07/15/2026
How two experiences with the same horse changed the way I look at loss, pain, and God's timing.
Lessons from Our Horse, Remy
Over the past year, life has taught me some unforgettable lessons through an unlikely teacher, our horse, Remy.
About nine months ago, after suffering a stroke, I was facing many challenges. During that difficult time, I lost my wedding ring, which was also my late father's white gold wedding ring, engraved to commemorate my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. It was far more than jewelry; it was a priceless connection to my family.
For five months, I searched everywhere. I used a metal detector, sifted through dirt, and every single day I found myself looking at the ground in our backyard, hoping that would be the day I'd find it. Eventually, I surrendered it to God and let go of the burden.
Then, on the Fourth of July, while my wife and I were caring for Remy, I looked down at the entrance to her stall, a place I had walked over hundreds of times. Every time I entered, I found myself looking down at the rubber stall mats. That day, I noticed what first appeared to be an old rusty bottle cap. My wife and I both stared in disbelief as we realized it was actually my wedding ring lying on the mat. The only explanation is that Remy had kicked it up from the dirt where it had been hidden for nine months.
My heart was instantly full again. Sometimes, when we stop searching and trust God's timing, blessings appear in ways we could never imagine.
Just a few days later, while treating Remy's injured hoof, she reacted by kicking and pulling away from the discomfort. At first, I took it personally, but then I remembered something important: horses don't move out of anger, they move away from pain. What a powerful lesson for all of us. So often, people do the very same thing.
The following evening, while tending to Remy again and feeling grateful for what she had done, I wrapped my arms around her neck to thank her. She leaned into me with surprising force, pressing her chin against my neck and shoulder. At first, I thought she was reacting to my treating her wounded hoof. Then I had to pause and remind myself that she wasn't lashing out at me, she was simply reacting to the discomfort and pain, or was it something else, more profound.
The funny thing is that earlier that day I had been planning to visit the chiropractor because my neck, back, and hip were out of alignment. When I went to bed that night, I realized I felt better than I had all day. Somehow, Remy had given me an adjustment of her own.
Coincidence? Maybe.
A blessing? Without a doubt.
This experience reminded me that God's timing is perfect, healing often comes in unexpected ways, and animals sometimes understand far more than we give them credit for.
Thank you, Remy, for helping me find my father's ring, for your unexpected chiropractic care, and for reminding me that some of life's greatest lessons come from the most unexpected teachers.
