48 Inches

They say some people miss entering heaven by 18 inches, that is, the distance from their head to their heart.  Those are the people who can't live on faith alone, and therefore never receive the abundant blessings that God wants to bestow on them.  They die without realizing that if they'd opened their heart to God and let Him show them the way to live, the struggles of daily life wouldn't have seemed insurmountable.  They die without ever knowing how wonderful it feels to let God take the reins and direct their life.

I guess Belle missed heaven by 48 inches, since the distance from a horse's head to her heart is much greater than a human's.  No, Belle isn't dead, but she has moved on, and she never got to experience the great things that I had planned for her.  I'm obviously not God, nor do I have a God complex, but I did have a plan for Belle, a direction for her life, and abundant blessings that I would have loved to have bestowed on her.  She was fed hay and grain, but she never got to graze in a lush green pasture.  She had a clean and dry area to spend her days in, but she never got to roll in the mud or wade in the gentle stream.  She had room to move around, but she never got to gallop across the huge, hilly field.  She had a pony for a friend, but she never got to run with the herd.  Belle had the basics, but she never had the blessings.

Belle had more belief in her own opinion of how life should be than she had for my knowledge of how life could be better.  She was willing to take basic sustenance from me, but never a feast.  She was willing to let me touch her, but just barely.  She would take my kisses, but she shunned my embrace.  She knew I was real, but she didn't have faith in me.  She could see the rainbow, but she didn't hear the promise.

Maybe it was my fault, maybe I tried too hard, or maybe it just wasn't meant to be.  I've had to take some time away from the barn to recover from a medical procedure that I had in January.  While planning for this time off, I contacted the wonderful gals at the BLM office in Oregon and asked if they could find another trainer to take Belle.  I knew that without daily interaction Belle would regress in her progress to become gentle, and I wanted the best for her, so I was hoping that someone would take the challenge and pick up where I left off.  Fortunately, a very experienced trainer in Oregon stepped up to the plate, and transportation was arranged for Belle.

It's been six weeks since Belle left.  Her new trainer describes her as "bold, but wanting to connect."  I hope that means there's a chance that Belle will put her whole heart, body and soul in the hands of her trainer.  I hope it means she'll live the life she was meant to live.  I hope it means that 48 inches isn't an uncrossable chasm.  And I hope she takes the leap of faith.