On September 5th, 1992 I crossed from death to life. Here’s the story…
I was riding a 3 year old bay QH mare named Bayberry. I was just 20 years old and had recently turned professional, probably too young and too soon! But that’s another lesson learned. Bayberry was my first full time training horse and I had been riding her for almost a week. She lived on an organic farm in Boulder, CO with her new best friend - an aged appaloosa mare named Whickey. Bayberry was sweet. She had been well started by her breeders and sold to my client who wanted a companion for Whickey and a horse to learn on, trail ride, and eventually teach to drive. She was young, too young - just like me. But really her only “issue” at the time was that she was extremely bonded to her new buddy and would whinny for her the whole time I rode her. The pasture where the two horses lived was far enough from the barn where the tack was kept that while I was getting Bayberry ready to ride she was out of sight of her friend Whickey. Since Bayberry couldn’t see Whickey she called to her incessantly. It was getting annoying and I had an idea to “fix” it.
I didn’t know then what I understand now - that a horse’s primary need is to feel safe. Bayberry did not feel safe when she was not with Whickey and her only way to ease her fear was to try to connect with her friend by calling for her and listening for her returned whinny.
That day I decided to shut her mouth with a flash noseband - a thin strip of leather that attached to her regular noseband but dropped down around her mouth, in front of the bit, to keep her from being able to open her mouth and whinny to Whickey. Something else I didn’t really understand then was that horses don’t like to feel trapped or stuck, and some of them, when they feel constrained will panic. Bayberry panicked.
My better judgement, that still small voice inside, had whispered to me that I should lunge her first and let her get used to the feel of the flash noseband before I got on. But I was in a hurry. It was Labor Day and I had a picnic to attend with family after I rode. Besides, I thought, I’ve ridden her all week - she shouldn’t need to be lunged.
So I led her out of the barnyard to the gravel driveway where I usually mounted before riding out to the field to work her.
I stepped in the stirrup and swung my leg up and over, landing softly in the saddle. The moment my seat made contact and my leg closed to send her forward, Bayberry reacted lightning fast. She ran backward several steps, reared and simultaneously flipped over on her right side, onto my right leg. I imagine it looked like a scene in a cowboy movie, but without the plan.
We hit the ground together with tremendous force and I felt all the weight of that solid little Quarter Horse as she crushed my right leg underneath her body. As quickly as we landed she rolled back up, away from me - thank God, but like a giant furry rolling pin across my already crushed leg. She then jumped up and ran back down to the pasture, unscathed, to find her friend. That was the last time I ever saw Bayberry.
Back then, most of us rode in full chaps. I had just gotten my new custom full grain leather chaps a week before and was wearing them over shorts that hot Labor Day. The chaps were made very tight as they would stretch the more they were worn. They were beautiful burgundy leather with a tan tooled leather strip down the outside of each leg. They fit perfectly! And being brand new, they were perfectly tight!
As Bayberry ran away I gasped a huge breath and pushed my body up off the ground to a sitting position. My right leg was completely crushed. The larger bone, my tibia had broken completely in half and had ripped clean through my new custom leather chaps from about mid-calf all the way down to my ankle and was sticking up several inches from the bloody mess. I quickly pushed it back down into my leg.
You don’t really think in those moments, you just do. Those of you that have been in similar situations understand what I mean. Those that haven’t can’t imagine what would possess someone to push their bone back into their leg. In that moment, in that one movement, though, my mind was quick to make many assessment of the situation - I will probably never ride again. I will probably never walk again. I will probably lose my leg.
I laid back down, filled my lungs with air and screamed for help. There were several cars in the gravel parking area just in front of the barn. Although I hadn’t seen any of the farm workers that day, I assumed they were already out in the fields working as usual. I screamed several times, expecting that at any moment someone would come running from around the barn. No one came. I cried out loud enough and long enough that someone should have been there. But no one showed up. Then it hit me - it was Saturday…Labor Day…Farmer’s Market in town. The trucks were gone. Oh my gosh! The workers had loaded the trucks with produce and were all gone to the farmers market. Their cars were there but they were not. I was alone.
There were no cell phone in those days. Well, there were some. They were big, plugged into your car, and ordinary people didn’t have one. And no one had one in their pocket like we all do now.
I was sitting back up again, sort of sideways on my seat and right thigh. My right leg was flat against the gravel driveway, inside facing up. The bone had ripped through my skin and my chaps leaving a canoe shaped opening where I could view my own flesh, blood, and bones. The chaps were still attached around my upper leg and most of my knee as well as around my ankle. I wiggled my toes - they worked! I didn’t expect that! Somehow in all that mess of broken bones and torn flesh, something was still attached enough to make my toes be able to move!
