"Paint"

He’d back up straight and side pass,

He was easy in a lope,

And he’d sure watch the cattle,

Which gave to me the hope,

That this young painted gelding,

Would show the ones who said,

The only real good paint horse,

Is the one that winds up dead.

So I ignored their laughter,

And took him home, you see,

He wasn’t yet through growin’,

And had more bone to be.

I once had owned his mother,

A palomino mare,

And she was quite a good one,

And that with you I’ll share.

I heard my pony’s daddy,

Was a well-known stud horse paint,

They said a black and white one,

And worked from can till can’t.

So me and Scout we bonded,

I roped some calves and dragged,

He did just like I asked him,

And never, ever lagged.

He sorted the ranch rodeo,

Rode him in a big parade,

And I am mighty proud of,

The kind of horse he made.

But he is in my pocket,

He’ll bring to me a stick,

And drop it like a playful dog,

And then my hat he’ll lick.

Once I opened the horse trailer,

To take another horse to town,

Scout ran and loaded up himself,

Without a single sound.

And all sorts of other things,

This painted horse has done,

He’d come indoors right with us,

No doubt thinks would be fun.

He’s crazy ‘bout my Stacey,

I need to ride him more,

And as for those old spots of his,

I’ll tell you what’s the score.

A man can’t ride the color,

Nor papers, don’t you see,

It’s how a horse responds to you,

And that’s what counts to me.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” (James 1:17, NIV)

I’ve had several horses that looked good but didn’t turn out to be what I needed. For example, I bought a really nice-looking red roan that the man said was dead broke and they had used to work cattle. He appeared to be gentle, but bucked me off the day I got him home. I worked with him several weeks, and no doubt he was not dead broke. I hired a young guy to come and ride him for me, and then I spent quite a bit of time on him. But he was the kind of horse that required a lot of riding, else he’d lapse into his broncy ways. i finally traded him for something more gentle. My paint horse has his quirks, but I consider him to be a real gift. I’m sure you can relate, whether it’s horses or anything else. Everything that glitters is not gold, but when it comes from the Lord it’s really a treasure.

Lord, help us to be thankful for Your good and perfect gifts, in Jesus’ name.

Personal photo.