What I Learned From A Ranch Horse,
Might Be All I Need In Life
As I find society today, we have created a people who are self centered. Most are looking for ways to make great sums of wealth, power or prestige, or maybe all three. It does not matter who they feed off of or who they take advantage of (most often the good hearted). They give tokens for what they use, and assume that it is theirs to use permanently for that small token. There is no real honesty or loyalty, just the appearance of such, once they have used or emptied the source it is discarded as if it is useless. Those people are treated as good ol boys as long as they fit within the scheme and the moment, when they are not they’re just that S. O. B. that exist within their presence.
So This is what I learned from ranch horses, I've had.
1. If I'm in charge. Something or someone has put me or let me be in control.
2. If I'm in control, I must be trusted.
3. What ever I ask, they'll give.
4. Trust and loyalty is everything.
5. Don't ask for more than I have authority over.
6. If I expect loyalty, I must give it.
7. If I expect trust, I must give it.
8. Never ask more of a horse (or a person) than they have permission, ability or authority to give.
9. Take care of what you have power over, they'll take care of you.
10. If you use too much power / they still have power to rebel.
11. When you swim the river, don't just flow with the current, it'll take you down, the same will happen in life.
12. If you curb a horse too much, he can't give you all he has.
13. If you curb a horse too often, you eventually kill his spirit.
14. If you misjudge his abilities or strength, you cripple him.
15. If you misuse your power you can cripple yourself.
16. If you humble yourself to the horses strength, he'll submit to your authority.
17. If you comfort your horse at the end of the day, he'll always forgive.
18. Always pay in full what your horse has been worth today, it'll pay dividends.
19. At the end of the day, no matter how hard the day, how bad the episode, or how difficult the trail, your horse will let you lay your head on his withers for comfort and he'll just stand there.
20. When it's come to the point that, that old horse is worn out, you don't just shoot him. You turn him out to pasture and care for him as you would an old friend, HE'S SPENT HIS TIME CARING FOR YOU.
© 2009 Merle Roehr
Visions
Standing here in hopes,
living there in dreams.
We sometimes live stagnate lives,
floating down emptying streams.
It’s time to do what we dream,
take hold of life and live.
Work towards the hope we have,
take hold of the things, He gives.
There’s hope for those who look,
a vision there, that lies ahead.
To give those there a life,
instead of living as if their dead.
© 2009 Merle Roehr
Longhorns
Glistening ivory reaching high.
Blackened points turned to sky.
Hooves like iron, tempered by dirt.
A fog of dust, ‘round them skirt.
They run and charge and travel hard.
The ground a shaking, scattering rocks and chard.
Pushed in a herd, from ‘round their flank.
The ol cowboy’s heart, within him sank.
The herd he’d gathered, had found a hole.
It’s all through life, they’ve tormented his soul.
They’ve beat his horse into the ground.
They’ve turned his skin a sun beaten brown.
The herd he’d managed were never his own.
On the open prairie, they were to roam.
The beast, on him, had taken toll.
They’ve spent their life to torment his soul.
Oh, he’d never had it another way.
A longhorn’s trail, was just enough pay.
Even the days, after he’s died.
After them on a horse he’ll ride.
© 2009 Merle Roehr
An old Cowboy’s Standards
dedicated to Rickie Bingham
There’s a set of standards, others seldom see.
We’ve seen all our life, they were set for you and me.
We’ll get through life with understanding, it’s rough and long and hard.
We know that to survive within it, we’ll have to play all our cards.
Now we’re the sons and daughters of those men, others oft pursue.
And those who find their selves in our world, to those standards, must be true.
There are those who find us crazy, by the standards that we live.
Most cannot understand, it’s also the standards by which we give.
We’ll work and strive by the standards, which within us, burns.
We expect those around us always, to live the same in return.
Now we’re the sons and daughters of those men, others oft pursue.
And those who find their selves in our world, to those standards, must be true.
It sometimes is a lonesome road, we find our selves going down.
But it’s a set of higher standards, we’ve found our selves to be bound.
Now if you wish to pursue that one, who by these standards live.
You must look within your self, is it the standards by which you’ll give?
Now we’re the sons and daughters of those men, others oft pursue.
And those who find their selves in our world, to those standards, must be true.
© 2009 Merle Roehr
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The reason for child care and house parents
What’s a Life Worth?
This book is so important to me that I am willing to share my feelings and the children who have been in our care. There are no names, nor are there any instances that will expose them to others. They are the innocent ones here in these instances. The episodes here are truthfully represented, and the feelings I sometimes have, are blunt and honest. If you take on the work, you are bound to have some of the same feelings. My feelings are sometimes not the portrait of a Christian, BEING in the manner of Christ. They are, however, feelings of a man of Christ, who has let the human way of thinking creep in. I have tried to always let God help me push these feelings aside and deal with them in a Christian manner. I would not lead you to believe that it was easy or that it did not take time.
