To the church that brought me home...

As I made my way to Cowboy Church of Erath County for the last time yesterday morning, there were a million emotions running through my head.  It was at this church that I found God.  It took a while, but He came to me and my life began to change. 

It all started with a roommate.  Together we made the decision to start going.  I can’t remember any of the sermons from that time.  While I was gaining peace of mind, my soul was still quite restless. 

I remember pulling into that church parking lot one Sunday morning with every intention of going in.  I needed God in a way that I couldn’t explain.  Tears were streaming down my face as I tried to recall what had transpired the drunken night before.  It was a night like so many others…blacked out drunk, angry and fighting for reasons I couldn’t explain, and waking up a shell of a person not knowing who I was anymore.  I was lost and ashamed.  I was so far gone that I didn’t even think God could save me.  It wasn’t the first time I had been in that dark, lonely place.  As I sat there with a tear soaked face, my shame and guilt convinced me to go home.  God didn’t want me.

I remember backing into the box for the first time on my dad’s horse.  Hard work and determination drew me to this church.  As I backed that little sorrel into the corner for the first time, I felt alive.  I knew my dad was with me and it was then that I felt God move through me.  His presence was reflected in everything I did that night and I viewed it all through renewed eyes of faith.  It was then that I knew fellowship.  It was then that I really had a Texas family.

I remember those old feelings of anger creeping up on me again and again.  A fight in the parking lot of that very church with someone I thought had truly cared about me one Sunday morning opened my eyes to what I wanted and who I was designed to be.  My time spent at the Cowboy Church of Erath County brushed those feelings away and replaced them with hope where I once had none. 

And I remember the people…each and every person there that made me feel like I belonged.  One in particular is the hardest to say goodbye to.  He is my favorite face to see on Sunday mornings.  He is my favorite person to visit with on Wednesday nights in the practice pen.  He builds me up.  He is a brave warrior who has battled cancer and won with the help of the Lord.  An unrelenting faith pulses through his veins and you can’t help but feel blessed when you are around him.

Now I stand at a crossroad.  Those same feelings of fear and anxiousness pulse through me.  I like the cowboy church up by my new house, but will I fit in there like I did here?  Will I feel that fellowship that I felt here?  But most importantly, will I feel God there like I did here?  I don’t have those answers, but I know that the Lord has been pulling me that direction now for a long time.  Perhaps my purpose is so much greater than I ever imagined.  Something is waiting for me up there.  I don’t quite know what it is, but I know that I need to go. 

Saying goodbye was tough, but I can always come back and visit.  I will cherish the memories that I have made in this place and look forward to making new memories.  Thank you to Werth, Gene, and especially Don for giving me what I didn’t think I needed when I needed it the most and for showing me the way.  I’ll never forget you!

On to the next journey!   

The Dance of a Fatherless Daughter

It is 4:48 am and I am now wide awake.  Why am I on the computer writing this rather than trying to go back to sleep?  The answer is simple…I want to remember everything that just happened in my brain.  I am sorry that this isn’t necessarily “Roper Girl” related.  Deal with it.  This isn’t for you.  It’s for me (but I hope you enjoy it anyway).

Unable to sleep soundly for the last few months, it was suggested to me by the boyfriend that I take melatonin.  Once purchased and prior to consumption, he casually mentioned the sometimes “crazy” dreams that he has while on them.  Knowing my completely jacked up mind all too well, he laughed and said, “I can’t wait to hear about your dreams!”

Night one on melatonin was awesome.  I was relaxed and fell right to sleep.  Although I had to be up earlier than normal, I awakened feeling rested and ready to kick the day’s ass.  Night two went a little differently.  I took the melatonin because although I was extremely tired, I could tell that the second I slipped into bed, my mind would race…sending me sailing on a ship of sleeplessness, yet again.  Like the night before, I started to relax quickly and I found it easy to fall into a deep, restful sleep.  But, then it began.  The dream…

A little background information you should probably know before continuing to read this:

As most of you are already aware from my previous ramblings, I unexpectedly lost my dad seven years ago.  It was, without a doubt, the hardest, most traumatic thing I have ever been through.  As uncaring as I often come across, my heart is very soft and this is one topic that makes me extremely emotional.  I never know when those feelings are going to rear their ugly heads.  More often than not, it is when I am completely elated with life, sending those around me into a state of confusion and leading them to believe that I am bipolar.  After much self-psychiatry, I have come to the conclusion that this happens only because when I was happiest in the years that he was still alive, he was the first person I wanted to share it with.  He was a best friend.  If this were Neverland, my dad would be my “happy place”. 

