January 7th, 2018
My saddle. She’s seen many colts, many arenas, trailer rides, miles and most of all, emotions.
She’s handmade. She has imperfections, scars and blemishes. She’s been used, she isn’t perfect and she isn’t ever going to be. She’s damaged, but she isn’t broken.
From bad wrecks with horses, to carrying our American flag, this saddle has seen the good and bad throughout life. I broke my back with this saddle. I succeeded with this saddle. I’ve lost with this saddle…. I have spent many good memories with this saddle….
To me, this saddle is a part of me, a part of my soul is in this saddle.
To others, they probably don’t see the beauty in the craftsmanship. They don’t see the 80 year old man who worked for 6 months on this saddle. Who tooled each and every marking on this sadddle; who hand made this saddle. They don’t see the quality, the craftsmanship, the beauty in this piece of leather.
But this old piece of leather is no different than me.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me. Psalm 23. 1-4