God Still Has a Plan

This morning's ride started exactly the way I like them, quiet, peaceful, and unhurried.

I got up early, fed the mules, fed myself, and after Bella had finished her hay, loaded up and headed to Spruce Mountain. It's one of my favorite places to ride because before you ever start climbing the mountain, there's about two miles of open prairie. It's a place where I can simply enjoy the scenery, listen to the rhythm of Bella's hooves, and let my mind wander. This morning was no different. A light breeze, temperatures in the 70s, and not another soul around.

The night before, though, I'd checked the forecast. There was a chance of thunderstorms around noon, so I planned to be back at the trailer before they arrived.

Coming down off Spruce Mountain, I looked over my shoulder and saw dark clouds building to the west. A few rumbles of thunder confirmed what I already knew, it was time to head home. We still had around four miles to go.

About a mile later, a light drizzle started. I didn't bother pulling out my slicker right away. Anyone who's ridden much knows that's usually the fastest way to make the rain stop. Besides, an oiled canvas slicker gets pretty warm.

The drizzle gradually became steadier, and when it was obvious this storm wasn't going away, I finally stopped long enough to put the slicker on. Looking ahead, I could see another wall of rain moving across the prairie toward me while the thunder and lightning behind me kept getting closer.

There were only a few small trees within a couple of miles.

I asked Bella for a trot. Like most mules, she'll work, but you have to convince her it's worth the effort. We covered maybe a quarter mile before settling back into a walk. About then, the rain really opened up. Bella did what mules always do in a hard rain, she lowered her head and laid her ears back to keep them from filling with water.

It doesn't take much moisture to turn that prairie into slick mud. Bella was already starting to slide here and there, and I knew there was no point asking her to run.

I've had enough close calls in life to know lightning isn't something to take lightly. So, I always get a little nervous when I’m outside in a lightening storm.

For several minutes everything got quiet. I was thinking the rain isn’t so bad, I’ll be at the trailer in a half mile or so.  

Then, without warning, the entire prairie exploded in white light.

The thunder hit at exactly the same instant.

It was deafening.

I never saw the bolt, but judging by the flash and the lack of any delay before the thunder, it couldn't have been more than a hundred yards away.

Bella didn't wait for me to make a decision.

She tucked her hindquarters under herself and headed toward the trailhead at a determined trot. Under normal conditions I probably would have slowed her down, but with lightning striking that close and the ground already slick, I trusted her judgment. She wasn't running recklessly, just moving with purpose.

By now the rain was coming sideways so hard I could barely look up. My sunglasses were covered with water, and all I could do was keep my head down. With one hand holding onto my hat, I was trusting in Bella to find the trail.

Just before the parking area there's a gate. When I'd ridden through that morning, it had been open. Around here the rule is simple: leave a gate the way you found it.

Bella stopped.

I really didn't want to climb off into that muddy mess.

When I looked up, I saw why she'd stopped. What had been a dry crossing a couple of hours earlier was now a fast-moving stream cutting across the trail. I bumped her forward, and she stepped right through it without hesitation.

From there she walked straight to the exact spot where I'd saddled her that morning.

The trailer blocked enough of the wind to offer a little shelter, but there was no chance I was unsaddling her in that downpour. I led her around to the back of the trailer, and we both climbed inside.

We looked like drowned rats.

My slicker had done its job from the knees up, but everything below that was soaked. I pulled out my phone, recorded a quick video for my family to show them how hard it was raining, then leaned against the trailer wall while Bella stood quietly beside me.

I dug into my pommel bag, found a bag of honey-roasted peanuts, and shared them with Miss Bella while we waited for the storm to pass.

Standing there, listening to the rain hammer the roof of the trailer, one thought kept coming back to me.

I was incredibly lucky.

Out on that open prairie, with nothing taller than a mule for miles around, that lightning could just as easily have found us. Someone might have eventually discovered nothing more than the charred remains of a cowboy and his mule.

Instead, I was standing beside Bella, sharing peanuts.

Moments like that remind me how fragile life really is. We make plans, check weather forecasts, and do everything we can to manage the risks, but ultimately our lives are in God's hands.

Maybe today was simply His way of reminding me that He could call me home anytime He chooses, and that every ride is a gift.

Or maybe He was reminding me that He isn't finished with me yet.

Tonight, I'll say an extra prayer of thanks.

Because I believe God still has a plan for me.

And until He says otherwise...

I'll keep riding.