Hope Rising Read Online Free PDF Page A

mother, somberly nodded yes. But she dared not raise her eyes to look at me.
    I asked gently, “You have ridden before?”
    Diane turned quickly to look at Heather. In a slightly embarrassed voice she said, “Honey, please tell the truth. You’ve never ridden a horse in your life.”
    Finally, after a slight nudging from her mother’s elbow, Heather lifted her head and met my eyes. With a great summoning of courage she softly said, “I ride horses every night—” her eyes quickly dropped to the ground again before she finished—“in my dreams.”
    Precious lamb
, I thought. My eyes began to fill with tears. “Heather, did you know that sometimes dreams come true?” I said in a soft voice. “I have many horses that would love the chance to grant you your dream. Come on, let’s go and meet them,” I said, extending my hand toward hers. As if visually asking permission, she looked up at her mother and then back at me. Slowly, her gaze fell again tomy outstretched hand. She studied it for a long moment, and then with slow deliberation, she silently put her hand in mine.
    After riding two of our most gentle horses, a flicker, a glimmer, a tiny glow of hope began to emerge. And with hope, a new freedom—to play and to laugh like ordinary kids. We started out giving baths to the horses, but then, an honest “Oops, I didn’t mean to squirt you” quickly erupted into a full-blown water fight with all of us tumbling around on the grass, squealing and splashing in the spray.
    The rest of the day flowed by like a river of dreams, rich and lazy under a golden August sky. Past each turn and bend the girls’ impish grins grew wider, melting into self-conscious giggles. Fear, which had shadowed their entire lives like a stealthy predator, could not rule them in this place. That ruthless fear was given a sound spanking and sent limping away.
    Much too soon, it seemed, Diane said it was time for them to go. But first I steered them with feigned curiosity toward a white bundle I had earlier placed on one of our picnic tables. The girls undid the twisted tablecloth wrapping, and then stood back in shy surprise. Inside were all the necessary symbols of this special day—a birthday cake, cups, plates, forks … and a huge bag of carrots!
    After the cake had been shared and devoured, Breanna set out at a skip with the carrots to celebrate the day of her birth with all her newfound four-legged friends. The shadows grew longer in the warm early evening, and at last it really was time for the little family to say good-bye.
    I wondered if it had been enough. Had I really done my best for a family that needed so much? They had coweredfor so many years under a reign of terror—could one single day really make a difference? Lost in thought, I followed their car with my eyes as it started back down the drive and through the ranch gate.
    With the innocent simplicity of any eight-year-old, our birthday girl twisted in her seat to look back at me. To my great joy I saw her tiny fingers raised high, waving back at me through the car window. Caught off guard, I waved lightly in return and smiled.
Thank You, Lord. It was a good start
.
    The Wishing Tree is gone—destroyed in the fire. But the hope it nurtured within its protective walls remains and continues to grow. Hope cannot be destroyed. It calls us to rise up; it whispers our name. It draws us to believe that, sometimes, wishes
do
come true.
    Diane told me later that our first day together was a turning point in their lives. It was a day when hope took root and began to grow—when the fear that had held them in bondage for so long received a mortal blow. Since then, their friendship has grown deep roots in my heart. I love the sparkling silliness of the two girls whom I have come to adore as my own. They are like bricks set in the foundation of what Crystal Peaks is becoming.
    I thought that first day in August was my gift to them. But in reality, by the grace of God, they have