Healing Sometimes Looks Like Something That Stays

I always love Kentucky Derby weekend. Always so many great stories. I was struck by one this weekend that hit me in a way a Derby weekend story hasn't hit me in a long time.

The name of the horse was Bless the Broken. She ran in the Kentucky Oaks the day before the Kentucky Derby. The trainer of the horse is Will Walden.

Will started abusing drugs and alcohol in college. He came close to death at times. So close, a defibrillator had to be used on him more than once. He went in and out of rehab centers. At 30 years old, he knew something had to change.

He said he felt as alone as one could feel in life.

Will graduated from the Stable Recovery program in Lexington. It offers drug and alcohol treatment combined with horse therapy and training in the industry. This led to Will getting the job as trainer of Bless the Broken.

My friend Brenda, who brings healing to herself and others through horses, once told me that horses talk to us if we're willing to listen. That if we’re honest about our energy - our fear, our grief, our tenderness - they’ll meet us there. Not with judgment, not with a plan, but with presence.

And maybe that’s the kind of connection we need most when we’re falling apart. Not advice. Just presence.

I’ve spent much of my life trying to be healed by other people. Trying to fix relationships, prove my worth, undo old wounds through new connections. But I’m learning - sometimes slowly, sometimes stubbornly - that healing doesn’t always come in the form of another human being.

Sometimes it comes in the form of something that simply stays. That senses your pain without needing to dissect it. That accepts you exactly as you are, without needing a single word.

Maybe weathering together doesn’t always look like two people holding hands in a storm. Maybe sometimes it’s just you and a horse. Or a trail. Or a dog.

Or the sound of God whispering through creation: you are not alone.

In a world that’s loud with opinions and arguments, maybe the best therapy comes from what doesn’t speak, but still understands.

I don’t train horses. I don’t own a farm. But I know this: we were never meant to weather life alone. And sometimes, the ones who help us find our way back…don’t look like us, talk like us, or even know our names.

But they know our hearts.

And sometimes, that’s enough to keep us alive.

Bless the Broken finished third in the Kentucky Oaks race. She and Will didn't come away victorious. But I've come to understand this about life - the finish line is rarely the finish - it is rarely the end of the story.

Quite often the finish line is the once upon a time.

Bless the Broken's official name is Bless the Broken Road based on the song by Rascal Flatts. Something tells me the road ahead for this horse and this man will indeed be blessed.

I know it's already blessed me.