My horse wasn’t really old at all when he quit working. He was more interested in enjoying the lazy luxuries of grandpa Paul’s farm than allowing Jessie to ride him, outside his pasture, to explore the woods. He had been outside when she led him to the pond where he pawed the surface of the water and lowered his muzzle into it, blowing bubbles. He had visited the neighbor’s farm but willingly followed the bucket of grain back to the barn and his pasture. Zack was intent on getting more grain any way he could.

I say he quit working because he unseated any rider who was on his back, or just refused to walk if the rider somehow convinced him that he wouldn’t be unseated. The retired old man Zack had taking care of him hadn’t failed him yet. He fed him grain every day. He even bribed him with grain to be able to remove the burdock burrs from his main and tail, but he never left the grain box open.

There is lots of evidence of Zack’s repeated efforts to help himself. The far edge of the cover on the grain box had been chewed back to where it was even with the edge of the box from all his attempts to lift the lid with his teeth.

Once, Zack did succeed in pulling a nearly full bag of grain out of the box. I can only speculate how it was done. A corner of the bag was caught under the lid and he reached over the box, clamped his teeth on the corner, and pulled up. The lid opened away from him as the full bag was lifted into the air, out of the box, but not over the raised lid. The corner tore off the bag which fell outward on the far side of the box so it remained beyond his reach. He didn’t eat that bag of grain, so he didn’t kill himself nor demonstrate any discomfort later.

My still young horse, had chosen to retire from work and just watch everything that we did. He kept Ellen company when she worked in the garden. He came to beg for sweet corn when I was picking it for her to cut off the cob to freeze. I always gave him some of the corn stalks, but never the bucket full of corn cobs after Ellen had cut off all the corn. When we picked wild apples and ground them up to make cider, in the press Ellen’s dad had built, Zack wanted to eat all the apple pulp. I only gave it to him a little at a time. He had no control of his appetite, and had no idea that he could kill himself with an overdose of rich food. Zack liked to eat and laze around, but he sure was beautiful when he chose to run!

When I started the old Hay Swather to come mow down the weeds in his pasture his response was beautiful to see. He was created to run and the harmony of his movement, accentuated by the flowing of his long main and tail, made me marvel that he didn’t do it more often, just to praise his Creator. I never trimmed his mane and tail and made a special effort to eliminate the burdock in his pasture. It was getting to be a daily task to remove the burrs he collected in his luxury dust baths so he would still be attractive. He ran less often now and seemed to tire more easily, breathing heavily when he entered the barn to look for more grain.

Now he had decided to quit. Is there such a thing as early retirement for horses? There were so many activities on the farm, with all the family members that were here, that Zack wasn’t missed very much. He did have a retirement plan offered by the lady who had sold him to me but it hadn’t yet been activated. I would have to pay her fifty dollars every month for her to care for him in his retirement, if I couldn’t find a suitable home that would take him.

Maybe I could give him to my neighbor who had six other horses on her small place near the stream. The pasture she used had been part of my land and I had charged her nothing for its use. Her son wanted to ride Zack, after all he was beautiful and very fast, but he only tried him a couple times and gave up. Zack wasn’t into obedience or pleasure riding. The days were full that summer and only Zack knew that he had quit work.

My elder sister, Leilani, was one of the many family members who had gathered to witness and share the joy of Jeff and Lindsay’s wedding. Leilani, two years older than I was retired, and in a long e-mail wrote of her visit to Grandpa Paul’s Farm. Keep in mind that she was a lonely story teller from drought ridden Texas, visiting New York in the summer. She clearly idealized life at the farm and even left some of her clothes in the Purple Room closet to have here, she said, if she ever returned to retire.

She has since passed away but we found this copy of her e-mail written at that time. Here is what she wrote:

“I’m home from my wonderful trip to Central New York to celebrate Jeff Brown and Lindsay Buel’s Wedding, Saturday August 15. I then transitioned by bus back to my real world of 102 degrees’ heat, constant sun, and continued drought.

In Central New York, near Cooperstown, it rains. There are lakes and beaver ponds and little springs. There are muskrats and foxes and flowers and trees and all kinds of birds and butterflies. There were summer apples on old trees standing out in fields, and cows and a lovely dappled grey horse.”

(She was talking about Zack who is nearly pure white)

“There were roosters and hens, both in the fields and in the hen-house. There was a goat family–a huge big ram and a dainty little nanny who was pregnant, and a couple of kittens (half-grown) named by the grandchildren, Tigger (the aggressive bouncy one) and Shyster (who was always hiding).”

(Actually the names would be hard to verify since there were five or six kittens in the hay loft that the girls could tell apart only by which paw had red fingernail polish painted on which claws. I know one was called ‘Her-highness’, another was ‘Shyness’, and a darker kitten with tiger markings was first called ‘Chocolate’, later shortened to ‘Choco’. We still have ‘Shyness’ and ‘Choco’.)

“And there were twelve wonderful grandchildren, mostly under the age of 12, four for each of the three the families who were there. One family from Hollywood, California; one family from British Columbia (the area where they had the terrible Forest Fires) and one from North Carolina. Paul Henry’s four grandchildren in North Africa stayed there with their father there, who is the on-site coordinator for EXPERIENCE IT TOURS, while Paul Henry and Ellen tend to bookings and organizing on this end. (Look it up on the Internet!)

