Free Hope Rising by Kim Meeder

saw me.
    I felt like a statue, welded into this somber place. My hands were buried deep in my pockets. My frozen breath rose silently around me. Time seemed to freeze as well. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. Sarah held my gaze across the distance between us. I struggled to make out the features of her face. A crisp breeze swirled downtoward me as if carrying from heaven my answer within its wings. Then Sarah raised her arms high into the frosty air and threw her head back in a victorious gesture, like an Olympian who had just won gold. My heart leaped! I wanted to scream for joy; I wanted to fall to my knees; I wanted to cry. But most of all, I wanted to thank the Lord for answering the simple prayer of a little girl.
    We ran to each other, meeting in an embrace so warm that it dashed the wintry grip of the morning. Our hearts rose high with the sun, matching the first golden lasers of light illuminating the blanket of mist. We sprinted back to camp, which was by now abuzz with excitement, and the morning whirled past with final race preparations. It hardly seemed more then a few moments before our team was saddled, mounted, and warmed up.
    The horses’ jubilant strides mirrored the hearts of their riders. They couldn’t wait to begin, respectfully letting us know that they were nearly bursting to gallop, to fill their nostrils with wind, to stretch their God-given wings and fly through the forested mountains.
    The countdown began—three, two, one, GO!
    Without hesitation, our well warmed horses leaped into a powerful gallop. Incredible strength rose beneath us, gaining speed and power with each lengthened stride until gravity itself strained to hold us earthbound.
    Pure horsepower in its most extreme sense expanded and contracted beneath us. With wind-whipped tears streaming back through my hair, I felt my mare’s power thunder with such remarkable force that in those moments, she felt more like an iron locomotive than a beast of flesh and blood. Gravity snapped, and we soared free of earthly bonds. Racing on the wings of thewind … we flew!
    The once placid trees blurred past us into a fluid emerald forest. The strong headwind created by our resounding flight spirited away our laughing voices into the recesses of the wilderness. Joy shimmered throughout the air, cascading like droplets onto the forest floor behind us. The trees bent and waved back in the midst of our draft, cheering us on with waving boughs. In our wake, I imagined our laughter turning the silver blanket of frost into pure gold.
    Miles ticked by like minutes. Gradually we reined in our horses until they settled into a big, fluid trot that powered us up one mountainous ridge after another. Each seemed to rise forever toward the deepening blue sky, only to crest and roll back down in majestic, shady folds of deep green. Above the muffled cadence of our horses’ hooves over the humus floor, the whispering voice of the forest could be heard. Breezes hushed in the tops of the trees seemed to call us by name. The forest opened its enfolded arms and welcomed us into its timeless evergreen embrace.
    Eventually the land sloped down and away, bending toward a creek. The midrace vet check was less than half a mile down the trail. We dismounted and led the horses the remaining distance. When we walked into the vet check area, Sarah’s expression changed from deep, quiet joy into something more somber. We both understood that whatever had affected Mojave before could return after his exertion.
    To begin the vet checking procedure, the horse’s heart rate must first return to a resting rate of sixty beats per minute. Mojave’s pulse, when it was checked at the watertrough, was already there. I watched over my mare’s back as step by step the attending vet began to check off his list of crucial elements. The young gelding passed each one with high scores.
    It was time for the trot out.
    Would Mojave pass? If he was declared sound and released, Sarah