SS14U2(AT)aol.com wrote:
> This story proves that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of man.
> Enjoy!! (Especially Jenny) From Suzi in Seattle
>
> SADDLE THERAPY
>
> One morning, as I lay in bed, I watched sparrows peck at the feeder
> outside my window, then flap their wings and soar away. Stricken with MS, a
> disease that destroys muscle control, I could barely lift my head.
> I wish I could fly away with you, I thought sadly. At thirty-nine, it seemed
> my joy-filled life was gone.
> I've always loved the outdoors. My husband, Dan, and I had loved to
> take long walks near our home in Colorado Springs. But some time in my mid-
> twenties, my joints began to ache after our hikes. I thought it was just sore
> muscles.
> Motherhood, a dream fulfilled with the adoption of Jenny, eleven, and
> Becky, thirteen, made me jubilant. But as eager as I was to be a great mom, I
> would just flop on the couch after work as a recreational therapist, too tired
> to help the girls with homework. I figured it was just exhausting being a
> working mom.
> Then one morning I tried to reach for the coffeepot & couldn't; my arm
> was numb. What's happening? I thought in alarm. One doctor prescribed
> a pain reliever for bursitis. Another diagnosed tendonitis.
> Then one day I was out walking with my daughters when my legs buckled.
> Mom, what's wrong with you, frightened Becky asked.
> "I must really be tired," I joked, not wanting to upset the girls. But
> now I was deeply worried. At Dan's urging, I saw a neurologist.
> "You have multiple sclerosis", he told me. All I could think of was a
> slogan I once heard, "MS-crippler of young adults" Please no! I anguished.
> Blinking back tears I asked," How bad will it get?"
> "We can't say for sure," he said gently. "But in time, you may need a
> wheelchair."
> Though Dan tried to console me, that night I lay sleepless. How will I
> care for myself and my family?
> That fearful question echoed in my mind over the next weeks and months.
> As time passed, I could walk only by using a painful process of locking a knee
> and forcing the stiff leg forward with my hip muscle. Then
> at other times, my legs grew numb, refusing to respond at all. I steadily
> lost control of my hands, until I could barely make my fingers work.
> "It's ok, Mom, we can help," the girls would say. And they did.
> But I wanted to be caring for them. Instead, I could barely get dressed
> and wash a few dishes in the morning before collapsing, exhausted, into bed.
> The morning when I lay watching the birds, wishing I, too, could fly
> away, my heart felt heavy. Hope was dying in me.
> Then I saw Dan come in, his eyes alight. "Honey", Dan said, "I heard
> something amazing on the radio." A nearby stable was offering something called
> therapeutic horseback riding. The technique reportedly helped with many
> ailments, including MS. "I think you should give it a try", he said.
> Riding as therapy? It sounded impossible. Still, as a child, in Iowa,
> I
> loved to ride. And even if it just gets me out of bed, it'd be worth it.
> "I'm gonna fall on my face," I joked a few days later, as Dan helped
> me struggle on canes to the stables. I needed help getting on the horse, but
> as I gripped the reins and began circling the riding arena, my body
> relaxed.
> "This is great", I exulted. When my ride was over, I told Dan I couldn't
> wait to try again. Each time I rode,my hips felt looser and my shoulders
> became more relaxed. I knew something was happening. At home, I didn't feel
> hopeless anymore. I wasn't tired all the time, I realized happily.
> One afternoon, I told the riding-center volunteers I would like to ride
> bareback, the way I had as a child. As I galloped across the pasture, the
> wind tossing my hair, I thought, For the first time in years, I feel free!
> Then, as Dan helped me off the horse, something seemed different.
> "I can feel my legs again," I gasped to Dan. Dan watched, amazed, as I
> picked up my leg, then easily and smoothly placed it down again.
> It had taken me thirty minutes with two canes to reach the stables from
> my car. But the return walk took less than three minutes-and Dan carried the
> canes! "You did it!" he cheered. Tears of joy welled in my eyes.
> Soon after, my daughters came home from college for a visit. I walked
> over and hugged them.
> "Mom, look at you!" Becky cried. With an overflowing heart, I told them
> how the horses had healed me. My doctors cannot explain why the horse therapy
> works. All I know is that, somehow, it does.
> Today I remain nearly symptom-free as long as I ride three times a week.
> Each morning I bundle up and set off on a long, brisk walk. Breathing
> in the fresh mountain air around my home, I feel a special rush of joy. I'm
> so grateful God has given me back my life.