:14-16; Lamentations 3:21-23)  

Stay tuned for another adventure …

(Copyright 2016 Sharabueler-repka.com. All Rights Reserved.) 

www.ponyexpressministry.com