Beauty From Ashes

"There’s something about the outside of a horse….."

Those of you who are horse-lovers probably already know the ending of Sir Winston Churchill’s quote, and would nod your head in agreement with the remaining words. I know that’s what I did the first time I heard them. By the time the rest of you finish reading this, I hope to at least give you a glimpse into the feelings behind those words.

Around nine o’clock on the morning of January 22, 2004, the Enemy declared all-out war on our family, striking at the core of so much of what we hold most dear. While we have much to be thankful for – most importantly that all 5 of us were physically protected – we’ve also suffered a huge loss and our hearts are broken.

Brian had left for work that morning, and the kids and I were still asleep when a neighbor ran into the house shouting that our barn was on fire. The moments that followed unfolded like a nightmare as we ran outside to see flames and smoke pouring from the building that held our beloved horses, Shily and Casper.

Maybe it should have been obvious from first glance that we were too late to save the horses, but we just couldn’t accept that reality. The neighbor – bless his heart – got the garden hose and tried to spray the flames. I ran to the back stall door and tried over and over again to find the handle and get the door opened. In my mind’s eye, I can see it all as if I was watching from some other place… Hannah standing in the snow with bare feet, wearing little more than the T-shirt she had just been sleeping in, panic in her eyes as she screamed over and over, "They can’t be gone! They can’t be gone!"… Noah standing alone in the kitchen crying and shaking as he looked at the fire that he was sure was coming to the house next…Alex’s heart breaking as he stood there helpless to do anything, but wanting so much to protect the other kids and me …the girls from next door running through the field to try to help, then crying and apologizing that they couldn’t do more…me groping for the door handle for what seemed like forever, screaming out over and over a desperate prayer that was little more than, "Jesus help me! I can’t get it open! I can’t get it open!" then sobbing as I realized that we were not going to get our sweet horses out of that fire. The images have literally brought me to my knees in grief several times over the last few days. What we actually saw with our eyes was horrible enough, but what we’ve imagined was probably even worse. I’ve sobbed uncontrollably as I think about what the horses might have gone through.

The horses had come to our farm just 4 short months ago, yet their arrival into the family has forever changed our lives. For Hannah and I, they were like cement that would bind our hearts together in a whole new way. We spent hours dreaming of them before they arrived. On the day they were delivered to us, we laughed over the way Hannah’s feet hardly touched the ground. The pictures that we have from that day show her in mid-air, her hair flying out to the sides as she jumped up and down in sheer excitement. She and I slept in the barn for the first three nights after we got them – often waking up several times to drink in the sight of our very own horses in our very own barn. One of those nights we set up the TV and watched a horse movie together with another of Hannah’s horse-crazy friends. At one point, Casper heard the horses in the movie and he whinnied back to them, then stared at the screen for more than 10 minutes.

So many times over the last 4 months, one of us would say to the other, "Can you believe it?! We actually have horses!" We could often be found in the barn, brushing them, feeding them, or simply burying our noses in their sweet-smelling coats. In the short time they were with us, Hannah and I shared the joy of training them, of watching them change from frightened creatures to trusting partners. Just two days before the fire, I had gone out for an hour, running with them in the pasture and laughing at the sight of Casper jumping and kicking. I’ll never forget the memory that I shared with Shily that morning. After she and I walked around for a while, we stopped in the sunshine and I crouched next to her sweet face. She looked at me for a minute, then nuzzled right up to my cheek, her warm breath blowing across my face – to me that’s a horse’s way of giving a hug. I remember thinking that life doesn’t get much better than times like that. The joy in my heart spilled over as I gave her a kiss, scratched her head, and told her how much I loved her. I had no idea that would be our last moment like that together.