The neighboring property was also a large residential farm, maybe 40-80 acres. Our driveways weren’t that far from each other but were separated by a thick and long line of trees. I couldn’t see the house from where I was but I knew it was there, somewhere behind all those trees. Maybe they were home. Maybe they would hear me. Another round of screaming - with all I had in me - calling for help, as loud and long as I could. Same result - no one came to my rescue. No one heard my cries for help.
So, what do I do? Save myself. Get help. Get out of here….Ok, how? Get up…get to my car.
I had a 1981 burgundy Honda Prelude that my mom had given me a year before. Strangely I had passed my mom and stepdad on my way to the farm that day. They were headed the opposite direction in their white Toyota pick up truck. I remember that double-take, half-pause moment when we both realized who we were passing and did a quick head turn and wave. I thought for a split second that maybe I should turn around and say HI to them. No, keep going. I’ve got things to do, and so do they probably. Just keep going…
My car was around the back of the barn, out of my sight for the moment, but I knew it was there. I can get up, and hop on my left leg to my car. I started to push myself up from sitting to what I thought would be standing. That’s when I realized just how broken my leg was. Even though my toes wiggled and were somehow still connected, the rest of my leg must have been completely broken off from below my knee. When I tried to get up, the lower part of my right leg stayed flat on the ground, bending from the side of my knee in a way that knees aren’t supposed to bend. I sat back down quickly and gasped, my breathing quickening for the first time that I really remember. Oh my goodness, that leg is not attached…oh my goodness!
Ok…Ok…just drag yourself, drag yourself to the car….my right leg doesn’t work, isn’t attached, no problem…I can still get to my car. My car, my car is a stick shift….oh no. Even if I get to my car, I can’t drive it….oh no. I need both legs, and I can’t sit up, no I can’t get off the ground or what will happen to my leg?! I could drag myself to the car and blow the horn, yes! But will anyone hear it? I’ve been screaming, “HELP!” at the top of my lungs with no response. So will anyone respond to a car horn? Will they even hear it? Is anyone even close enough?
The road. The main road…I could drag myself down the driveway to the main road and flag down a car! Yes! That’s the plan. Ok…here we go…drag myself…use your elbows…pull hard…wow this is harder than I thought…no problem…I can do it…drag…pull…keep going…
As I started pulling myself along I was going between the barnyard on my right and another building, the office building, on my left. I’d been inside of it a few times to use the phone. The phone! There is a phone in that building! I could drag myself into that building - if it’s unlocked - and get to the phone. It’s just inside…up the stairs….damn it. UP the stairs.
I had dragged myself down the narrow driveway to the point where I could just see my car to my right parked behind the barn. The door to the office building was on my left, about 30 feet from the driveway. If I was going to try to get to the car or the office I’d have to get off the driveway and lose valuable time and energy that I would need to get to the end of the driveway and flag down a car. And what good would it do me anyway?! If I got into the office I’d still have to drag myself UP the stairs! I was having a hard enough time dragging myself on the flat gravel driveway! That was not an option. If I got to my car I could blow the horn. But if no one responded then I would be way over to the side and have to go even farther to get back on the driveway and down to the main road.
I just want that phone that’s in the office! It’s right there, not far away, but up the stupid stairs!!! It’s so close but completely out of my reach. I grabbed a handful of rocks from the driveway and hurled them at the metal office building. The sound of the rocks hitting the metal building gave me some satisfaction, but only for a second and did me no good, just like dragging myself into that building would do.
I laid back down on the road in exasperation. I felt the first twinge of hopelessness. I can’t get to the phone. My car will do me no good. I’m starting to feel tired. Breath deep…breathe…keep going….
Now I was mad. Mad at the phone, mad at my car, mad at the whole situation. And mad at God. I sort of prayed, more like reprimanded God. Great - this is great. I’m stuck here with a crushed leg and no way to get help. What do you want from me God?! What on earth is the point of this!? What do you want me to do?! Sing. What? Sing.
“Oh Lord, you’re beautiful…” My favorite worship song… “and Your face is all I see….” I had sung that song another time when I was completely alone with God - well just me, God, and my horse Daniel. I had taken Daniel on a trail ride from the farm I boarded him at to another farm to take a lesson with my Pony Club group. It was getting dark on my ride home after the lesson, and I was on the trails of the Open Space in Boulder, alone with Daniel and God, the Rocky Mountains silhouetted against the deep darkening blue sky. It was an amazing night, perfect…and I sang that song… “Oh Lord, You’re beautiful…and Your face is all I see… for when Your eyes are on this child….Your grace abounds to me.”