Most of the time, when someone loses a family member, they cherish photos, memories and dreams that they have of their loved one.  When he died, I became painfully aware that there were no photos of him and me together since I was very young.  The last picture I had with him was during a calf branding when I was probably a freshman in high school.  There are no candid shots.  No loving, smiling pictures of us together.  And there are absolutely no photos of us together during my college years or the years leading up to his unexpected passing.  For this reason, a part of my heart will never heal.  I have no concrete memories to hold on to and look at…nothing except the images that I desperately cling to in my head and in my heart.    

This brings me to my second heartache.  Most people who have lost someone close to them, claim to have dreams where their loved one comes to comfort them in some way or another.  I have always been extremely envious and jealous of these people.  In the last seven years, I have had one dream that I remember and that was a little over a year after he was gone.  But thanks to melatonin, that was all about to change.

Dreams are funny.  I can’t remember how this one got started, but I can tell you exactly how it ended.  The first part of the dream that I can recall was of me, desperately digging through photos trying to find one of us together.  I knew (and for the record, I still know in my awakened mindset) that there had to be at least one photo of him and me together at my graduation.  It is out there somewhere…it just can’t be found.  I don’t remember the entire dialog from the dream, but I can remember every stinging feeling of pain, disappointment, confusion, anger, and sadness because I have felt those same feelings and emotions over and over again since he passed away.  But then something happened…

As I was desperately digging through these photos, I came across a pile that I knew contained the jackpot.  I vigorously flipped through the photos, tossing them down as I went.  My disappointment quickly turned to excitement and hope (something that my awakened mindset has long given up on).  I came across one that showed my family as a whole, sitting together.  I recognized my aunt, my mom, an old boyfriend…and there it was…my dad and I…sitting directly across from each other, smiling.  As I held the photo in my hand, I knew I didn’t want to ever let it go.  But then, something amazing happened.  The photo came to life and all of a sudden it was as if I was watching a video.  I was on the couch with my mom, who was reading.  As I watched, I started hitting her arm, unable to speak, signaling her to see what I was seeing.  Just like in the photo, he and I were sitting across from each other.  We were smiling and laughing and then we both stood.  He embraced me in a hug (something I long for constantly and feel I would give up everything for, just to experience one more time) and then he took his hand in mine and began to dance with me.  It was as if it were in slow motion.  We weren't two-stepping or dancing a waltz.  We were just slowly swaying back and forth.  There was a warmth that I felt in my heart that I cannot begin to put into words.  His hand on the middle of my back…his other hand in mine…him looking at me affectionately in a way only a father can…his blue eyes…his mustached smile…us…together…laughing and smiling...dancing to music that I could not hear, nor wanted to.  And all the while, it was as if I were watching it in a movie.  I was just an onlooker.

In my dream, I was watching this sobbing, my hands over my mouth as tears flowed from eyes down my cheeks.  I blinked them away as quickly as I could as I did not want to miss a single second of what I was seeing.  While I felt the heartache of missing him, I was so elated to have that moment burned into my brain and into my heart.  It was then that I realized I was awake.  As quickly as the dream had come, it was gone.  Vanished, like a puff of smoke into thin air.  I could still feel the tears running cold down my cheeks and as I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, sobbing, all I could think was, “thank you.”  I know it wasn’t real.  I know that never happened.  Suddenly, a realization hit me.  One of the things that I have learned during my self-psychiatry sessions is that relationships were typically always dead ends for me.  I started them knowing I wouldn’t finish them because there is an aspect of a wedding that I simply cannot stand to fathom…the father/daughter dance.  I’m sure to those of you reading this, that sounds completely absurd.  But, in my severely broken, messed up mind, that is one thing that has kept me from letting anyone get too close...ever.  I can barely make it through someone else's wedding without copious amounts of booze...so the thought of partaking in my own wedding someday, put simply,  turns my stomach.  I have a million amazing memories with my dad…but I have no memories of us ever sharing a moment like that.  Now I do. 

I don’t know if there was any message in that dream that I should have been paying attention to.  Maybe someday I will understand it a little better.  But right now…at 5:37 am…I am so thankful to have had that moment.  It may not have happened in real life, but he came to me and gave me something...a memory, that I have hopelessly longed for…a father/daughter dance.

Opinions are like...well, you know!