#1
She came to us that evening. We had been expecting her for three or four days. We thought we were prepared; we always try, yet we really never are. We did not know what the experience would be like; you never do. We did not know what the situation would be, nor what it had been. She stood in the door with a parent, silhouetted against the spring sky. She was there with long, stirred black hair; her dirty hands hung to her side with a bottle. There were tears streaming down her face, leaving clean streaks where they had trailed and fell on the one nasty blouse she had. She was less than three and had already experienced this before. I raised her face to speak to her, all I could see was that long lost look in those deep brown eyes. She was a beautiful child, but none of it had ever been let out. The best I could tell is that no one had ever cared. There were no formalities. Those had all been handled the week before. There were no warnings or preparations for what was to come next. Her mother hugged her, said goodbye, and left. She was fear struck, weeping uncontrollably. To her there was no consolation. She was abandoned.
We work first to help her adjust and trust and just be three years old. I never ask or demand that a child call me daddy or father. At that age however, kids want a daddy and a mother. I have become a daddy to that child and do what daddies do. I aggravate and tease and try to teach her that parents are for support, but she still has doubt. The next statement is completely off the wall. In the excitement of play, I tell her she’s, ugly, only in jest and fun and out of forgetfulness. I am the one taken in surprise, with one simple statement “I KNOW.” I was embarrassed, hurt, shattered, I had caused her pain. I spent the next moments in an apology and telling her how beautiful and wonderful she was. I never wanted her to forget it and I never wanted her to let anyone tell her differently. It might come as a surprise, but I continued to play that game with her. I would call her ugly, but now she knew it was a game and she knew the answer. She would always counter with a loud adamant “I NOT.” She has become beautiful and confident in herself. She has lived with us ten years. We have become parents to her. There is one note, I have never had one child who does not still want their real mother. It is the way God makes us. It is natural that a child has a birth bond. These are things we may not understand, but they are there. We all have that bond, and it is instinct. In a perfect world that’s as it should be.
This book is so important to me that I am willing to share my feelings and the children who have been in our care. There are no names, nor are there any instances that will expose them to others. They are the innocent ones here in these instances. The episodes here are truthfully represented, and the feelings I sometimes have, are blunt and honest. If you take on the work, you are bound to have some of the same feelings. My feelings are sometimes not the portrait of a Christian, BEING in the manner of Christ. They are, however, feelings of a man of Christ, who has let the human way of thinking creep in. I have tried to always let God help me push these feelings aside and deal with them in a Christian manner. I would not lead you to believe that it was easy or that it did not take time.
#1
She came to us that evening. We had been expecting her for three or four days. We thought we were prepared; we always try, yet we really never are. We did not know what the experience would be like; you never do. We did not know what the situation would be, nor what it had been. She stood in the door with a parent, silhouetted against the spring sky. She was there with long, stirred black hair; her dirty hands hung to her side with a bottle. There were tears streaming down her face, leaving clean streaks where they had trailed and fell on the one nasty blouse she had. She was less than three and had already experienced this before. I raised her face to speak to her, all I could see was that long lost look in those deep brown eyes. She was a beautiful child, but none of it had ever been let out. The best I could tell is that no one had ever cared. There were no formalities. Those had all been handled the week before. There were no warnings or preparations for what was to come next. Her mother hugged her, said goodbye, and left. She was fear struck, weeping uncontrollably. To her there was no consolation. She was abandoned.
We work first to help her adjust and trust and just be three years old. I never ask or demand that a child call me daddy or father. At that age however, kids want a daddy and a mother. I have become a daddy to that child and do what daddies do. I aggravate and tease and try to teach her that parents are for support, but she still has doubt. The next statement is completely off the wall. In the excitement of play, I tell her she’s, ugly, only in jest and fun and out of forgetfulness. I am the one taken in surprise, with one simple statement “I KNOW.” I was embarrassed, hurt, shattered, I had caused her pain. I spent the next moments in an apology and telling her how beautiful and wonderful she was. I never wanted her to forget it and I never wanted her to let anyone tell her differently. It might come as a surprise, but I continued to play that game with her. I would call her ugly, but now she knew it was a game and she knew the answer. She would always counter with a loud adamant “I NOT.” She has become beautiful and confident in herself. She has lived with us ten years. We have become parents to her. There is one note, I have never had one child who does not still want their real mother. It is the way God makes us. It is natural that a child has a birth bond. These are things we may not understand, but they are there. We all have that bond, and it is instinct. In a perfect world that’s as it should be.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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