Are your eyes on me now, Lord?! Do you see the mess I’m in? How could you let this happen? I was just trying to do my job, be responsible, and now I’m lying here broken and bleeding on a gravel driveway, trying to drag myself to find help. This is CRAZY! It’s just a broken leg! JUST a broken leg! But I’m stuck…I can’t get up… I’m not making much progress on this road…it’s so long! And I’m bleeding…oh my gosh, I’m really starting to bleed now.
Up until then the blood had been pooling slowly in that canoe shaped opening of my chaps - to the point where I could no longer see my flesh and bones, just blood. And now the blood was spilling out, just a little at a time, but it was no longer contained. I looked back down the road from where I’d come, where I’d first fallen, and I could see a track in the gravel from my leg dragging along. At first the track looked dry and dusty, like how it would look if you dragged a heavy log through dirt. But then I could see, little by little as it got closer to where I now was laying, that there was blood in the track. I was losing more blood than my little God-made leather tourniquet could contain.
I’m going to bleed to death if I don’t get help soon. I’m still so far from the end of the driveway, from the road…
I could hear the cars now faintly, as they drove past. But I couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see me. The whole driveway was thickly lined with tall beautiful trees. They won’t be able to see me until I’m right up on the road because of all these trees. Oh my gosh…what if a car pulls down the driveway and doesn’t see me?! I could be run over! I could get right up to the edge, right up to being able to flag down a car and they might not see me.
More blood, lots more blood. I looked at my track again and it was becoming more and more covered with a track of blood. I looked down the driveway toward the road. I had more distance left to go than I’d already come. I’m not going to make it to the end of the road. Reality. I’m not going to make it…
This is stupid! It’s a broken leg! Are you kidding me??! I’m going to die from a broken leg!?? This is a stupid way to die!
That’s exactly what I said - out loud, I think.
Keep going….keep going…..
Tears…bloody elbows, but I didn’t notice those. I only noticed that it was hard, and getting harder to pull myself along. I was exhausted, I was past mad and beginning to be sad. This is not what I want. Lord….please….I can’t do it. I’m trying so hard…You know me…I’m sorry…I’m doing the best I can, giving it all I’ve got…I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m so sorry.
If you don’t save me, I’m going to die.
I knew it at that point, I wasn’t going to make it to the end of the road. All my efforts weren’t good enough. I wasn’t strong enough. I had only one hope and that was God.
God, I’m totally in Your hands now. My life, whether I live or die, is completely in Your hands. I’m going to die if You don’t send someone. If You don’t save me, I’m going to die.
I laid my head back down on the gravel drive and took a deep breath. It had been nearly an hour. My throat was sore. My mouth was dry. I was hot, and dirty, and running out of….everything.
Then I heard something.
A faint noise like a rumbling sound? A car?… Not sure…then another noise…a dog barking, yes a dog barking! Where…next door….ok, Lord…big breath, fill my lungs, one more try… “HELP!”
Everything I had left in me, screaming for help…maybe just maybe…and then there they were!
Two people, a man and a women, came running through the trees, jumped over a fence, I think? I don’t know, but there they were. And they were coming toward me! Thank you, Lord! Thank You, Jesus! Yes - I’m found! I’m not alone anymore! They’re here! Thank You, Lord!
The woman ran right to me and sat down by my head, “You’re going to be ok, I’m here.” Her husband ran back through the trees to the house, to get towels, water, I don’t know…but they had a phone! And they called 911.
“Help is on the way,” she said…. “I’m here with you”…and she put my head in her lap. “Do you have anyone I can call for you?”
“Yes - call my husband.” I remembered the phone number. I was calm. I never passed out, never lost consciousness. I remember it all, every part of the road to that point. I relaxed, and my breathing slowed a bit…I felt a little…a little less present. It seemed so fast, the sound of sirens getting closer, the ambulance pulling in. It was so fast!
I had gone from being alone, facing my death and crying for help, to being rescued, safe, saved.
That moment of recognizing and surrendering to the fact that I was going to die - it was that moment that it all changed so fast.
Now there were lots of people, EMTs I guess, people….they were looking at me, touching me, asking me questions, talking to each other. “She needs fluids…I can’t get a vein…she’s about bled out….we need a vein….try her neck…..got it! I got a vein! Awesome…
We need to get these leather pants off of her…get the scissors…we can cut them….”
“NO! Please don’t cut them,” I said, “They’re brand new, custom, I just got them…there’s a zipper! On the side, there’s a zipper! Don’t cut them!”
I laugh now. I was so concerned about my new chaps being completely destroyed! I guess I figured I’d already ruined the right side, why ruin the left side! Don’t ruin my chaps!
“Let’s get her on the stretcher and into the ambulance…got it…hook it under her…ok, good….ready…1, 2….” Wait!
“Don’t drop me!” I was so afraid they would.
Had I never been held? Had I never been carried? No. I had been.
