An­swered Prayers

A girl turns to a power higher than her par­ents when ask­ing for a horse.

Farm & Ranch Living - - LOVIN’ THE LIFE - BY AN­GELA MAGALSKY, AGE 20

ver since I was lit­tle, I wanted a horse—what child hasn’t? But between the ages of 3 and 9, my fam­ily vol­un­teered at Glean­ings for the Hun­gry, a Youth With A Mis­sion (YWAM) base in cen­tral Cal­i­for­nia. We lived there from Oc­to­ber to April, go­ing home to Mon­tana for the rest of the year, so it was im­pos­si­ble to have a horse. Still, I rode.

When we moved back to Mon­tana to stay, I had hopes of fi­nally get­ting a horse. My folks en­cour­aged me to pray, so I did. To­ward the end of June, a friend’s mom called to see if I wanted to babysit her pony, Hal­ter, as he wasn’t be­ing ridden much. I leapt at the of­fer.

I had Hal­ter for three bliss­ful weeks. If I had to go across the yard, I’d get Hal­ter, put the bri­dle on and ride him bare­back to get there. He was such a good pony for me, just stub­born enough to keep me busy but gen­tle enough for a green­horn.

Since I rode Hal­ter bare­back a lot, I learned to get on him without a step up. I’d park him and he’d stand still, munch­ing away on grass. Then I’d take a few steps back, get a run­ning start and fling my­self at his back. I’d do this un­til I got on him, and he’d just stand there.

But too soon, it was time for Hal­ter to go home. I was pretty blue the day he left. I called my cow­boy brother,

EDaniel, and talked about the costs of own­ing a horse: the pur­chase price, tack, vac­ci­na­tions, far­rier fees and hay. I did not like the sum of the num­bers. But my folks still en­cour­aged me to pray. A few weeks later, a friend asked me to go rid­ing. A nearby farm kept a gen­tle Ara­bian-Paint cross, Fire, that the owner let kids ride. We asked per­mis­sion, then went to the horse owner’s arena and be­gan an af­ter­noon of rid­ing. Af­ter a while, Fire’s owner came out to see us and asked if I wanted to talk with my folks about tak­ing Fire home. I jumped at the op­por­tu­nity. A few days later, Fire was home with me.

My fam­ily had hay­fields of al­falfa and grass that we sold to neigh­bors at the time, since we didn’t have any live­stock. So we kept some bales, and that’s how God pro­vided fuel for my dream.

That horse and I had some great times. As I got older, though, I found less time to ride and got the go-ahead from Fire’s owner to pass him along to my brother for his kids. His wife, Jen, used Fire for equine-as­sisted learn­ing classes un­til the horse passed away last fall.

I’m now 20, but I still get a catch in my throat when I think of Fire. I thank God for the time we had and for be­ing able to live my child­hood dreams.

Noth­ing matched the bond An­gela Magalsky had with Fire.

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