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The January wind cut clean across the open pasture, the kind that woke you up better than a cup of coffee. Jake pulled his coat tighter as he and Boone checked the fence line along the north ridge. The snow had melted into mud, and every step reminded him how easy it was to slip if you weren’t paying attention.
Boone trotted ahead, tail low but steady, stopping now and then looking back as if to say, Keep moving. One step at a time.
By the time they got back to the barn, Mary had the lanterns lit. She was brushing down one of her horses, slow and patient, humming softly. Jake leaned against the stall door, watching for a moment.
“You ever notice,” Jake said finally, “how folks think once they’ve learned something, that’s the end of it?”
Mary smiled without stopping her work. “Horses would be a mess if we thought that way. Gotta brush them down more than once.”
Jake chuckled. “True.”
She set the brush down and turned to face him. “Growth doesn’t happen because we decided it should. It happens because we keep showing up, especially on days like this, to do what’s needed.”
Jake nodded, thinking about how many times he’d wanted to rush things. Fix the fence faster. Train the horse quicker. Get results without patience. Always looking ahead to the next thing to do rather than focusing on doing the things at hand.
Late that afternoon, an old neighbor stopped by. His wagon had broken down along the road, and the cold had him frustrated. He had tried to repair one of the traces that had snapped but his hands were too cold and fingers too stiff. To make things worse the horses were tired and uneasy. When he came to the ranch house, Jake could tell the man was embarrassed to ask for help.
Without a word, Mary poured him a cup of coffee and listened while he talked. While he was warming up, Jake fetched leather straps and tools from the barn. Boone lay at the man’s feet, calm as ever.
When the harness was finally mended and the team stood ready, they drove back to the ranch house and Mary asked him to stay and have dinner with Caldwell and them.
The neighbor shook his head, “I don’t know how you folks stay so patient.”
Mary answered gently, “We don’t do it on our own. We just try to stay close to the One who gives us strength to love when it’s easier not to.”
After dinner and their guest had gone, Jake realized something. The strength he admired in Mary wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was steady. It came from trusting daily, not perfectly, just honestly.
He scratched Boone behind the ears. “Guess growing doesn’t mean trying harder all the time,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it means staying open to the Spirit’s leading.”
Boone thumped his tail once, as if that settled the matter.
Jake breathed deep, feeling grateful. Growth wasn’t about earning anything. It was about receiving from the Lord, again and again, the strength to live and love well.