When I was little I would stand at my parents’ feet, stretch my arms up and crane my neck to see them and say, “Uppie!” They would pick me up, balance me on their hip and I would be content. It’s where I wanted to be. And if I started to slide down, I would say, “Hoof-Up!” Which meant I wanted them to bounce me back up to that securely held position.
Securely held…
My parents divorced when I was 4. Had I been securely held since then?
When did I stop saying “Uppie!?” and “Hoof-Up?!” I don’t remember.
But I remember that day being afraid the EMTs would drop me, and pleading with them to be careful with me.
Careful. Full of care…
I definitely need care, in many ways.
I think I had become self-sufficient.
Maybe I had to. I needed care, to be held, to be safe and secure. Just like a horse, like Bayberry, our need to be safe really does outweigh all other needs. So I had learned to take care of myself.
I had done a good job that day! I had come so far! I had gone a great distance!
But in the matter of crossing from death to life, a good job is never enough. A great distance doesn’t get you across the line. I had fallen short.
My self-sufficiency had failed me, had left me broken, bleeding, and dragging myself down a road that ended only in death.
I had exhausted every resource.
I had screamed for help with every ounce of breath and grit I could muster.
I had dragged my body until my elbows were shredded and bloody.
I had gotten angry and thrown rocks at what seemed like a closed door.
I had cried. I had sung. I had prayed. I had bargained with God. I came up with ideas, tried some and ultimately failed at all of them.
Until I came to the end of myself.
And then I turned to God. TRULY turned to Him. Not for Him to help me, but for Him to save me.
I recognized that without His intervention I was as good as dead. I was powerless to save myself. And I said, “God, unless You step in and save me, I’m going to die.”
And I knew it was true.
It wasn’t a bargain or a threat.
It was a simple recognition of the reality of my situation.
The truth is we are all broken, bleeding, and dragging ourselves in our own strength closer and closer to death. We may arrive there. But we won’t cross over from there, from death to life, without the intervention of the One and Only Savior.
I made it about halfway down the road that day.
I made it right up to that line of death.
But salvation was out of my reach. I wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way in my own strength.
I would’ve been a fool that day if when the neighbors showed up I had said, “Oh no. I’m fine. I don’t need help. I’ve got a plan! You see, I’m going to drag myself down this road and then…”
Yeah a fool.
It would have been sheer idiocracy to have declared that I didn’t need to be rescued, that I didn’t need a savior, or to deny the severity of my wounds - wounds that would, untreated, inevitably lead to death.
I needed saving. I needed a Savior.
And I got saved!
The long road from that point on was full of surgeries and more surgeries. Pins and external fixators. Antibiotics and plastic surgeries. Rehab and pain. Struggles and little victories. Setbacks and big miracles.
I have my leg. And I was back on a horse in less than a year. It was a miracle - all of it.
Salvation is a miracle - a gift.
I didn’t earn it.
I couldn’t achieve it.
I wasn’t worthy or unworthy of it.
It was a free gift that I desperately needed and I accepted it, received it, and crossed from death to life. I had moments of near death during my recovery - infections and reactions to medications. But the real saving happened that day halfway down a long gravel road.
Where are you today?
Are you broken and bleeding?
Are you dragging yourself down a road to death? Are you trying to save yourself?
In the Spirit Realm we are all broken, and bleeding, and dragging ourselves down the same road. And we all have the same Savior who is willing, able, ready and waiting to be OUR Savior. He already drug Himself down that long dirt road, bleeding and broken and carrying the weight of the cross - the sin of the whole world.
My sin.
Your sin.
Everyone’s sin.
And He did die for each of us.
Yet He was sufficient, unlike us! He was and is The Lamb of God, slain from the beginning of the world. The Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. And He had the power, being the only begotten Son of God - God Himself in the form of a man - to cross from death to life by His own shed blood. Physically He died, was buried and on the 3rd day rose again. He did it for us so we don’t have to.
Because we can’t.
It’s not just the easier way, it’s the only way!
We can lie to ourselves and keep dragging ourselves down the road.
But we aren’t going to make it.
We need a Savior.
I needed a Savior.
We all need a Savior.
If you’re reading this today and you feel like I did on that road, then stop dragging yourself toward death. Recognize your need right now for Your Savior. Call out to Him. He is ready and willing to save YOU! Right now!
Believe in your heart that He loves you and is able to rescue you.
Confess with your mouth that He IS the Lord, the risen Savior!
And you WILL be saved!
Welcome to the Kingdom, my friend!
We have a glorious journey ahead of us, together!
I’m excited to walk this new road with you and to help each other along The Way.
Grace and Peace to you - Shalom!