Paul Henry and Ellen have the most amazing grandchildren–they are all tow-headed and bright eyed and full of energy from sun-up until bed-time. They eat what is served with thanksgiving, and look out for each other peaceably so that grown-ups can talk and visit without interruptions from kids. I heard no whining, no complaining, no tattling, and no unkind words, at any time, from anyone! No threats, no spankings-it was amazing, with SO MANY LITTLE PEOPLE all in one house for a week.

I guess this is what it is going to be like in Heaven! A little crowded but a LOT OF HAPPY!”

(I’m sure she was dreaming! Now she knows so much more!)

“The old turn-of the-century farm house on Weeks Road has four bedrooms upstairs, and one down-stairs (originally the parlor); however, there was only one and a-half bathrooms! There were two tents in the yard (Grampa Paul Henry and his wife Ellen slept out in the tent because they said it was so quiet and peaceful in the yard!) There was also one pop-up camper trailer. Ellen shopped and planned for 30 people, and we ate sumptuously three times a day, country fare like ham and biscuits and blueberry pies, and exotic dishes, too, like fried plantain, chicken and lemon with nam (flat bread from the Middle East) and an African dish with all kinds of vegetables and ground meat in a sauce that was a little spicy and hot. Ellen bought 300 paper-plates, and instead of having to wash lots and lots of dishes, we just tossed them in the burn-barrel after each meal, and gave the food scraps to the kittens, the goats or the chickens.”

“The garden was a dream! The tomatoes had got the “blight” (probably from too much rain), but the cucumbers and squash were enormous. The green beans had to be picked daily, and the corn was sweet. There was leaf lettuce and all kinds of onions, red, white and yellow. There were beets and carrots. Children, with nothing to do, could always be sent out to pull the weeds and bring in some thing for the table.

“The kitchen was a very busy place, with bread, pies and cookies being baked often, everything made from scratch, even the angel-food birthday cake! And the clean-up happened so fast, with everyone doing his part. Being dishwasher was an honor it seemed.”

“Children rarely had nothing to do. Mothers and Dads planned a trip to a lake and to falls to swim, a blue-berry farm for picking, Cooperstown, for the Baseball Hall of Fame. There was a hay-loft in which to build ‘forts’, trees to climb, and all sorts of swings to swing on. Of course, there were all the farm animals to feed and to chase and to pet. The Billy-goat would chase anyone who got too close to the nanny. The horse had to be caught before he could be ridden. The chickens and the kittens loved to play hide and seek. And eggs could be found in surprising places!”

“There was a parrot who whistled along with Paul Henry, and chatted happily to himself when the house was quiet; an African Grey, Paul Henry has had for almost twenty years and a bright bird from the Caribbean that squawked loudly from time to time, if you paid attention to the grey one.”

“I mainly watched all the happy interaction, and told stories, and had stories told to me, and drew pictures and painted with watercolors.”

“It’s been in a wonderful world for a week, but now I’m safely home, refreshed in body, mind and spirit.”

There was more to her e-mail which I must say is rather idealistic, especially when describing my grandchildren who ‘did no wrong and received no spankings’.

I know that they did receive spankings from their parents, who loved them so much that they disciplined them and taught them to love God and obey Him. Obeying God meant that the children should honor their parents and that the husband should love his wife and give himself for her and she should submit to her husband and obey him.

I know their parents received spankings when they were growing up and we have no greater joy than to know that our children are walking in the truth. Our youngest, married during the time Leilani was visiting, now has his own wife and three children to care for, and I can easily understand Leilani’s idealistic view as she watched life from the sunny landing at the top of our stairs. We love to see Jeff’s little ones growing up to know the Lord.

I started this parable, talking of my horse and his decision to quit working, his expectation that he could do whatever he pleased, eat all he wanted, depend totally on the old farmer to care for him and just live his lazy life indefinitely in my pasture, not even providing rides to my grandchildren. He just quit, nowhere near old enough to retire.

However, the farmer and his equipment was getting old. The fifty-year-old Farmall 706 tractor’s replacement engine quit working, so I bought a forty-year-old Ford 4000 tractor. All the haymaking equipment was badly worn, but since we rather enjoyed making hay with our John Deere 24T baler we didn’t quit. After all Zack, our Arabian horse, still ate a lot of hay.

It seems Zack had no idea he was retired. He simply lived with no work and no responsibilities. He expected someone else, namely the old man, to care for him.

We were watching the forecast to try to find at least a three-day window in May, where sunny weather was expected. If I could cut the hay late in the day after the afternoon shower, it would begin to wilt overnight and only get dew on the surface of the downed hay just before dawn. I would then use the old tedder to shake off the droplets as I scattered the hay to begin drying in the sunshine. The hay would have a couple days to dry before raking and baling, the third day, to get it into the barn. We hadn’t yet given up on caring for Zack.

It is fulfilling to live our lives using what God had given us to glorify Him in all we do, even making hay for our retired horse.