My dad’s horse Lady was on the family farm long before I was. She came to him with a load of cattle from Texas when he was a teenager, and she lived beyond normal life expectancy for horses. I made many memories with Lady. And I learned an important lesson from one of her colts.

She was a “late-in-life” mother, so by the time this colt was born, my parents didn’t see the need, or have the desire, to raise another horse. I, on the other hand, thought it was the greatest idea in the world! I wanted the opportunity to own my own horse, raising him from birth. I begged, bargained, and probably even cried a few tears for effect. As the colt grew and the time approached for us to sell him, my dad agreed that I could keep the colt…but!…he would be my responsibility.

Looking back, I know I didn’t wear down my dad. I didn’t “win.” He knew more than I did, and he let me learn a lesson.

I had taken care of many farm animals, bottle-feeding many calves who were abandoned, nursing kittens to healthy, and raising litters of puppies. I’d helped with our horses, so taking care of the colt didn’t seem that different. I spent time in the barn with him and Lady. I found comfort in building relationships with the animals on the farm.

My dad helped me through the first steps of training the colt. We fitted the colt with a halter and let him get used to it, and I began to lead him around. I laid a saddle pad on his back to let him get used to the weight and feel. Eventually, we added the saddle.

My dad had told me I’d be responsible for raising the colt, including the training. I don’t know if it’s because he didn’t want me to get hurt, or if he wanted to see me experience more of the training process, but I realize now that he helped more than he said he would in the beginning. If he hadn’t been there in the early stages of preparing the colt to ride, I wouldn’t have known what to do and couldn’t have managed the weight and energy of the colt.

The day came for me to ride him. I can easily summarize it by telling you that I spent more time on the ground than in the saddle. Of the hour or so we worked in the pasture, I sat in the saddle no more than thirty seconds. I had bruises where I didn’t know I could get bruises.   

And I cried.

My tears weren’t because of the physical pain. I’m fairly tough. The tears were because I learned something that surprised me: I have limits. I can’t do everything just because I want to. Nor should I.

Could I have pushed through the next weeks and months and continued to try? Perhaps. But I suddenly knew training that colt wasn’t something I was going to do. I had (helped) raise him to that point of his life, but someone else would take him through the next steps. 

I planted the seed, and Apollos watered it. But God is the One who made it grow. So the one who plants is not important, and the one who waters is not important. Only God, who makes things grow, is important. 1 Corinthians 3:6-7 (NCV)

Plant when you should plant. Water when you should water. Trust God for the growth.