Many of you already know Ginger's story
- the story of an old mare who ran away from "home", not once but
twice. (Her original story can be found HERE). In 2001, Ginger
found her forever home here at PENZANCE in Douglas, MA. It was here
that she found her calling of healing and discovered that humans really
can be loving and respectful. It had been many years since she had been
cared for in the dignity and respect of which she was deserving. Her
broken knees couldn't hide the truths of human cruelty and
selfishness. The way she would turn her head and eyes away from humans
told of a feeling of misconceived shame and unworthiness. She would do
what she was asked of her but one could tell her heart was heavy and
what she did was out of obedience and not with a willing heart. Her
mane and tail took time to grow back from the matted filthy tangled
mess that she had when she walked onto our farm. Her old body was bony
and sharp with a dull, manure matted coat. Her eyes were wary and dull.
But, it wasn't long, however, before her ribcage disappeared in the
black, sleek shininess of a midnite coat that grew in with a rebounding
vigor. Her knees began to lose some of the swellings with proper
nutrition and care for her foundered hooves. Her eyes began to, once
again, shine with compassion and hope. I knew she was well on the road
to recovery of her inner pain the day I called to her and she looked at
me with both eyes then allowed me to hug her head and stroke her ears,
burying my own nose in the sweet scent of her soft nostrils. We
both knew she was "home". We both knew, too, that she still had "work"
to do even at the age of 36.
The autumn and winter following her arrival here at Penzance, Ginger became a favorite horse for a few women who attended our Progressive Equine Partnership Training course here. It was this group who dubbed her, "The Horse that Makes People Cry". It all started on the first day of class when one woman picked Ginger to be the horse she wanted to work with for her exercises that day. She went up, wrapped her arms around Ginger's neck and the next thing we all knew was this woman was sobbing as hard as anyone had ever seen. You see, this woman was feeling rejected, ugly and unloved and so lonely at that time just like Ginger was feeling when she walked onto our farm. Ginger was the catalyst, somehow, of opening the doors to this woman's heart so she could begin her journey of healing. Today, 4 years later that same woman is whole and rebuilding her life with her young son. It all started that 1st day of class with a simple hug from a horse. The next week during class sharing time we all learned that two other women had gone home, thought about Ginger and spent the weekend crying. Through that opening of hearts, they, too, were able to heal old wounds that held scars of years before them. All Ginger needed to do was allow herself to be loved and through that she gave hope to so many others.
In 2003, early spring, I was riding Ginger for the first time that season. She was then 38 and still able to stride out with magnificent strides and proud gaits in spite of her grapefruit sized knees. After a short time I asked her, one more time, for one more good trot around the ring. We got half-way around and Ginger's hoof hit a rock. She tripped and was unable to regain her balance in spite of her determination to not go down. She fell, hard, trapping my ankle between the rock and her hip. As impact took place I remember feeling a sharp snap, knowing my ankle had been shattered and broken. As Ginger's large body rocked one way, I rolled out from under her and rolled away. She rolled in the opposite direction that I did and we ended up about 50 feet apart from one another and a good 100 feet away from the entrance to the riding area. Unable to get off the ground, I called to Ginger after she was standing and had shaken herself off. I prayed that she was not hurt. Thank God she was not. She turned and came over to me, lowered her head and nudged me in the back. I reached up, pulled myself up her front leg then held onto her mane. Ginger took one step, I hopped one hop. Ginger waited then took one more step. I hopped a hop again. This kind, sweet mare kept on taking one step at a time each time waiting for me to hop with her, before taking another step. We made our way out of the riding area like this and I was able to sit down on a stump. She stood quietly while I losened her girth and slid her saddle and pad off her back. She then dropped her head in my lap and stayed with me like this for another 45 minutes until my husband arrived home from work and helped us both back to the barn. My heart overflowed with gratitude and love for this old mare who helped me when *I* was broken and stayed with me until she knew I was safe. My ankle surely was shattered and broken along with my leg and torn muscles, ligaments and tendons. Three weeks later, with a full cast, I was able to make my way out to the side yard to see Ginger and give her a hug. Not only could I hug her, but I sat on a chair while she "danced" around me on the end of my 30 ft. line. We played for awhile that day, me sitting in my chair, healing hearts and bones in a way that only horses and humans can play. My insight into the equine soul and heart was growing stronger. As much as I was teaching about human and equine partnership to my class, Ginger was teaching me even more.
I understand that Ginger once taught a young girl how to canter bareback, caring for her young charge as a mother cares for her own child. I also learned that Ginger once proudly walked in parades and won many children and adults, alike, proud blue ribbons over her years. She must have been a beauty in her younger years with her thick, wavy, black mane and tail glistening in the summer's sun. In her golden years, though, she was so much more than just a big, beautiful black mare with a white star on her forehead and white socks on her legs. She tried to hide her broken heart when she first arrived but then it grew and then she began to give it away - to the very species who had so rejected and so hurt her in the past. In the hope restored and the healing for humans Ginger became even more beautiful in body and spirit than in the younger days of her life. She showed us that there is beauty and love even in the deepest, darkest of our wounded souls and most of all ... there is Hope. We find that hope by taking steps ... sometimes one at a time on broken knees, shattered ankles and hidden heart pain. But there's always Love and there's always Hope.
