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~ Welcome
to Stories of Heart! ~ Tour our archives: http://geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/Archives.htm ________________________________________________________ “There are better ways to go through life than being pulled through it kicking and screaming.” - Hugh Prather ______________________________________ WHOA,
HORSE, WHOA Now my choice of God’s animal kingdom is the dog. I’ve always loved them. Like God they love unconditionally. Hold the word DOG to a mirror, and you will see the reflection GOD. We’ve had our share of other animals through the years. While the kids were home, we tried the whole slate of Pet Store critters. We’ve had hamsters, white mice, rabbits, birds, cats, fish, and turtles, even baby chickens. We never lived on a farm though so we never had a horse. But I rode one once. Well, three times actually. Every time it was an experience! When I was a kid, a couple that went to our church lived on a farm. They often invited us kids in our M.Y.F. youth group out to enjoy farm life. They would have wiener roast, hayrides, and show us around the farm. The first time I ever touched the udders on a cow was at Mr. Bise’s Farm! I never did like milk – now I know why! Mr. and Mrs. Bise had a horse. We kids always wanted to ride that big, old auburn-red horse. So Mr. Bise chose Sunday afternoon, and we all gathered in his barnyard waiting our turn. By the time he got the horse all dressed, I was growing impatient. A blanket, saddle, stirrups, bit, bridle, reins. Of course, he already had on his shoes! It seemed pretty simple, I thought, as I anxiously waited. All I had to do was get on him, take hold of the reins, and tell him to “Getty-up!” “I want to go first!” I said. Mr. Bise obliged. “How do I get up there?” I asked. “Put your foot up there in the stirrup and swing your leg over his back.” Well, after a couple of tries I was sitting high in the saddle ready to go! “How do I get him to go? Why won’t he start? How do I make him go that way? How do you get him to turn? Getty-up, horse, getty-up! He won’t go! What’s the matter with this dumb horse anyway?!” Mr. Bise, with a smile on his face, gave me a few quick instructions and gave the horse a pat on his hindquarters. OFF I WENT! Down the hill we went as fast as that horse could gallop! I went down when the horse up - we met somewhere in mid-air - time after time - again and again! My rump was feeling every inch of the pounding! “HELP, HELP! STOP THIS HORSE!” I saw the lake coming up. “HELP, HELP! WHAT’A I DO? WHOA, HORSE, WHOA! STOP - THEN - STOP!” Well, let me tell you by the time I managed to get that horse back up the hill in front of the barn, my rump felt like it had been run over by a wild horse stampede! The next time I got in the saddle was a good many years later, and I had matured somewhat. After my kids tried their hand at the reigns, I decided I had added enough padding to my hips to survive a pounding in the saddle. Well, it was not my hips that time that posed a problem. I not only had added poundage to my backside, but my bra size had increased. My children and the adults, watching my horse-riding abilities, picked themselves up off the ground laughing so hard after I dismounted. “We thought you were going to give yourself a black eye!” they said. Then there was the last time a few years back when I pulled up beside the mountain-climbing horse on my three-wheeled motorized scooter and asked, “How am I going to manage this?” “Hold on! We’ll get you a ladder!” Well, I am sure the horse had no idea what Multiple Sclerosis was, but I’m sure he had met up with City Slickers before. Also, by that time I had added enough feed to my backside that it wasn’t going anywhere, so I didn’t have to worry about it bouncing up off of the saddle. My horse climbed surefooted too, so as not to put a bounce to the two mountains topside that he carried. But as I got help dismounting and climbed down the ladder, I do believe I heard a sigh of relief under that horse’s breath! Are you beginning to see why dogs are my favorites? They walk alongside my scooter, they don’t care how many extra pounds I have gained, and they know what STOP means! I am thankful for all God’s creatures He created, but – I’m sticking with DOGS!
________________________________________________________ Find out
how Roger Dean Kiser, Sr., is using his life to spell ________________________________________ QUOTE FROM LESSER KNOWN FOLKS Stephen can get pretty creative in the culinary arts. Having run out of our favorite marinade, he cooked a roast in vegetarian alphabet soup in our toaster oven. The meat turned out surprisingly tender. “Mmmm-mmm!” was two-year-old Madison’s verdict, rubbing her tummy. “You’re the best cooker in the universe, Dad!” seven-year-old Cody proclaimed. “Yeah!” four-year-old Matthew said. “The best in the west!” “I love this food so much I want to marry it!” Ethan said. ________________________________________ FAMILY LOVE MOMENT It was late when I came home from work. Cold and bone-weary, I got out of my car in the dark and watched Stephen preparing dinner in the upper-story window in our makeshift kitchen. I thought of the countless times I came home to home-cooked meals, thanks to my domestic God. Suddenly— “I LOVE YOU, YOU LOVE ME!” I sang out. “WE’RE A HAPPY FAMILY! WITH A GREAT BIG HUG…” By the time I was finished serenading my family with the Barney song, Stephen and our kids plastered their faces in the window, grinning and waving at their lunatic mother. Funny. I didn’t seem so cold and bone-weary after all. ________________________________________ FROM OUR FRIENDLY E-MAIL CARRIER In
response to “A Foiled Assassination Attempt” by Dafna Yee What a lucky family! It's reassuring to hear stories of human kindness like this come out of such a horrific period in history! I really enjoy reading these stories each week--keep up the good work! Thank you! - Jackie Theriot ________________________________________ ON THE HOMEFRONT Our first-grader, Ethan, had been complaining about not being able to see the board at school. On a whim, while Ethan and I were at Wal-mart, we stopped by one of those tables that offered free eye exams. “Does he know his alphabet?” the bored-looking examiner asked. “Yes, he does,” I said quite proudly. Ethan sat down and glued his head to the optician’s viewfinder. The lady said tiredly, “Read the fifth line for me.” He sat there and he sat there, not saying a word. “Ethan?” I asked. “Can you see the letters?” “Yeah,” he said. He continued his wordless stance. “Ethan, please read the fifth line like the lady said.” Finally— “B-b-b-q-q-r—“ he began. Then with sheer frustration, he tore himself away from the viewfinder and said, “Mom? I just can’t get it. This word is too hard.” _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________
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