Things have been pretty hectic around here for the last couple of months.  Work has kept me away from home, and the weather has been cold and crappy.  I went home for a while to visit the family for Christmas.  I’m trying to buy a house.  Basically, all of these things have kept me off my horses and away from writing.  But this last week, I was close to home for work and the weather was beautiful.  There were no excuses not to ride, and I couldn’t wait to start breaking in that new saddle! 

My first day out, both Solo and Kid Rock were heinous creatures to be around.  They were hot and fresh (which reminds me that I am on a diet and pizza sounds delicious…sorry, sidetracked easily).  They were running over the top of me, running away with me,  not paying attention to anything I was trying to get them to do…just being all-around jerks.  For those of you who know me, you know I grew up on a ranch with a dad who was very “cowboy” about things.  Almost everything that I learned, I learned from him.  I try to pick up as much knowledge as I can from others along the way, but my roots lie with my dad.  Some people may disagree with my tactics, and that is just fine.  You don’t have to like the way I do things, just as I don’t have to agree with your methods (we will talk a little more on this later!).  That night, my horses stayed saddled and tied up.  All night.  It’s a little thing that I like to call “thinking treatment.”

The next morning, they were ready to go to work.  Their attitudes were completely different and they were starting to act like my horses again.  After a big lay-off like that, sometimes you have to do a little attitude adjusting and then get back to the basics.  Again, I am no expert and I am not telling you these stories so you can do what I do…I am simply sharing a little insight into my life.  I am just like most people…I do get rough on things once in a while and then I feel guilty about it.  I know that one mistake made with a horse can take months to fix.  We all get angry and do things we probably shouldn’t.  This applies to everything in life.  And if we do, then we need to realize our mistake and try to make it right.  I spent that first day fighting with my horses.  That was the wrong way to go about it.  I have since been relying on the basics to refresh my horse’s minds and get them back into the shape that they were in last fall when I was riding every day.  Slowly, but surely, they are both coming along.

But what I really want to talk about today is differences in opinion.  I met with an old family friend this morning for breakfast.  She and I had never met until today, although she has been reading my blog and following me on Facebook for some time.  She made a comment that stuck with me.  “I love you already!  I have been following your Facebook and although my opinions sometimes differ from yours…”  We’ll trail off there, because the “difference of opinion” part is the part I want to touch on.  (Disclaimer: this was not said with any kind of spite or snarkiness…she was just stating a fact that I am sure most people would agree with about me!)  I don’t share my opinions because I want everyone to be like me or I am trying to brainwash your thinking.  I do it because I am extremely outspoken and very strong-willed, and I encourage people to enlighten me and present me with intellectual challenge whenever possible!   With that being said, after breakfast was over, I was reading a post on Facebook that a horsewoman whom I wholeheartedly respect and admire had posted.  It was basically a defensive post regarding horse color (something I will gladly admit, sometimes I am quite ignorant to and after reading her very intelligent responses regarding the matter, I’m not going to lie…I felt stupid).  I am sure that this post was not directed at me…but then again, perhaps it was, as I have made ignorant comments regarding color in the past and will probably make the mistake of doing it again.  And here’s why:  Opinions are like assholes…everyone has one.  Before you get mad, hear me out.  We all have preferences.  I prefer a bay gelding, solid, no white, with hard, black feet and a long, thick mane and tail.  Half the time, I could care less how he’s bred or if he has papers.  He could be a solid Appy for all I know or care.  As long as he works and I get along with him, that is all that matters.  However, I currently only own sorrels…maybe one of the most underrated colors there is!  And, I LOVE them both and think they are both gorgeous, smart, athletic, and talented!  One is registered and cowhorse bred and the other is grade and I am not sure what the hell he is.  He is miserable and counterfeit most of the time (maybe a Hancock bred Paint horse…just kidding, another outspoken opinion!), but I love him.  Here’s my point…you CAN’T ride color.  Color doesn’t make the horse.  Just as most of the time, papers don’t make the horse either.  Genetically, my parents could be millionaires and I could turn out to be a broke-ass junkie on welfare with 15 kids.  It’s all in how you raise them.   Furthermore, it doesn’t matter what I think, or what you think, or what he thinks, or she thinks!  I am one person amongst millions who makes tons of mistakes daily.  I don’t have to like what you like.  You don’t have to like what I like.  It is ok to have a difference of opinion.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t give two shits…ok, not even one shit…about other people’s opinions.  But the fact of the matter is if you don’t at least hear other people out, how are you going to make educated decisions?!  There are some things in life that people will never, ever change my mind about.  For example, you can’t make me think spiders are cute.  I don’t care if you think they have feelings.  I will squash the life right out of them!  They are scary and gross.  That is my opinion.  If you want to cover yourself in spiders and take selfies, have at it.  But, you aren’t going to change my mind.  That doesn’t mean I don’t respect or admire you.  I guess what I am getting at here is don’t let differences of opinion keep you from liking or getting to know someone.  We were all created to be unique by a perfect God who gave us hearts to feel and minds to think freely.  Respect the opinions of others.  RESPECT THE OPINIONS OF OTHERS.  No one is asking you to believe as they do.  They are just voicing their thoughts.  Agree to disagree, if you must.