<3 Stacey
Connect with me:
SuperNatural Horsemanship Youtube Channel
www.onpurposeinternational.org
I was riding a 3 year old bay QH mare named Bayberry. I was just 20 years old and had recently turned professional, probably too young and too soon! But that’s another lesson learned. Bayberry was my first full time training horse and I had been riding her for almost a week. She lived on an organic farm in Boulder, CO with her new best friend - an aged appaloosa mare named Whickey. Bayberry was sweet. She had been well started by her breeders and sold to my client who wanted a companion for Whickey and a horse to learn on, trail ride, and eventually teach to drive. She was young, too young - just like me. But really her only “issue” at the time was that she was extremely bonded to her new buddy and would whinny for her the whole time I rode her. The pasture where the two horses lived was far enough from the barn where the tack was kept that while I was getting Bayberry ready to ride she was out of sight of her friend Whickey. Since Bayberry couldn’t see Whickey she called to her incessantly. It was getting annoying and I had an idea to “fix” it.
I didn’t know then what I understand now - that a horse’s primary need is to feel safe. Bayberry did not feel safe when she was not with Whickey and her only way to ease her fear was to try to connect with her friend by calling for her and listening for her returned whinny.
That day I decided to shut her mouth with a flash noseband - a thin strip of leather that attached to her regular noseband but dropped down around her mouth, in front of the bit, to keep her from being able to open her mouth and whinny to Whickey. Something else I didn’t really understand then was that horses don’t like to feel trapped or stuck, and some of them, when they feel constrained will panic. Bayberry panicked.
My better judgement, that still small voice inside, had whispered to me that I should lunge her first and let her get used to the feel of the flash noseband before I got on. But I was in a hurry. It was Labor Day and I had a picnic to attend with family after I rode. Besides, I thought, I’ve ridden her all week - she shouldn’t need to be lunged.
So I led her out of the barnyard to the gravel driveway where I usually mounted before riding out to the field to work her.
I stepped in the stirrup and swung my leg up and over, landing softly in the saddle. The moment my seat made contact and my leg closed to send her forward, Bayberry reacted lightning fast. She ran backward several steps, reared and simultaneously flipped over on her right side, onto my right leg. I imagine it looked like a scene in a cowboy movie, but without the plan.
We hit the ground together with tremendous force and I felt all the weight of that solid little Quarter Horse as she crushed my right leg underneath her body. As quickly as we landed she rolled back up, away from me - thank God, but like a giant furry rolling pin across my already crushed leg. She then jumped up and ran back down to the pasture, unscathed, to find her friend. That was the last time I ever saw Bayberry.
Back then, most of us rode in full chaps. I had just gotten my new custom full grain leather chaps a week before and was wearing them over shorts that hot Labor Day. The chaps were made very tight as they would stretch the more they were worn. They were beautiful burgundy leather with a tan tooled leather strip down the outside of each leg. They fit perfectly! And being brand new, they were perfectly tight!
As Bayberry ran away I gasped a huge breath and pushed my body up off the ground to a sitting position. My right leg was completely crushed. The larger bone, my tibia had broken completely in half and had ripped clean through my new custom leather chaps from about mid-calf all the way down to my ankle and was sticking up several inches from the bloody mess. I quickly pushed it back down into my leg.
You don’t really think in those moments, you just do. Those of you that have been in similar situations understand what I mean. Those that haven’t can’t imagine what would possess someone to push their bone back into their leg. In that moment, in that one movement, though, my mind was quick to make many assessment of the situation - I will probably never ride again. I will probably never walk again. I will probably lose my leg.
I laid back down, filled my lungs with air and screamed for help. There were several cars in the gravel parking area just in front of the barn. Although I hadn’t seen any of the farm workers that day, I assumed they were already out in the fields working as usual. I screamed several times, expecting that at any moment someone would come running from around the barn. No one came. I cried out loud enough and long enough that someone should have been there. But no one showed up. Then it hit me - it was Saturday…Labor Day…Farmer’s Market in town. The trucks were gone. Oh my gosh! The workers had loaded the trucks with produce and were all gone to the farmers market. Their cars were there but they were not. I was alone.
There were no cell phone in those days. Well, there were some. They were big, plugged into your car, and ordinary people didn’t have one. And no one had one in their pocket like we all do now.
I was sitting back up again, sort of sideways on my seat and right thigh. My right leg was flat against the gravel driveway, inside facing up. The bone had ripped through my skin and my chaps leaving a canoe shaped opening where I could view my own flesh, blood, and bones. The chaps were still attached around my upper leg and most of my knee as well as around my ankle. I wiggled my toes - they worked! I didn’t expect that! Somehow in all that mess of broken bones and torn flesh, something was still attached enough to make my toes be able to move!