Friday morning found Hannah and I hugging and crying together for hours as we recalled every precious memory of our time with Shily and Casper. We may be grieving with hope, but oh, how we’re grieving! Brian has struggled with the question of why it happened when he was gone… why the kids and I were the ones who had to face the terror and the heartache, the helplessness of not being able to do anything. When he shared that heartache with me the night after the fire, I felt like God gave me the answer to that question immediately. I told Brian that God knows his heart even better than I do, and that He knows Brian would quite literally walk through fire for any one of his family or friends, but especially for the kids and me. There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that when Brian saw the hearts of his wife and his little girl breaking, he would have tried to save those horses for us, and he would most likely have died trying. The overwhelming grief we’re feeling right now could have been multiplied so many times over had Brian been here.

In an earlier paragraph I referred to this fire as a declaration of war by the Enemy. Our family firmly believes this was a calculated, vicious attack leveled at us because of the path down which the Lord has been leading us. The horses, as some of you know, were part of a bigger plan, a bigger vision that God planted in our hearts not too long ago. That dream is to begin a Christian Youth Ranch that would minister to hurting kids through what one of our friends calls "angels in horsehair".

The days leading up to the fire were filled with excitement and anticipation as our family took the next steps toward moving the ranch from a dream to a reality. We had just settled upon the name for the ministry – Psalm 91 Youth Ranch – and were preparing to begin the paperwork that would secure non-profit status. Each day took our enthusiasm to a higher level as we became more and more convinced of God’s plans for the ranch. We had turned things over to the Lord, and were prepared to let Him call all of the shots, no matter what it meant for our family. If He wanted us to give something up, we were willing. If He asked us to sacrifice, we were ready. It seemed we had all reached a point where we had loosened our grip on the "things" of this world, and knew that what mattered most were the relationships – primarily with God, and right after that, with other people. If God was going to ask us to lay everything else down for the sake of those two things, we felt we were prepared to do so. We had taken that proverbial leap of faith. And so the battle began.

The nature of the attack that morning was cruel and calculated. The Enemy figured he’d found our Achilles’ heel, and he went for it with no holds barred. Knowing that the horses were not only dear to our hearts but also central to the ranch dream, he took aim on them first. He must have thought he’d hit the jackpot when he realized that, by destroying our barn, he'd be hitting some of the most sensitive areas of our family’s hearts. For not only did the barn hold our beloved horses, it also contained the few earthly possessions we treasured the most – nearly every photograph from our family’s last 18 years together, and every last one of our Christmas ornaments and keepsakes – each representing precious memories we’ve shared together as a family. In addition to that, the homeschool classroom we’d so lovingly created in the barn loft, and the countless drawings, projects, and special memories of our last 8 years of homeschooling were all destroyed by the flames. And we didn’t just lose "things" in the fire. We lost a building that held a million memories for our family – wonderful barn parties with family and friends; nature sketches we had drawn together on the walls and doors; Alex and Brian’s work area where they created Pinewood Derby cars, hovercrafts, and model airplanes; movies shown on a bed sheet on the barn door; the place where the barn swallows would come back to nest every year; the stall where we hid the kids’ first goats that we gave them one Christmas… the barn was so much a part of what our family was about. Anyone who’s been here for a Friday Night Pizza Night has most likely been on a barn tour led by one or more of the kids. They loved that barn and wanted to share that with the people they loved.

Satan must have figured that that one attack held enough punch to take us out of the battle for good. His mistake came in thinking he was simply waging war on a little family of five. If that were the case, then, yes, he would have defeated us, because on our own we’re no match for his strength. Apparently though, he forgot one "small" detail. When he came after us, he unleashed upon himself the fury of this family’s Protective, Almighty Father who, just days before, had made us some very big promises, and planted some vital Truth in our hearts. Those promises and that Truth went like this:

Psalm 91

Those who live in the shelter of the Most High
will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
This I declare of the Lord:
He alone is my refuge, my place of safety;
He is my God, and I am trusting Him.
For He will rescue you from every trap
And protect you from the fatal plague. He will shield you with His wings.
He will shelter you with His feathers.
His faithful promises are your armor and protection.