I don’t usually write blog posts that are rant-like, but I just really wanted to get that off of my chest.  It seems like so many people lately get so offended by differences of opinion and it blows my mind!  With that all being said, I wish you all a great rest of the week.  I have been eating this weather up, but alas, that is all about to change in the week to come!  I am hoping to be roping again soon, but with moving and weather and all sorts of other excuses, I am not sure that I will get to it again until spring.  I am using my horses as exercise since I loathe going to the gym (did you know trotting a horse for an hour burns nearly 500 calories?), so at least I am keeping them ridden now.  It will be an easy transition once I find a place to start practicing again.  Happy trails, my friends, and may you be blessed in every way imaginable! 

Is This Bronc Riding or Team Roping?

It was Thanksgiving weekend.  I was feeling very thankful…thankful for all the blessings I have in my life including my ability to own and rope on nice horses.  So why the heck have my horses been sitting for a month and a half with nobody riding them?  I have been going to the chiropractor now for about a month and I was finally starting to feel better.  After a fun night out in Fort Worth, I decided I would wake up and go rope at a little, local jackpot on Sunday.  Because I haven’t been on Kid Rock in over a month and I know how he is, I got up nice and early and saddled him.  Then I went in and showered and ate breakfast and watched the news.  I finally mustered up the nerve to go out and lope him for a while.  I knew I had better lope him down really well before taking him to a jackpot.  He was liable to lawn dart my butt if I just climbed on, rode in the box, said a prayer, and nodded.  After about a good 30 or 40 minute lope job, I loaded him in the trailer, and off we went! 

I started getting a little nervous as I quickly approached Bar B Arena.  What was I thinking!?  I haven’t practiced in months and I haven’t even been on my horse in just as long.  I was still recovering from the last time Kid Rock and I had a little wreck.  Another one like it and I could really be in rough shape!  I am getting entirely too old for this crap!  But, I was already in the parking lot so I might as well treat it like a practice and go have some fun.

First warning should have been when I saw that they raised the entry fees from $60 to $75.  But I entered anyway.  Second warning, they drew me an extra heading run.  I’m now up to $100.  Yeah…I need to probably win my fees back.  I back in the box on my first steer.  My nerves are a little tight, but I’m trying to stay relaxed.  Relaxed rider equals relaxed nag.  I call for my steer and he’s basically a miserable piece of crap, to say the least.  He breaks slow, he runs hard, he runs left, he runs right…I’m just running behind him trying to get a shot with no luck what-so-ever.  First steer and I don’t even get to throw my rope.  Awesome.  I apologize to my heeler.  That was pretty embarrassing, but I’m just glad that I didn’t get bucked off! 

My second steer wasn’t much better than my first, but I roped him and waved it off.  This was turning out to be a spectacular day for me!  Oh, but it gets worse…much worse! 

I call for my third steer.  I break the barrier but I turn him, and my heeler snags a leg.  18.5…not good, but it’s a time and in this roping, 3 down equals money.  My fourth steer is where things went wrong.  I nod my head.  My horse gets out perfect.  I throw my rope.  The steer stops.  I grab a quick dally.  I look back and see I have one horn.  I start to undally.  My horse starts bucking.  And bucking.  And bucking.  I am riding him.  I am trying to pull up his head and get undallied all at the same time.  Pretty soon, I feel myself starting to hang off the side.  I know I can pull myself in the saddle if I could just get rid of this friggin’ rope!!  Too late, I know I’m going down.  I think to myself, “This isn’t too bad.  I’m not going to hit hard.”  I held onto the reins as I hit the dirt on the left side of my mid-back.  Thank God, I didn’t land on my head again!  I didn’t even tweak my neck!  Although I am livid pissed, I am ok.  I think about being really mad at my horse, but he is just standing there looking at me.  He may be an asshole, but he’s not an idiot so I still don’t dislike him.  I get up and instantly feel pain in my back on that left side.  Cracked ribs?  Yep…probably.  I gather myself up and dust myself off.  To belly kick him or not to belly kick him?  That is the question.  Everyone is looking.  Eff it…I belly kick him one time.  He doesn’t even flinch and I feel like even more of a jack ass.  A few people ride up and ask me if I’m ok and I let them know I am.  I may be a little sore, but I am far from too hurt to finish roping.  Besides, I have one down and that’s my only chance at money today.  “Get it together,” I tell myself.  I ride out of the arena away from everyone and give Kid Rock a quick Come-To-Jesus pep talk (better known as an ass whippin’ for all you horse people).