The neighboring property was also a large residential farm, maybe 40-80 acres. Our driveways weren’t that far from each other but were separated by a thick and long line of trees. I couldn’t see the house from where I was but I knew it was there, somewhere behind all those trees. Maybe they were home. Maybe they would hear me. Another round of screaming - with all I had in me - calling for help, as loud and long as I could. Same result - no one came to my rescue. No one heard my cries for help.
So, what do I do? Save myself. Get help. Get out of here….Ok, how? Get up…get to my car.
I had a 1981 burgundy Honda Prelude that my mom had given me a year before. Strangely I had passed my mom and stepdad on my way to the farm that day. They were headed the opposite direction in their white Toyota pick up truck. I remember that double-take, half-pause moment when we both realized who we were passing and did a quick head turn and wave. I thought for a split second that maybe I should turn around and say HI to them. No, keep going. I’ve got things to do, and so do they probably. Just keep going…
My car was around the back of the barn, out of my sight for the moment, but I knew it was there. I can get up, and hop on my left leg to my car. I started to push myself up from sitting to what I thought would be standing. That’s when I realized just how broken my leg was. Even though my toes wiggled and were somehow still connected, the rest of my leg must have been completely broken off from below my knee. When I tried to get up, the lower part of my right leg stayed flat on the ground, bending from the side of my knee in a way that knees aren’t supposed to bend. I sat back down quickly and gasped, my breathing quickening for the first time that I really remember. Oh my goodness, that leg is not attached…oh my goodness!
Ok…Ok…just drag yourself, drag yourself to the car….my right leg doesn’t work, isn’t attached, no problem…I can still get to my car. My car, my car is a stick shift….oh no. Even if I get to my car, I can’t drive it….oh no. I need both legs, and I can’t sit up, no I can’t get off the ground or what will happen to my leg?! I could drag myself to the car and blow the horn, yes! But will anyone hear it? I’ve been screaming, “HELP!” at the top of my lungs with no response. So will anyone respond to a car horn? Will they even hear it? Is anyone even close enough?
The road. The main road…I could drag myself down the driveway to the main road and flag down a car! Yes! That’s the plan. Ok…here we go…drag myself…use your elbows…pull hard…wow this is harder than I thought…no problem…I can do it…drag…pull…keep going…
As I started pulling myself along I was going between the barnyard on my right and another building, the office building, on my left. I’d been inside of it a few times to use the phone. The phone! There is a phone in that building! I could drag myself into that building - if it’s unlocked - and get to the phone. It’s just inside…up the stairs….damn it. UP the stairs.
I had dragged myself down the narrow driveway to the point where I could just see my car to my right parked behind the barn. The door to the office building was on my left, about 30 feet from the driveway. If I was going to try to get to the car or the office I’d have to get off the driveway and lose valuable time and energy that I would need to get to the end of the driveway and flag down a car. And what good would it do me anyway?! If I got into the office I’d still have to drag myself UP the stairs! I was having a hard enough time dragging myself on the flat gravel driveway! That was not an option. If I got to my car I could blow the horn. But if no one responded then I would be way over to the side and have to go even farther to get back on the driveway and down to the main road.
I just want that phone that’s in the office! It’s right there, not far away, but up the stupid stairs!!! It’s so close but completely out of my reach. I grabbed a handful of rocks from the driveway and hurled them at the metal office building. The sound of the rocks hitting the metal building gave me some satisfaction, but only for a second and did me no good, just like dragging myself into that building would do.
I laid back down on the road in exasperation. I felt the first twinge of hopelessness. I can’t get to the phone. My car will do me no good. I’m starting to feel tired. Breath deep…breathe…keep going….
Now I was mad. Mad at the phone, mad at my car, mad at the whole situation. And mad at God. I sort of prayed, more like reprimanded God. Great - this is great. I’m stuck here with a crushed leg and no way to get help. What do you want from me God?! What on earth is the point of this!? What do you want me to do?! Sing. What? Sing.
“Oh Lord, you’re beautiful…” My favorite worship song… “and Your face is all I see….” I had sung that song another time when I was completely alone with God - well just me, God, and my horse Daniel. I had taken Daniel on a trail ride from the farm I boarded him at to another farm to take a lesson with my Pony Club group. It was getting dark on my ride home after the lesson, and I was on the trails of the Open Space in Boulder, alone with Daniel and God, the Rocky Mountains silhouetted against the deep darkening blue sky. It was an amazing night, perfect…and I sang that song… “Oh Lord, You’re beautiful…and Your face is all I see… for when Your eyes are on this child….Your grace abounds to me.”
Are your eyes on me now, Lord?! Do you see the mess I’m in? How could you let this happen? I was just trying to do my job, be responsible, and now I’m lying here broken and bleeding on a gravel driveway, trying to drag myself to find help. This is CRAZY! It’s just a broken leg! JUST a broken leg! But I’m stuck…I can’t get up… I’m not making much progress on this road…it’s so long! And I’m bleeding…oh my gosh, I’m really starting to bleed now.
