I honestly thought she might cry. Or hide behind my leg. I mean, horses are huge when you’re barely three feet tall.
But there she was—my little Maren—standing in the middle of the barn aisle, staring up at this giant chestnut gelding like she was meeting a celebrity.
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At first, she just froze. I held my breath, waiting for the panic. Waiting for the tears.
Instead, she broke into the biggest, brightest smile I’ve ever seen. The kind that makes your heart trip over itself.
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She giggled—a little soft squeal of pure joy—and stretched her tiny hand toward his nose. And would you believe it? That massive horse, with hooves the size of dinner plates, leaned down so gently, like he somehow knew exactly how small and important she was.
She touched him. Right there on the velvety part of his muzzle. Her fingers barely brushed his fur, and she gasped like she just discovered magic.
I didn’t know what to do with myself in that moment. I thought I might start crying, too. To see her so open, so fearless, and so enchanted by something that could have easily terrified her—it was a moment I’ll never forget. It was like the world had paused for just a second to let us both take it all in.
Maren didn’t pull away, like I half expected. She stayed there, holding her hand out, gazing into the horse’s dark eyes. The horse, whose name was Duke, stood perfectly still, as if he was just as captivated by her as she was by him. I wasn’t sure if it was the softness in his eyes or the way he seemed to understand her innocence, but there was something incredibly tender in that exchange.
After a while, Maren giggled again, this time turning to me with the kind of look that only a child can give—a mix of wonder and absolute delight.
“Momma, he’s so big!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. Her words came out in a rush, and she looked back at Duke as if asking for permission to get closer.
I smiled and nodded, encouraging her to keep exploring this new bond. “You can touch him more if you want, sweetheart.”
With my blessing, she took a couple of tentative steps closer to the horse, her small hands reaching out to touch the soft fur of his coat. I watched her every move, my heart swelling with pride and affection. It was like seeing a dream come true—a dream I never realized I had until that very moment.
We had always been a family who loved animals. I had horses as a child, and I wanted Maren to grow up with that same sense of connection to the earth, to nature, and to creatures as magnificent as Duke. But I didn’t expect her to take to him so effortlessly. I didn’t expect any of this.
The barn was quiet, save for the soft sounds of Duke shifting his weight and the occasional soft rustle of Maren’s tiny feet moving across the straw-covered floor. My mind wandered to how far we had come—how much I had changed since becoming a mother. How much Maren had changed me.
But there was a twist to this seemingly peaceful moment, one that would come back to me later in a way I could never have predicted.
A few weeks after Maren met Duke, I found myself standing at the barn again, but this time I wasn’t just there for a peaceful visit. I had come to talk to Rachel, the woman who owned the barn, about something that had been on my mind for a while.
“You know, Maren’s really taken a shine to Duke,” I said, as we watched the horse move around in his pen. “I was wondering… would it be possible for her to start riding? I know she’s still young, but I think she’s ready. I’ve seen the way she interacts with him. It’s like they understand each other.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow, looking from Duke to me, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Well, that’s a big decision. Riding is a lot of responsibility, especially at her age. But I can tell she has a bond with him. Maybe we could start with some groundwork. Let her get comfortable around horses before we think about riding.”
I agreed. We started bringing Maren to the barn a few times a week to help with chores and get her familiar with the animals. At first, it was just grooming and feeding. But every time she stepped into the barn, Duke seemed to know. His ears would prick up, and he would trot over to the gate to greet her, as if he was just as eager to see her as she was him.
Months went by, and Maren grew more and more comfortable with Duke. But something else was happening. Something I didn’t see coming.
It was late one afternoon when Rachel called me to let me know that she had a special opportunity for Maren. She had found a local riding instructor who worked with very young children, and they were willing to offer Maren the chance to start lessons. My heart swelled with excitement—this was what I had been hoping for, but I had no idea it would come so soon.
The first lesson was both magical and terrifying. Maren was so excited to be on Duke’s back. She barely needed any help, only a little reassurance to keep her balanced. Duke, as gentle as ever, walked calmly around the arena, and I watched as my daughter’s confidence grew with every step. I couldn’t believe how quickly she adapted, how naturally she took to the saddle. She was smiling from ear to ear, and I was a proud mom, even though I was still fighting the nerves of seeing her up there.
But then, it happened. As Duke made a turn, Maren’s foot slipped slightly from the stirrup, and before I could even react, she tumbled off the horse and landed on the soft ground. The entire barn seemed to freeze for a split second.
I rushed to her, panic flooding my veins. But Maren didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She sat up, dusted herself off, and turned to me with a bright grin on her face.
“Momma, I fell off! I’m okay!” she said with more excitement than fear.
I was shaking, but the look on her face made me realize something—it was the lesson she had needed to learn. Life wasn’t always going to be easy. There were going to be falls. There were going to be times when we got hurt, even in ways we didn’t expect. But it wasn’t about the fall—it was about getting up, dusting yourself off, and trying again.
Rachel stood beside me, watching with a knowing smile. “She’s a natural,” she said quietly. “And you know what? That fall? It’s going to teach her more than anything else. The key isn’t avoiding the fall—it’s learning how to stand back up and try again.”
And that’s when it hit me. All these years, I had been so careful. So protective. I wanted to shield Maren from every hurt, every disappointment. But sometimes, it was the challenges, the little falls, that made us stronger. That helped us grow into the people we were meant to become.
I wasn’t ready for this lesson, but it had come anyway. And, as hard as it was to watch, I knew it would shape Maren in ways I couldn’t even imagine.
Over time, I watched her continue to grow in both her confidence and her riding ability. The falls became fewer, but they were always met with a resilience that amazed me. She was determined to master it—just like Duke had been with her from the very beginning, standing by patiently, never pushing her, always ready to lend his support when she needed it most.
One day, a few months after that first fall, Maren rode Duke around the barn by herself, for the first time ever. I watched, tears filling my eyes, as my little girl guided that giant horse with the kind of grace and confidence I never knew she had.
She was ready.
And me? I was ready to stop protecting her from everything. I knew now that the falls, the challenges, the setbacks—those were all part of the ride. They were all part of what it took to grow stronger, to grow wiser.
So, here’s the lesson, my friends: sometimes we want to protect the ones we love from all the bumps and bruises. But those bumps and bruises are what make them who they are. Life isn’t about avoiding the falls—it’s about learning how to rise again, stronger each time. And when we teach that to the people we love, we give them the greatest gift of all.
If you’ve found this story inspiring, please share it with someone who might need it. And remember, it’s not about the fall. It’s about how you get back up.
