In addition to completing her senior year of high school, and training a brand-new puppy, our daughter is now part of the 4-H organization. She’s late in the game, but her horseback riding trainer encouraged her to join since she’s only eligible until the end of this school year.
Last weekend, she participated in an event with 50 other youth. They had her all decked out in a fancy jacket, and she was thrust into the arena to employ what little she’s had the chance to learn about hippology (from the Greek words hippos [horse] and logos [study]). I was impressed that she was willing to go. Having been given only one week to study this stuff, she was in there with the big guns. I elected not to go watch her; she had informed us it would be boring for spectators: she’d just be taking tests and judging physical attributes of horses; no riding.
In the past, she was far too introverted for such things (I had suggested 4-H before); but she’s growing up (right before my eyes), and is holding her own famously.
She adores animals, and it’s great to see her doing something she loves. Sometimes I get concerned, though. At lessons recently, her horse went down (and she along with him). She’s fine, but it could have gone either way. With all this exposure to large animals, I pray for her wisdom and safety.
The friend I mentioned yesterday (where we took our puppy to visit) was like my daughter; raised by suburbanites, always wanting to be a country girl. When she grew up and was on her own, she got her own horses. In fact, this year she offered Lily one; we declined—decided to go with the puppy instead. (My vote’s still out on which one’s more trouble.)
I can imagine Lily some day, driving a Jeep full of doggies, or tending horses in her little barn. In the meantime, though, I’m going to see to it that, amidst all this doggie duty and horsie pucky, this little lady gets her school work done.