Up until then the blood had been pooling slowly in that canoe shaped opening of my chaps - to the point where I could no longer see my flesh and bones, just blood. And now the blood was spilling out, just a little at a time, but it was no longer contained. I looked back down the road from where I’d come, where I’d first fallen, and I could see a track in the gravel from my leg dragging along. At first the track looked dry and dusty, like how it would look if you dragged a heavy log through dirt. But then I could see, little by little as it got closer to where I now was laying, that there was blood in the track. I was losing more blood than my little God-made leather tourniquet could contain.
I’m going to bleed to death if I don’t get help soon. I’m still so far from the end of the driveway, from the road…
I could hear the cars now faintly, as they drove past. But I couldn’t see them, and they couldn’t see me. The whole driveway was thickly lined with tall beautiful trees. They won’t be able to see me until I’m right up on the road because of all these trees. Oh my gosh…what if a car pulls down the driveway and doesn’t see me?! I could be run over! I could get right up to the edge, right up to being able to flag down a car and they might not see me.
More blood, lots more blood. I looked at my track again and it was becoming more and more covered with a track of blood. I looked down the driveway toward the road. I had more distance left to go than I’d already come. I’m not going to make it to the end of the road. Reality. I’m not going to make it…
This is stupid! It’s a broken leg! Are you kidding me??! I’m going to die from a broken leg!?? This is a stupid way to die!
That’s exactly what I said - out loud, I think.
Keep going….keep going…..
Tears…bloody elbows, but I didn’t notice those. I only noticed that it was hard, and getting harder to pull myself along. I was exhausted, I was past mad and beginning to be sad. This is not what I want. Lord….please….I can’t do it. I’m trying so hard…You know me…I’m sorry…I’m doing the best I can, giving it all I’ve got…I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m so sorry.
If you don’t save me, I’m going to die.
I knew it at that point, I wasn’t going to make it to the end of the road. All my efforts weren’t good enough. I wasn’t strong enough. I had only one hope and that was God.
God, I’m totally in Your hands now. My life, whether I live or die, is completely in Your hands. I’m going to die if You don’t send someone. If You don’t save me, I’m going to die.
I laid my head back down on the gravel drive and took a deep breath. It had been nearly an hour. My throat was sore. My mouth was dry. I was hot, and dirty, and running out of….everything.
Then I heard something.
A faint noise like a rumbling sound? A car?… Not sure…then another noise…a dog barking, yes a dog barking! Where…next door….ok, Lord…big breath, fill my lungs, one more try… “HELP!”
Everything I had left in me, screaming for help…maybe just maybe…and then there they were!
Two people, a man and a women, came running through the trees, jumped over a fence, I think? I don’t know, but there they were. And they were coming toward me! Thank you, Lord! Thank You, Jesus! Yes - I’m found! I’m not alone anymore! They’re here! Thank You, Lord!
The woman ran right to me and sat down by my head, “You’re going to be ok, I’m here.” Her husband ran back through the trees to the house, to get towels, water, I don’t know…but they had a phone! And they called 911.
“Help is on the way,” she said…. “I’m here with you”…and she put my head in her lap. “Do you have anyone I can call for you?”
“Yes - call my husband.” I remembered the phone number. I was calm. I never passed out, never lost consciousness. I remember it all, every part of the road to that point. I relaxed, and my breathing slowed a bit…I felt a little…a little less present. It seemed so fast, the sound of sirens getting closer, the ambulance pulling in. It was so fast!
I had gone from being alone, facing my death and crying for help, to being rescued, safe, saved.
That moment of recognizing and surrendering to the fact that I was going to die - it was that moment that it all changed so fast.
Now there were lots of people, EMTs I guess, people….they were looking at me, touching me, asking me questions, talking to each other. “She needs fluids…I can’t get a vein…she’s about bled out….we need a vein….try her neck…..got it! I got a vein! Awesome…
We need to get these leather pants off of her…get the scissors…we can cut them….”
“NO! Please don’t cut them,” I said, “They’re brand new, custom, I just got them…there’s a zipper! On the side, there’s a zipper! Don’t cut them!”
I laugh now. I was so concerned about my new chaps being completely destroyed! I guess I figured I’d already ruined the right side, why ruin the left side! Don’t ruin my chaps!
“Let’s get her on the stretcher and into the ambulance…got it…hook it under her…ok, good….ready…1, 2….” Wait!
“Don’t drop me!” I was so afraid they would.
Had I never been held? Had I never been carried? No. I had been.
