The Story of Glory

By: Dan Kirkland

When I was searching for a miniature horse to buy and train for our equine therapy program I drove from Dallas to Beaumont to look at a miniature horse named Glory. When I arrived in Beaumont the tiny three-month-old filly was alone in her stall, having just recently been removed from her mother for the first time. She was just old enough to begin eating solid food. She was afraid, pacing to and fro and whinnying sadly for her mother. I entered the stall with the lady who owned her. Glory stood close to her and settled quickly. I looked the little miniature horse over and decided that with proper training she just might be the right horse to use with children in my counseling practice.

I made the deal with the lady, wrote a check, and then placed a halter on Glory. She was afraid. She had never been led before. Nor had she ever left the comfort of familiar surroundings, equine friends, and her mother. I led her out of the barn. Immediately her mother ran close to the fence that separated her from Glory and nickered a sad good-bye.

I physically lifted Glory into the dark, cold trailer attached to my truck and closed the heavy metal door. When the door slammed shut I could hear her pawing and panting. But, I did not listen to her. I did not take into consideration what she was asking from me.

Several times on the nine-hour journey home I heard Glory whinny, no doubt calling her mother. My mind was on the road and on the 18 hours of driving. Occasionally I stopped to peak into the trailer to see how Glory was doing. I reached in to touch her and she quickly moved away from my hand. When we arrived in Dallas I opened the trailer. Glory saw a brand new world. A world with no mother, lady caretaker, familiar barn or pasture, and no well-known equine buddies.

My family led Glory out of the trailer and embraced her with soft hugs, kisses, and a gentle back rub. She made friends with them instantly. She hovered near them. She leaned into their bodies for comfort. She nervously allowed them to show her the new home we had prepared and the other horses that would soon befriend her. Although she readily gave my family her friendship, she was repelled by my very presence.

Even now, Glory treats my family like royalty. She runs across the pasture to greet them. She lingers by their sides. They literally move her out of their way in order to walk in the pasture, at times. She loves them deeply, and they love her. She loves to be with them.

But, Glory treats me differently. She is tentative in approaching me. She rarely allows me to approach her. I am as kind to her as my family is when she allows me to be with her, and I give her respect and love. I feed her a special mix of feed, I trim her hooves to keep her feet healthy and her legs sound. I give her baths and brush her mane and tail. I give her the best of veterinary care, and make certain that she is healthy and safe. I provide a very nice life for her. I am a very good friend to Glory. But, Glory is not always sure she wants me to be her friend.

When I take Glory to schools and churches to work with children, she stays close by my side. If I take a step she takes a step. She leans against me as I speak to the children. She acts as if I am her very best friend. And, in those moments, with a room full of strangers, I am her only friend. So, she clings to me. But, when we get back home, she does not befriend me. She has other, better friends at the barn.

The story of Glory is the story of divorce and relationships. When she was a baby I disrupted her life by taking her from familiar surroundings and people and friends she loved. I have provided an even better life for her. But, to Glory, that does not matter. She is angry with me and has trouble believing that I have her best interest in mind. With time this will change. Children who live through divorce feel those same feelings. And, with time, their feelings can change.

When I moved Glory from Beaumont to Dallas, I did not take into consideration her needs. I wanted to get there as quickly as possible and get home even more quickly. I wish I had stopped more often, allowed her to get out of the trailer and stretch, and provided her some nurturing and treats. I cannot go back and change that. But, I can do things differently now. I work diligently to allow Glory to see me as a friend, showing kindness, putting no pressure on her, and rewarding every move toward befriending me.

Parents cannot change what they have done in the past. All of the wishing in the world will change nothing. But, parents can start fresh today doing what the child needs to do to heal.

When Glory and I visit schools she still clings to me. Sometimes any friend is better than no friend, I guess. The room is full of strangers. I am the only one she knows, so she allows me to be her friend. Sometimes friends are like that.

Glory teaches children about friendship. Glory teaches parents how to take care of the emotional needs of children. If we listen to horses they can teach us many things.

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