I back in the box to rope my second round steer.  My horse works amazing and we have a clean run.  We are sitting low in the high teams, but I am well aware that the short round typically falls apart at this roping.  Sure enough, the five teams sitting ahead of me miss.  I go out and rope my steer and my heeler snags another leg.  One more team to go.  If they miss, I win the money and the buckle.  What are the odds of that happening?  Get bucked off and then come back to win the same roping?!  Ha!  Just my luck, the last team misses.  I win the roping after being bucked off, breaking out, and having my heeler rope two legs!  Call me Lady Luck! 

It just goes to show you that everyone has bad days.  Sometimes, it’s not just about your skill, but also your luck.  I easily could have ridden out of that arena not just empty handed, but also hurt pretty badly.  But, I kept a positive attitude and had faith in myself and in God, and once again, it proved to be the right thing to do.  God always has your back.  As long as you believe in Him and pray to Him often, He will take care of you.  You have to BELIEVE that He has your best interest at heart.  You have to BELIEVE that HE WILL NOT FORSAKE YOU!  I have stepped up in my ability this year as a roper.  I have taken on a horse that is not as easy as a few of the horses that I have had in the past, but he is a much higher caliber horse.  And although he tests me from time to time, I have won more on him in the short time that I have had him than I have on any other horse.  I don’t know why he does the things he does.  I have had a lot of people say, “There’s too many good horses out there to ride a bad one!”  Well, maybe I’m crazy.  Maybe he will hurt me so bad that I can’t ride anymore.  Hell, maybe he’ll kill me.  But every time you climb on horse, you take that chance.  Every time you get in a car, you take that chance.  Every time you cross the street, you take that chance!  That doesn’t mean you quit doing it!  Obviously, I love a challenge.  Kid Rock is not malicious or stupid.  He is just quirky.  He doesn’t buck super hard and he doesn’t do it continuously.  It’s just once in a while. 

So, I’ll continue to take my chances with my quirky horse because although he sometimes puts me on the “Injured” list, I still love the silly booger.  You have to listen to your own heart.  And that goes for anything in life.  It’s ok to take advice from others, but at the end of the day, you just have to pray about it and make up your own mind.

Roper Girl updates:

I will be going home for Christmas this year.  It will be my first holiday home in 2 years!  I fully intend on enjoying every second possible with my family and friends (not horseback!).

It is confirmed that I will be roping in the Reno Rodeo All Girl this year with Erin Marie Jasper.  We were supposed to rope last year, but unforeseen circumstances made that impossible.  We are fully prepared to enter up and kick butt this year.

I am very sad that I was unable to attend the World Series and NFR in Vegas this year.  I am hoping that if I rope anywhere near as good in 2015 as I did this last year, I will qualify for the World Series and have the opportunity to rope for more money than I have ever dreamed of! 

I intend on hauling Kid Rock out for the All Girl and continuing to rope on Solo as a practice and small jackpot horse.  I would like to start breakaway roping and even heeling on Solo next year.  My idea is to haul Kid Rock out in June and leave him with some friends for a couple of months.  I will then be able to fly out for certain ropings such as Taylorsville over the 4th and my dad's roping in August and not take any days off of work and not have to haul my horse out every time.  This will give me an opportunity to actually ride my own horse at these ropings versus borrowing a horse every time. 

Getting bucked off may have been the best thing for me.  I don't know if it was the combination of months of chiropractic work and hitting the ground just right or what, but after the pain from initially hitting the ground subsided, I felt like a million bucks.  My chiropractor and I both are surprised that I no longer feel any back or neck pain at all since I hit the ground that day.  When I went in for my appointment yesterday, we both were shocked at how easily my back popped and moved (something that we had struggled with for well over a month of appointments!).  Blessings happen in ways that we would never ever expect!

Thank you to all of my avid readers!  Without your support, none of this would be possible!  I am so blessed!

Roper fast, my friends, and have a blessed day!