When I was little I would stand at my parents’ feet, stretch my arms up and crane my neck to see them and say, “Uppie!” They would pick me up, balance me on their hip and I would be content. It’s where I wanted to be. And if I started to slide down, I would say, “Hoof-Up!” Which meant I wanted them to bounce me back up to that securely held position.
Securely held…
My parents divorced when I was 4. Had I been securely held since then?
When did I stop saying “Uppie!?” and “Hoof-Up?!” I don’t remember.
But I remember that day being afraid the EMTs would drop me, and pleading with them to be careful with me.
Careful. Full of care…
I definitely need care, in many ways.
I think I had become self-sufficient.
Maybe I had to. I needed care, to be held, to be safe and secure. Just like a horse, like Bayberry, our need to be safe really does outweigh all other needs. So I had learned to take care of myself.
I had done a good job that day! I had come so far! I had gone a great distance!
But in the matter of crossing from death to life, a good job is never enough. A great distance doesn’t get you across the line. I had fallen short.
My self-sufficiency had failed me, had left me broken, bleeding, and dragging myself down a road that ended only in death.
I had exhausted every resource.
I had screamed for help with every ounce of breath and grit I could muster.
I had dragged my body until my elbows were shredded and bloody.
I had gotten angry and thrown rocks at what seemed like a closed door.
I had cried. I had sung. I had prayed. I had bargained with God. I came up with ideas, tried some and ultimately failed at all of them.
Until I came to the end of myself.
And then I turned to God. TRULY turned to Him. Not for Him to help me, but for Him to save me.
I recognized that without His intervention I was as good as dead. I was powerless to save myself. And I said, “God, unless You step in and save me, I’m going to die.”
And I knew it was true.
It wasn’t a bargain or a threat.
It was a simple recognition of the reality of my situation.
The truth is we are all broken, bleeding, and dragging ourselves in our own strength closer and closer to death. We may arrive there. But we won’t cross over from there, from death to life, without the intervention of the One and Only Savior.
I made it about halfway down the road that day.
I made it right up to that line of death.
But salvation was out of my reach. I wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way in my own strength.
I would’ve been a fool that day if when the neighbors showed up I had said, “Oh no. I’m fine. I don’t need help. I’ve got a plan! You see, I’m going to drag myself down this road and then…”
Yeah a fool.
It would have been sheer idiocracy to have declared that I didn’t need to be rescued, that I didn’t need a savior, or to deny the severity of my wounds - wounds that would, untreated, inevitably lead to death.
I needed saving. I needed a Savior.
And I got saved!
The long road from that point on was full of surgeries and more surgeries. Pins and external fixators. Antibiotics and plastic surgeries. Rehab and pain. Struggles and little victories. Setbacks and big miracles.
I have my leg. And I was back on a horse in less than a year. It was a miracle - all of it.
Salvation is a miracle - a gift.
I didn’t earn it.
I couldn’t achieve it.
I wasn’t worthy or unworthy of it.
It was a free gift that I desperately needed and I accepted it, received it, and crossed from death to life. I had moments of near death during my recovery - infections and reactions to medications. But the real saving happened that day halfway down a long gravel road.
Where are you today?
Are you broken and bleeding?
Are you dragging yourself down a road to death? Are you trying to save yourself?
In the Spirit Realm we are all broken, and bleeding, and dragging ourselves down the same road. And we all have the same Savior who is willing, able, ready and waiting to be OUR Savior. He already drug Himself down that long dirt road, bleeding and broken and carrying the weight of the cross - the sin of the whole world.
My sin.
Your sin.
Everyone’s sin.
And He did die for each of us.
Yet He was sufficient, unlike us! He was and is The Lamb of God, slain from the beginning of the world. The Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. And He had the power, being the only begotten Son of God - God Himself in the form of a man - to cross from death to life by His own shed blood. Physically He died, was buried and on the 3rd day rose again. He did it for us so we don’t have to.
Because we can’t.
It’s not just the easier way, it’s the only way!
We can lie to ourselves and keep dragging ourselves down the road.
But we aren’t going to make it.
We need a Savior.
I needed a Savior.
We all need a Savior.
If you’re reading this today and you feel like I did on that road, then stop dragging yourself toward death. Recognize your need right now for Your Savior. Call out to Him. He is ready and willing to save YOU! Right now!
Believe in your heart that He loves you and is able to rescue you.
Confess with your mouth that He IS the Lord, the risen Savior!
And you WILL be saved!
Welcome to the Kingdom, my friend!
We have a glorious journey ahead of us, together!
I’m excited to walk this new road with you and to help each other along The Way.
Grace and Peace to you - Shalom!
<3 Stacey
Connect with me:
SuperNatural Horsemanship Youtube Channel
www.onpurposeinternational.org
