Midweek Whiplash, Magic Moments, and Why We Keep Showing Up

Alright… sit here for a second.

Car’s still running. Radio low. Coffee’s not strong enough. You’re staring at the office like… do I really have to go in right now?

It’s Wednesday.

Not close enough to Friday to feel good about it… but far enough into the week that you’re already tired.

And the weather?

Yesterday we’re out here acting like it’s summer. Full 80 degrees. Windows down. Sun actually hitting your skin.

Today… back to the 70s, clouds rolling in, and of course… storm chances. Tornado talk like it’s just part of the daily checklist now.

I swear Central Illinois is trying real hard to be Oklahoma lately.

Used to be, “wait an hour, the weather will change.”

Now it’s like… wait an hour and grab a helmet.

And who even knows anymore. Is it just spring doing its thing or something bigger going on? People arguing about it, pointing fingers, throwing theories around.

Meanwhile… we’re just out here trying to decide if we need a hoodie or a tank top.

And oh yeah… it’s also Tax Day.

Because why not stack that on a Wednesday.

But here’s the part that actually got me this morning.

All three kids.

All three.

Dragging themselves out of bed, hair going every direction, trying to get dressed for school…

And every single one of them hit me with, “These don’t fit.”

All. Three.

Same morning.

So now we’ve got growth spurts happening in real time and I’m standing there like… weren’t you all just little?

Now I’m mentally adding “buy summer clothes” to a list that’s already too long.

Shorts. T-shirts. Dresses.

And I’m not ready for it.

Not even a little.

Because time didn’t ask. It just moved.

And then… you get one of those moments that snaps you out of it.

Maverick.

Our “Magic Man.”

The one that showed up from Louisiana looking like he wasn’t going to make it. Bones showing. Skin rough. No life in his eyes.

And it’s been almost two years of just… showing up for him.

Nothing flashy.

Just consistent work.

And not just from me.

There’s been time poured into that horse. Care. Patience. Miles from people who didn’t quit on him when he was still figuring out how to be a horse again.

The kind of behind-the-scenes work nobody posts about.

Then the last couple days happened.

Monday night, I got on him just to see where he was at after a little strain. Kept it light.

And for the first time… I asked him to collect.

Really use his body.

And he just… gave it.

No argument. No confusion.

He softened right into my hands like he’d been waiting for me to ask.

And I sat there thinking… there it is.

That feeling.

The one that reminds you why you started doing this in the first place.

Then last night, one of his girls got on.

I showed her how to bring him together, something she’d never been taught.

She looks at me and goes, “He feels like a completely different horse.”

And I just smiled like… yeah. I know.

Because he was.

Smooth. Put together. Actually holding himself.

Present.

That horse earned his name all over again.

Magic Man.

And this weekend?

We take him somewhere new.

First time competing.

Not to win. Not to be fast.

Just to see.

How he handles the noise. The pressure. The environment.

It’s a starting point.

Because rebuilding a horse isn’t just physical.

It’s mental.

And she’s learning that right alongside him.

That’s the work most people don’t see.

So yeah… it’s Wednesday.

You’re sitting in your car, probably not ready to walk in yet.

Weather’s all over the place. Kids are growing too fast. Your list is longer than your patience.

But every once in a while…

You get a moment that reminds you why you keep doing all of it.

And sometimes, it looks like a horse finally saying,

“Alright… I’m ready.”