The Bible, The Barn & The Horses: Trust at the Edge of Touch

Today, my younger mare Waimea reminded me how trust unfolds in layers.  During groundwork, she was calm and connected —lowering her head ,closing her eyes, and melting into my hands as I rubbed her face.  The connection was undeniable.  That part of her loves closeness.  But I learned that she has boundaries.  Those boundaries are likely tied to a past.  The moment my hand drifted down her neck, the peace faded.  She stiffened, tail swishing, tense and unsure.  

It made me think of how I can relate to that wall. It made me think of how we, too often allow God near only in the places that feel safe.  We let him be part of the pieces of us we have already surrendered — the ones that look calm and tidy.  But the deeper parts of us —the ones that ache or have been hurt before —we guard closely - just like my Waimea.  

So much of healing, both for horses and for humans, is learning to stand still in those moments when we want to pull away.  To let love close long enough to trust the intention. To learn to trust again.  

As I worked with her, I didn’t push.  I waited. I let her see that my hand would stay soft, my presence patient.  Slowly her eyes softened again.  She didn’t run —she breathed.  

And then at the very end, she stepped forward and placed her muzzle in my hand.  She just stood there, breathing softly—as if to say, “I trust you now.”

In that quiet moment, I felt the echo of God’s own gentleness —the way He waits at the edge of our fear, never forcing, always inviting. 

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.”—Psalm 32:8