
This past Monday, the Barnabas Horse Foundation lost a member of its family, as Katie transitioned into a new body free of pain.
I typically write and publish these blogs within a few hours of sitting down at my desk and while my thoughts were ready to let go, and the paragraphs written, I felt the urge to hold off on posting this particular one...I felt it just needed to sit for a little while longer. I've never had that happen before and at the time, I wasn't sure why I needed to wait this feeling out. However, by Thursday evening, everything became clear.
I don't know all there is to know about her life, but like us, Katie had a story. We met several months ago and as much as I hate to admit it, I didn't really "see" her initially. She was so quiet and reserved that if you didn't know she was there, you may overlook her. She blended in, did her own thing and always seemed to be methodical in her path, unless, of course, another horse was moving her.
It wasn't until about a month or so ago that I really began to "see" Katie. We only shared physical space a couple of times, but it was the connection with her from a distance that called out. Her presence, though quiet, was subtly strong and compassionate.
What began as an awareness of her presence within the fence, soon gave way to immediately looking for her as I drove in, glancing around during sessions just to see if I could locate her and...knowing her whereabouts as I left.
Katie wasn't just a horse. Katie was a mystic. She had this spirituality about her...this deep connection with both creation and creator. She was so much larger than her stature. This unexplainable energy radiated from her and it was captivating to watch and to feel. From grazing, to simply standing and observing her surroundings was nothing short of being in the presence of someone greater than ourselves and recognizing it. She just had something special and it was obvious. Our relationship was not a physical one, as I rarely stood in her space, but my connection with her was a spiritual awakening from a distance. Just to see her, always made me think and feel on a much deeper level.
It had been ten days since I last saw her. So, I wondered as I drove back to the farm on Thursday how I would feel as I entered the gate. And just like every other day, I looked for her. During our session, I would catch myself looking through the fence trying to catch a glimpse of her and then I remembered...
Jenn asked if I wanted to hear about Katie's transition...I did...I needed closure. As a former paramedic, sometimes death is traumatic and sometimes death can be a beautiful part of life. And as Jenn's words revealed Katie's last moments, I could picture the peace and the divine spirituality of this amazing girl transitioning home...and as she always had, she continued to teach, to hold space and to love her herd and her humans til the end...
I'm sad. But as our session continued on, I found Katie in every aspect of the farm.
She was in the green blades of grass...in the bunches of buttercups and clover.
She was in the warmth of the sun.
She whispered in the gentle breeze, "I am here."
She was in the vastness of the blue open sky.
She was standing alone by the barn.
She was among her herd and her humans.
She was in the stillness of the moment.
She was still keeping watch...
Here, she will always be. I don't think I will ever stop looking for her, but I will be able to remember her and always be thankful that she crossed my path at a time when I was lost and needed to know God's grace and love. Thank you Katie...
~Parker
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