My prayer is that through this and through Ginger's Story that you may find hope and love for the hurts that fill your heart today. My prayer for you is that someday you, too, will find a horse whose heart is bigger than the sun and shines just as brightly. My prayer for you is that Ginger will still touch your heart today as it has done for so many over so many years. My prayer is that Ginger is now able to run free of pain and hurt and disappointment and that now she can look down upon us all and share her Hope of Heaven ... Heaven here on earth for you, and me.
Ginger by Grace, 1965 - 2005, Penzance, Douglas, Massachusetts. May you rest in peace Beautiful Girl ...
God Bless.
-- Gwenyth Browning Jones Santagate
October 16, 2005.
The autumn and winter following her arrival here at Penzance, Ginger became a favorite horse for a few women who attended our Progressive Equine Partnership Training course here. It was this group who dubbed her, "The Horse that Makes People Cry". It all started on the first day of class when one woman picked Ginger to be the horse she wanted to work with for her exercises that day. She went up, wrapped her arms around Ginger's neck and the next thing we all knew was this woman was sobbing as hard as anyone had ever seen. You see, this woman was feeling rejected, ugly and unloved and so lonely at that time just like Ginger was feeling when she walked onto our farm. Ginger was the catalyst, somehow, of opening the doors to this woman's heart so she could begin her journey of healing. Today, 4 years later that same woman is whole and rebuilding her life with her young son. It all started that 1st day of class with a simple hug from a horse. The next week during class sharing time we all learned that two other women had gone home, thought about Ginger and spent the weekend crying. Through that opening of hearts, they, too, were able to heal old wounds that held scars of years before them. All Ginger needed to do was allow herself to be loved and through that she gave hope to so many others.
In 2003, early spring, I was riding Ginger for the first time that season. She was then 38 and still able to stride out with magnificent strides and proud gaits in spite of her grapefruit sized knees. After a short time I asked her, one more time, for one more good trot around the ring. We got half-way around and Ginger's hoof hit a rock. She tripped and was unable to regain her balance in spite of her determination to not go down. She fell, hard, trapping my ankle between the rock and her hip. As impact took place I remember feeling a sharp snap, knowing my ankle had been shattered and broken. As Ginger's large body rocked one way, I rolled out from under her and rolled away. She rolled in the opposite direction that I did and we ended up about 50 feet apart from one another and a good 100 feet away from the entrance to the riding area. Unable to get off the ground, I called to Ginger after she was standing and had shaken herself off. I prayed that she was not hurt. Thank God she was not. She turned and came over to me, lowered her head and nudged me in the back. I reached up, pulled myself up her front leg then held onto her mane. Ginger took one step, I hopped one hop. Ginger waited then took one more step. I hopped a hop again. This kind, sweet mare kept on taking one step at a time each time waiting for me to hop with her, before taking another step. We made our way out of the riding area like this and I was able to sit down on a stump. She stood quietly while I losened her girth and slid her saddle and pad off her back. She then dropped her head in my lap and stayed with me like this for another 45 minutes until my husband arrived home from work and helped us both back to the barn. My heart overflowed with gratitude and love for this old mare who helped me when *I* was broken and stayed with me until she knew I was safe. My ankle surely was shattered and broken along with my leg and torn muscles, ligaments and tendons. Three weeks later, with a full cast, I was able to make my way out to the side yard to see Ginger and give her a hug. Not only could I hug her, but I sat on a chair while she "danced" around me on the end of my 30 ft. line. We played for awhile that day, me sitting in my chair, healing hearts and bones in a way that only horses and humans can play. My insight into the equine soul and heart was growing stronger. As much as I was teaching about human and equine partnership to my class, Ginger was teaching me even more.
I understand that Ginger once taught a young girl how to canter bareback, caring for her young charge as a mother cares for her own child. I also learned that Ginger once proudly walked in parades and won many children and adults, alike, proud blue ribbons over her years. She must have been a beauty in her younger years with her thick, wavy, black mane and tail glistening in the summer's sun. In her golden years, though, she was so much more than just a big, beautiful black mare with a white star on her forehead and white socks on her legs. She tried to hide her broken heart when she first arrived but then it grew and then she began to give it away - to the very species who had so rejected and so hurt her in the past. In the hope restored and the healing for humans Ginger became even more beautiful in body and spirit than in the younger days of her life. She showed us that there is beauty and love even in the deepest, darkest of our wounded souls and most of all ... there is Hope. We find that hope by taking steps ... sometimes one at a time on broken knees, shattered ankles and hidden heart pain. But there's always Love and there's always Hope.
My prayer is that through this and through Ginger's Story that you may find hope and love for the hurts that fill your heart today. My prayer for you is that someday you, too, will find a horse whose heart is bigger than the sun and shines just as brightly. My prayer for you is that Ginger will still touch your heart today as it has done for so many over so many years. My prayer is that Ginger is now able to run free of pain and hurt and disappointment and that now she can look down upon us all and share her Hope of Heaven ... Heaven here on earth for you, and me.
Ginger by Grace, 1965 - 2005, Penzance, Douglas, Massachusetts. May you rest in peace Beautiful Girl ...
God Bless.
-- Gwenyth Browning Jones Santagate
October 16, 2005.