Do not be afraid of the terrors of the night,
Nor fear the dangers of the day,
Nor dread the plague that stalks in darkness,
Nor the disaster that strikes at midday. Though a thousand fall at your side,
Though ten thousand are dying around you, these evils will not touch you.
But you will see it with your eyes;
You will see how the wicked are punished.

If you make the Lord your refuge,
If you make the Most High your shelter,
No evil will conquer you;
No plague will come near your dwelling.
For He orders His angels to protect you wherever you go.
They will hold you with their hands
To keep you from striking your foot upon a stone.
You will trample down lions and poisonous snakes;
You will crush fierce lions and serpents under your feet!

The Lord says, "I will rescue those who love me.
I will protect those who trust my name.
When they call on me, I will answer;
I will rescue them and honor them.
I will satisfy them with a long life
And give them my salvation."

 

So we grieve. We feel every bit of the pain that the Enemy hoped we’d feel. We struggle with "whys" and "what ifs". We battle guilt and frustration over not having been able to do much more than watch as the fire raged. We sob and we wail over what was stolen from us that day. But we do it all with hope. That hope may seem at moments to be buried beneath a huge pile of rubble, but God has been so very, very good to us. When He sees we’re reaching our limit, He shows His tender mercy, pushes aside the literal charred remains of our dreams and lets us glimpse the tender green shoots of promise and hope fighting their way up through the ashes. And He promised that He’d make an even trade with us – Beauty for Ashes. We’re taking Him up on that, and we have no doubt He’ll come through in ways exceedingly, abundantly, immeasurably better than we could ever ask or imagine!

During an especially tearful time the day after the fire, God gave me the gift of an amazing vision. He showed me how the Enemy saw this fragile, beautiful little flower that represented all of what we lost in the fire. The Enemy set out to crush us by ripping that flower off its stem, smashing it into the dirt, throwing manure onto it, and then spraying it with gallons and gallons of water. As we stood there in shock and pain, the most amazing thing happened…the seeds of that fragile flower were released because of the crushing, rooted because they were shoved into the soil, fertilized by what he threw onto it, and given the water they needed to grow. In the place of our fragile little flower grew an entire garden filled with bigger, healthier flowers…flowers that went on to produce more and more flowers, more and more seeds, until everywhere I looked I saw beauty. I know this was a promise from God about the way He’ll turn Satan’s plans upside down. The dream of the ranch won’t merely survive this attack, it will actually thrive because of the hit it suffered. That’s the other thing Satan forgot - an attack like this brings the prayer warriors out in full force. People all over the United States have contacted us and promised to be in prayer for us and for the ranch.

For those of you who didn’t know the end of Churchill’s quote, this is what was missing:

"There’s something about the outside of a horse… that’s good for the inside of a man." Our family was blessed enough to glimpse the truth of that statement for at least a little while, and because of those wonderful few months, we’re more committed than ever to keep walking in faith toward the ranch He has created in our hearts. We know God wants hurting children to find healing and truth about His character through the unconditional love of horses. There’s no way we’re going to let the enemy destroy that.

A friend who runs a Christian youth ranch in Oregon e-mailed me the night after the fire and closed her message with another beautiful image:

"I am shouting for you and reaching across the miles to take your left hand (Jesus already has the right!) and help to pull you up to your feet... STAND GIRL!!! In shivering brokenness and tears... I am cheering for you to STAND!!!"

Our family needs your prayers, friends. We want to stand, but like Moses needed Aaron to hold up his weary arms, we’re going to need you all to come alongside and keep us strong. God has promised us that He’s got an amazing counterattack planned – one that will give a whole new meaning to Shock and Awe – and we want you all to be there with us to witness the Enemy turning tail and running in defeat.

We know we are blessed beyond belief to have the family, friends, and church we do, and we are thanking God for you every day. We pray for a shower of blessings for you all.

In HIM, with HOPE,

Krista and Brian Meyer and the kids

 

 

You can reach us by email using either:
 brian@mapleacrefarm.com or krista@mapleacrefarm.com