I pray the day finds you well.
As I wrote about the screw-driver incident of 1974, it brought back memories. One of my favorite memories was about a horse; this was a very special horse that I grew to love very much.
Back on the farm, we had a horse named Tinker. She was half quarter horse and Half Shetland pony.
I guess that is why I had a dog that was half golden retriever and half basset hound.
I seemed to be drawn to the unusual.
Tinker was the horse that all the kids learned to ride on. She was a great kid horse.
Looking back, I was fortunate to have been able to learn on Tinker. Tinker had her quirks, though. She did not like saddles, so we all learned to ride bareback.
Dad would put us on her back, and she would start walking.
At first, just staying on her back at all was hard.
She would walk along, and before long, I would start to slide off to one side. Tinker would feel me sliding, and she would begin to walk almost sideways, twisting her back in a vain attempt to keep me from falling off.
By the time I slid down one side or the other, she would be at a complete stop with her back twisted as far to whichever side I had fallen, giving me the classic Tinker look.
There I would be laying on my back, on the ground, and she would crank her head around and look me straight in the eyes as if to say, "Moron, get up and get back on." I would get back on, which by the way, resembled nothing like the cowboy movies with the cowboy throwing a leg over like a gymnast and riding off into the sunset; no, a kid grabs anything he can hang onto and kind of jumps the best he can and then scrambles and kicks his way back onto the horse. It is quite a process, really.
Tinker would stand there patiently, allowing me to pull her mane, kick her belly, lay on my stomach, pull a leg over, and finally sit on her back. She would wait for me to get ready and then start walking again.
I would fall off, and the process would start all over again.
When we got the walking part down, Tinker would start trotting training. Tinker must have had 15 different trots. No matter how hard I would kick her or say, "Come on, Tinker, let's go." Tinker would just trot a little faster. I don't know if you have ever ridden a horse, but trotting bareback is like sitting on top of a jackhammer. Have you ever seen a baby bouncing on a grampa's knee? That is what I am sure I looked like.
It is not very comfortable, but Tinker was a kid trainer.
She would trot, I would fall off, she would give me the look, and I would scramble back on.
After I mastered the trot, Tinker moved on to cantering and finally galloping.
I was always amazed, we could be half a mile from the house, and she would just stand there waiting for this goofy kid to get up and back on.
The other horses would have bolted to the barn, free of their encumbrances.
Tinker finally taught me how to ride. By the time she got done with me, I could ride just about any horse. They would try to get me off, but I would sink into their withers like I had crazy glue on my butt.
As I wrote about dad and the red-handled screwdriver, I thought about Tinker.
I thought about how patient she was with me.
I thought how I might never have been able to learn to ride if she had not taken the time to teach me, really teach me, not just go through the motions.
As I thought about tinker, I thought about the YMCA.
I thought about how we have the opportunity to teach kids, adults, and families how to become whole. Really teach them, not just go through the motions. Psychiatrists would call it self-actuated. I thought, what a tremendous responsibility it is.
Tinker taught me how to be patient.
Tinker taught me that everyone is learning something.
I will try to do a better job of emulating Tinker.
I wonder how often Jesus felt like Tinker. Teaching people, watching them fall and get back up. He never left them either.
I bet Jesus feels like Tinker with me too. He never leaves me either.
Did you ever have a Tinker in your life?
Something to ponder.
Blessings,
Roger
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